Beep. Beep.
“Sending…Text to Marley:Sorry, I’m writhing, talking into phone, it’s being a witch, but keep talking, I’m here. Let it fall out.”
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. At least that one was almost right.
Text from Marley:This is kind of fun trying to decipher these texts. It’s making me smile, unlike Derek… he’s being passive-aggressive about everything. Asked me to redo an entire campaign because my creative vision doesn’t align with the company’s standards. It’s the same campaign he approved last week. Fucking dick!”
Curling my lip, I pull up at a stoplight, wishing I could go and give this asshole a piece of my mind.
“Hey, Siri…
Text to Marley:Want me to come beat his ass?
… Send.”
Beep. Beep.
“Sending…Want me to come beat his ass?”
I let out a laugh. “Oh, that one you understand! Violence is your kink, hey, Siri?”
Beep. Beep.
“I do not understand this request.”
Shaking my head, I take off as the light turns green. “Of course you don’t, you asshole.”
Text from Marley:Tempting, but I need this job. At least until I find something else.”
“Hey, Siri…
Text to Marley:Never apologize for talking to me, Small Town. I’m here whenever you need me.
… Send.”
Beep. Beep.
“Sending… Never apologize for stalking me, Small Clown. I’m here whenever you need meat.”
“What?Do not send that!”I yell at my cell.
Beep. Beep.
“Message sent.”
I groan frustratingly into my steering wheel. “Fucking alien robot bastard!”
I reach for my fucking cell, yank it from the dashboard holder, and start typing out a message myself.
Me:Sorry, my phone is a fucking cunt. I’m gonna drop by the apartment, come cheer you up.
Her reply text comes quickly.
Marley:Damn, I liked your crazy cryptic texts, they were making me laugh… guess I will have to settle for your lame Dad jokes when you get here in person then… see you soon City Boy. xo
I hurl my cell onto the passenger seat, wanting to keep the piece of shit out of my sight for now, and I turn the cornerheading for the apartment. By the time I finish driving, I’ve made a decision.
I head up the elevator to apartment twenty-seventeen and open the door to find Marley on a ladder, paintbrush in hand, adding stenciled designs to the kitchen wall. She’s wearing old jeans and one of my T-shirts, and there is paint smudged on her cheek.
