I gave Shelby’s comment more thought than it deserved before saying, “Are youdonenow?”
“Am I done? Not really, Indy. I know her type. Hell, Iamher type. I mean, who do you know who’s more qualified to call out a skankthanme?”
She had a point. Shelby really was their beloved leader. This was the woman who’d appeared not once but twice on the “Who’s My Baby Daddy?” segment of theMaury Povich Showand still couldn’t figure out who the hell mydaddywas.
“I’m not trying to shit on you. All I’m saying is, she made your life a living hell, and you don’t need her whoring kind in your life. You’re lucky to be ridofher.”
She didn’t have to tell me that; I already knew. When it came right down to it, Alexis was just a glorified, and better-looking, version of Shelby. She’d taken over my entire life, systematically alienating me from all my friends and dangling lies over my head to keep me in my place. I’d wasted so much time on her and came out of it withnothing.
“Indy?Youokay?”
Snapping out of my medicated daydream, I changed the subject to something I knew would be more agreeable to Shelby. “Okay, I’ll come by Friday morning, but I expect you to drop my car off here Sundayafternoon.Deal?”
“You’re the best, Indy. I don’t know what I’d dowithoutyou.”
Neither did I, because, no joke, she asked for a hell of a lot more than she ever gave. “Stop callingmeIndy.”
“Why not? I love yourname.Ind…”
“NO! If you’re going to start up with that shit, then I’m callingyouMom.”
“Oh, please. I’m too young to beyourmom.”
“Exceptyouare.”
“Technically,yes.”
“There’s notechnicallyabout it,” I said, my voice rising apitch.
“Yeah, well, no one would believe a hottie like me would have a twenty-six-year-oldson.”
“Okay, Mom, whateveryousay.”
* * *
Mother Nature hadnothing on me. Lying face down on my pillow in a puddle of drool, I hadn’t even felt the earth quaking until Richie added to the rumbling by shaking myshoulders.
“Dude, wake up –earthquake!”
The painkillers doing their job beautifully, I groaned my displeasure at the REM interruption while raising my hand to swathimaway.
“Finn, come on. It’s still going. This is astrongone.”
Honestly, at that point, I wouldn’t have cared if Los Angeles detached from the mainland. I was not getting out of my nice, comfy bed. “Let itkillme.”
A picture on my shelf tumbled to the floor, and the sound of breaking glass in the distance pierced through my drugged-outcoma.
“Finn!”
“Richie!” I said, waking just enough to give him a proper geological tongue-lashing. “What did I tell you about earthquakes? I won’t evacuate for anything less than a six on the Richterscale.”
“Yeah, I know that, but we aren’t living in utopia anymore. We’ve got a fucking meth labnextdoor.”
“Oh, shit.” I shot to my feet, confused. Richie grabbed me by my arm and steered me toward the front door. The shaking had stopped, but by then we were already in the hallway in our underwear. Our similarly startled neighbors were also exiting their apartments. A few wary souls were racing for the nearest exits, praying as they clutched their rosary beads. Those were the out-of-towners.
The rest of us battle-tested California natives milled around, assessing the damage. No smoke, no exploding drug crystals, no upstairs neighbor dangling from a hole in theceiling.
I turned to Richie. “You got me out of bedforthat?”
