Mel snorts as she trudges up the stairs. “Gabe isn’t the kind of guy that takes the time to make cement shoes. He does it with a bat and pushes you off a balcony. I bet you he covers his ass pretty good. No one can tell your brains were turned to pancake batter after they get scrambled on the sidewalk. Oh man, I’d kill for a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity Stack right now.”
“Nice segue. Disturbing and delicious.”
She laughs as we stop in front of my door. I reach for the knob and flick my eyes up to hers. “Why’d you say it?” She had to know what it would do to me—how suggesting that I propose to Sean would commandeer every other thought in my head.
“Because you should. Play the whole game ‘til the end. No regrets are at the end of that and you could use some steady right now. You second guess yourself too much. You have no idea how f**ked up your life has gotten and that nutjob is the only guy that’s turned your head, like ever.
“The question is, what kind of woman are you? Are you the kind to wait for some sappy guy to get down on his knee and ask for your hand in marriage? Because I don’t think you are. I think you’d tell that guy no. I think you need the headcase as much as he needs you. You’re both too stupid to admit it. Okay, I’m done playing Dr. Phil. My feet are killing me.” Mel leans in suddenly and bangs her fist on the door. She shouts, “Get your sorry ass out of there right now, you pasty pastry or I’ll bust your—”
The door flies open and Naked Guy gives me a sheepish look. He managed to pull his jeans on. A pair of boxers and a shirt dangle from his hand. He avoids Mel’s gaze entirely and darts down the hall.
“You better run!” Mel yells after him. Then she looks at me and smiles. “Rodent removal complete. Unless you want me to throw your roommate out on her ass too?”
“I can hear you!” Amber shouts from inside the room.
“I don’t give a shit, slutbag!” Mel’s gaze narrows on the door, which I’m holding in my hand, half-opened, half-closed.
“Thanks Mel. I’m fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
But I don’t see her on Thursday or Friday. I avoid Mel and Marty. I can’t think and I have to figure this out on my own. The way I left things with Sean was good, well, it sucked but we were still on speaking terms. If I try to find him and propose, I risk messing that up and I don’t know if I can bear it when he says no.
I fall asleep that night after tossing and turning way too long. Dreams come and are filled with storms and seawater that fills my lungs. Waves pummel me, but no one saves me. I drown and drift under the waves, with my lifeless body, into blackness.
CHAPTER 12
Saturday night comes and Mel knocks on my door while I’m getting ready for my new client—the cowboy. God, I hope he’s not crazy. I’ve had enough mentally unstable men to last a lifetime. When I signed the contract, Miss Black was updating her files so I didn’t see his picture, but I don’t care. This doesn’t matter. It’s a means to an end. One more client, one more night of letting someone I don’t care about use my body.
The weird thing is, since I saw Peter, I feel numb all over. I don’t care about tonight or the guy. It’s like someone dropped my sucky life into a vat of gel. Everything congealed and slowed.
The past few days feel like years. I’ve spent every free moment at my parent’s grave, talking to a headstone. I wish my mother was here. I wish I could ask her what to do. Did she have to chase Daddy? Did they break up and get back together again? Is Peter right? I don’t know and no matter how long I sit there, picking at the dead lawn and talking to her, there is no clarity.
Maybe I am a coward.
Mel doesn’t wait for me to open the door. She busts into my room as I’m shimmying my dress over my head. It slips over my hair and I see her standing there, decked out for her client. “Ready to bang this guy?” She grins at me and hands me a white plastic bag.
I take it from her, after I zip my dress, and look inside. “Really?” There’s a toy cap gun in there—the kind the Lone Ranger used, the kind you can’t buy anymore. “Where’d you get these?”
“Antique shop.”
“Shit, that makes me feel old. I played with these when I was a kid.”
“Yeah, they’re the real thing—asbestos and lead paint. They’re metal, baby. Perfect for straddling some strapping young man.” Mel grabs the guns and poses like Charlie’s Angels before doing her Yosemite Sam routine.
My lips curl into a smile as I watch her. “You seriously need to keep those. I’ve never seen you so happy over some toy.”
“I’ve got other toys that make me happy. We just don’t share those. It’s nasty.”
“Mel!” I make a face and slip my heels on. “You’re so gross.”
“So, you got a new bracelet from Black?” I nod. “And you have no intention of skipping out on work and going after Love Buns?”
“No,” I say, not meeting her gaze. “It’s over. Just leave it alone.”
“Fine. Well, have a fun f**k tonight. Use the guns in creative ways.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
I shove the guns back at her. “Seriously, keep them. You seem to have more uses in mind than I do, anyway.”
She shrugs, “Fine by me. I have that kinky guy tonight. He’ll love these.”
__
By the time Gabe drops me off at the hotel, it’s late. This client requested that I show up at his room at 9:00pm with a bottle of wine in hand. I approach the door in a daze. My heart doesn’t even feel like it’s beating anymore. Apathy has consumed me. I’m going to f**k this guy’s brains out and go home.
I won’t see Sean again.
It won’t matter what I do with anyone else. It won’t change the fact that I’m a hooker. It won’t give me a chance with Sean. That’s over. It’s gone.
Raising my hand, I knock on the door and wait. Usually the guy is eager and the door flies open, but this guy makes me wait. I shift my weight to the other hip and consider knocking again, when I hear the metallic scrape of the lock. When the guy pulls the door open, he’s standing in shadow. The lights in his room are off, save one light directly behind him. He’s taller than me, and well built. His sandy hair is tucked under a felt cowboy hat. The brim covers his face as he looks down at his boots.
“Hey,” I say, not really looking past his clothing.
But when he speaks, I recognize him immediately. My stomach flips as I look up into those familiar brown eyes. “Hey yourself, little lady.”
“Marty?”