Lawton

by Sabrina Stark

  Like I cared.

  Brittney gave another sigh. "I'm not in college either. I guess I'm not college material."

  None of this made sense. As far as I knew, she and Amber were sorority sisters. Or had I just assumed that? Did it matter?

  No, I decided. It didn't. What mattered now was getting her home, or wherever. I spoke very slowly, trying to cut through the haze. "Tell me who to call."

  From somewhere behind me, I heard Bishop say, "Why call anyone? Just toss her out on her ass."

  Chapter 22

  On the bathroom floor, Brittney scooted downward, as if trying to push herself up. Her ass moved. The dress didn't. A second later, I saw naked beaver. Again.

  She gave up and turned her face toward the doorway. "Hey!" she slurred, louder now. "No one tosses Brittney Adams, anywhere."

  Adams. I had a last name. Now what? I turned toward Bishop, who stood, leaning against the door jamb. "You're back," I said.

  "Yup." He looked down at the drunken blonde and gave a slow nod. "She looks like a Brittney."

  By now, it was pretty obvious that if I wanted her to go anywhere, I'd have to take her there myself. "I need to get her home," I said.

  "Where's home?" Bishop asked.

  "Hell if I know."

  "Bet I do."

  Bishop had this uncanny way of finding out things. But even he had his limits. "Yeah, right," I said.

  On the floor, Brittney tried – and failed – to push herself up. "I can't go home," she slurred. "My roommate's a slut."

  Bishop was nodding. "Slutty roommate, huh?" He flicked his head toward Brittney. "You want me to take her?"

  I gave Bishop a look. Banging a girl's slutty roommate wasn't exactly his style. "You want to?" I asked.

  "No. But I will." He held up something that I hadn't noticed. A small, black purse.

  I eyed the thing. "Where'd you get that?"

  "On your front lawn." He opened the purse and dug through it. He pulled out a driver's license. He read the address out loud.

  From the bathroom floor, Brittney stirred. "Heeeey. That place you just said? I live there, too. That is so weird."

  Bishop turned to me. "There you go. Wanna throw her in the car?"

  Groaning, Brittney struggled upward. This time, she managed something like a sitting position, with her legs splayed and her dress hiked up high above her hips.

  Bishop's gaze drifted downward. He paused. His gaze shifted to me.

  I shrugged. It wasn't my fault the box was unwrapped.

  Brittney made a pouty face. "Your floor's cold. This sucks."

  I looked down. Bare ass, tile floor. No doubt, it did suck. "Right," I said.

  "And besides," she slurred, "I can't go. I'm all locked out. Like with deadbolts and everything."

  "Yeah?" Bishop said, looking amused as hell. "Don't worry. We'll get you back in."

  She squinted up at him. "How?"

  Bishop and I exchanged a glance. Deadbolts wouldn't stop us. Neither would the roommate or whatever guests she might have. We'd done this before.

  "Let us worry about that," I said.

  Five minutes later, Brittney was asleep in the back seat of my darkest sedan. She was still sleeping an hour after that, when we tucked her, dress and all, into her own bed, inside her own apartment. The place was dark, but not dark enough to hide the truth.

  The place was a shithole.

  On the living room sofa, we spotted the roommate, a frizzy-haired blonde who, judging from the looks of her, either had a hardcore drug problem or a major eating disorder. Maybe both. She was snoring and naked with some pot-bellied guy who might've been her boyfriend, or her grandfather, judging from his age.

  The floor surrounding them was littered with empty beer cans and piles of snack wrappers – candy, chips, whatever. I spotted a cat dish, but no cat. Probably hiding.

  The nicest room in the whole place was Brittney's bedroom, which was surprisingly clean and decorated in girlie-girl fashion, with lots of pillows, ruffles, and lace. Hell, even the bed had been made – until we'd tucked Brittney into it.

  For some reason, the whole scene had made me sad, and just a little sorry for Brittney in spite of her bitchiness.

  The drive back to my place was mostly silent. Bishop and I were only half-brothers – same dad, different moms. But Brittney's place had hit too close to home. We'd grown up worse, but turned out better. How? Or why? Who knows?

  I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to forget.

  Maybe Chloe was part of that – something untouched by the ugliness that I'd grown up with. I wanted to keep it that way.

  I fell asleep a couple of hours before dawn, and woke too soon, to the sounds of my cell phone ringing. I reached out and answered it with a sleepy, "Yeah?"

  It was Amber. "I just got your message," she said. "You sounded mad. Is something wrong?"

  It was still dark. I lay back against the pillow. "Nah. Something came up. But it's over. Not a big deal."

  "What was it?" she asked.

  "Nothing important." Brittney could tell her. Or not. I was done with it. "I've gotta go, alright?"

  "Wait," she said. "First, I've got to tell you something."

  "Yeah? What?"

  "Remember the thing we talked about?" I heard a smile in her voice. "It's all set. It's going to be awesome. You'll totally love it."

  What was she talking about? I had no idea. I checked the time. I'd been asleep for just over an hour. "Sounds good," I said. "Catch you later, okay?"

  I disconnected the call and pushed myself up. I didn't bother trying to fall back asleep.

  Sleep was a problem. It had been a problem for as long as I could remember. Back in the old neighborhood, I'd slept with one eye open and a weapon within easy reach.

  Now, I didn't have to. But I still did. By habit? Who knows.

  It didn't matter. Sleep wasn't my friend. I wasn't like those guys in the mattress commercials, who lay there, peaceful as hell while little white sheep leapt over their heads.

  For me, it wasn't like that. When my eyes were closed, I didn't see sheep. I saw wolves in disguise – gangbangers, bookies, and so-called friends.

  Every once in a while, I saw Chloe. I felt myself smile. In my memories, I saw her face. I heard her voice. Those were the good nights. On those nights, sleep wasn't half-bad.

  And now, she was my neighbor. At the thought of her living just beyond my fence, I got out of bed and threw on some workout clothes. By eight o'clock, I'd already run ten miles and hit the weights, hard, in the basement.

  I'd also showered, dressed, and shoved a new bag of doggie treats into the front pocket of my jeans.

  I grabbed some juice and headed for my study. When she walked by, whenever that was, I'd be ready.

  Chapter 23

  A few hours later, it was a repeat of the previous day. But this time, when Chloe reached the front gate, I was heading out my front door. At the sight of me, she stopped and gave me a puzzled look, as if she couldn't decide if I was heading out toward her or toward the sedan that I'd left in the turnaround last night.

  As for the dog, it stopped only a split second before lunging toward me like his life depended on it.

  Behind him, Chloe grabbed the leash with both hands. "Chucky!" she called as the dog dragged her along behind him. "Stay!" She laughed. "Or heel! Or something! Aw, come on! You are such a stinker!"

  The dog wasn't listening. But I was.

  Stumbling forward with her little dog, she looked happy and carefree, like the first days of summer after a long, cold winter.

  It was funny, because winter was just around the corner. It was that time of year, almost November. Long, grey days were coming fast. Still, at the sight of Chloe, laughing in the sunshine, I felt warmth surge in all the right places.

  A winter with her, now that would be something.

  When I reached the sidewalk, I grinned down at the dog, who jumped up to paw at my legs. I pulled out the treats and gave them a shake
.

  From a few feet away, Chloe was breathless, but still laughing. "You are such a trouble-maker."

  I grinned over at her. "Me? Or the dog?"

  "Both."

  I lifted the bag of treats. "You care?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh, like I could say no now."

  She was right. She couldn’t say no. And I damn well knew it. Was I playing dirty? Maybe.

  But I had a plan. My plan was to take it slow, be friendly, but not too friendly. I'd known lots of girls. I'd had lots of girls. But I'd never had a girl like Chloe – a nice girl from a nice family.

  I'd never met Chloe's family, but it was easy to see that she came from a different world. I glanced around. She came from this world, a world of bankers and business people, a world where people had gardeners and goals and plans for the future. I almost smiled. Civilized people.

  As for me, I had my own history and reputation. Some of it was earned. Some of it wasn't. My job was to make her forget all that.

  Step one – bribe the dog. I crouched down and gave Chucky a few treats. After he wolfed them down, I scratched behind his ears until he flopped down at my feet, looking like he'd just gotten lucky with his favorite lady dog.

  Chloe crouched down beside me. She gave the terrier a perplexed look. "Are you sure that's the same dog?" She looked up, meeting my gaze. "You didn't pull a switch-a-roo, did you?"

  She was so close, I could see the flecks of green and gold in her hazel eyes. She had long, dark lashes and eyebrows just a shade darker than her windblown hair.

  Our lips were just inches apart, almost within kissing distance. I wanted to lean closer. Something in her eyes told me there was a chance – maybe a good chance – that she'd meet me halfway.

  But there was better chance she'd run off and never come back.

  So instead, I stood and offered to take Chucky's leash. Unlike yesterday, she didn't argue.

  We started out in silence. It was an easy silence until maybe a couple blocks later, when Chloe knelt down to retie one of her shoelaces. I stopped and waited, keeping one eye on her and another out for Chucky, who had leapt into the bushes after who-knows-what.

  I couldn’t see him. But I could hear him, rooting around in the fallen leaves. From somewhere up the sidewalk, I heard footsteps. I turned to look. Coming toward us, I spotted a grey-haired couple walking hand-in-hand. They wore slacks and windbreakers, not matching, but close enough.

  At the sight of me, the husband hesitated. He glanced down at his wife and whispered something that I couldn’t make out. She stopped in mid-stride and glanced around, as if looking for the best escape route, or maybe just a friendly cop.

  I'd seen that look before.

  It suddenly hit me that I'd been distracted when I'd gotten dressed. I was wearing a basic T-shirt and faded jeans, tattered and worn. Some people paid hundreds, maybe thousands, of dollars for that kind of look. But these jeans, they weren't like that. They were the real deal, remnants of earlier days when I couldn’t afford better.

  It was a stupid choice, all things considered. My size, my tattoos, my cheap-ass tattered clothes, they weren't the kinds of things you saw in a place like this. Once again, I didn't exactly blend.

  Beside me, Chloe finished tying her lace and stood. She looked toward the bushes, where Chucky was still rustling around for who-knows-what. "Hey, Chucky!" she said. "Look! A squirrel!"

  Chucky bounded out of the bushes like he'd understood exactly what she'd said. He looked around, and sure enough, spotted a squirrel running up a nearby tree. The dog went nuts, yapping his head off until the squirrel leapt into a neighboring tree and disappeared from sight.

  Next to me, Chloe was laughing. "Good dog." She knelt down to ruffle his fur. "You scared the pants off him. I could tell." She looked up, meeting my gaze. "I think someone deserves a treat, don't you?" She looked down at Chucky and asked, "Who's a good dog?"

  From the look on Chucky's face, he knew the answer. He was.

  I had to smile. Good, huh? That was debatable. But he was cute as hell and damn entertaining.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the treats. I held the bag out toward Chloe. "You wanna do it?"

  "I'd better." She gave the dog an indulgent smile. "If I’m not careful, he's gonna like you more than he likes me." She took the bag from my hand. Still crouching, she shook a few treats onto her open palm. One by one, she tossed them to Chucky, who caught them in the air and gulped them down fast.

  On the sidewalk ahead, I caught movement. I looked up to see the same couple, closer now. But this time, their strides were easy, and their faces were relaxed.

  When they reached us, they stopped. The woman smiled down at Chloe, who was still crouching with the terrier. "Cute dog," the woman said. "A Yorkie, right?"

  "Yup." Chloe smiled up at her. "But he's still kind of a puppy."

  The guy, looking easy and relaxed, wrapped an arm around his wife. "Yeah? How old?"

  Chloe gave them a sheepish grin. "Um, three years, I think."

  The couple laughed. So did I. A few minutes later, they were on their way. We'd actually talked about the weather. Well, that was a first.

  Walking again, I looked over at Chloe. She wore khaki slacks and a pink button-up sweater with little pearl buttons. I wasn't into brand names, but I knew quality when I saw it. Even the dog was designer.

  With her rich clothes and rich dog, she was exactly the kind of person that people in my old neighborhood would have hated. I frowned, thinking of what they might do to someone like her – a beautiful girl with plenty of money and zero street-smarts.

  If she was lucky, she'd only get robbed. Then again, luck was a rare commodity where I'd grown up. At the thought of Chloe in a place like that, I felt my fingers tense, itching for a fight.

  I liked her. I might even love her, as crazy as that sounded. And if anything happened to her, I didn't think I could stand it.

  In life, not a lot scared me. But that did. If I wasn't careful, I'd scare her, too. So, walking beside her, I worked to keep it casual. I said, "I always wanted a dog."

  She turned her head to look at me. "Really? Then why don't you have one?"

  I shrugged. "Too hard to take care of."

  "Oh c'mon," she said, "they're not that hard. Besides, you're great with dogs."

  "Yeah, but I'm gone a lot."

  "You're not gone that much," she said. "I see you around here all the time. Like almost every day."

  So she'd noticed? I felt myself smile. "Yeah? You been watching for me?"

  Her steps faltered. "No. Of course not." A hint of pink appeared on her cheeks. "It's just, well, I –"

  She looked so flustered that I had to laugh. "Just kidding. Truth is, I have been around a lot more lately. But it's not always like this."

  "So why is it now?" she asked. "Are you on vacation or something?"

  I recalled the first day I'd first seen her walking outside my gate. Before that day, I'd been spending ten, maybe fifteen hours a day at the office downtown. After that day, I'd been spending zero whenever I could.

  In the long run, it meant I had more work to do, not less. In the short term, it meant I got to see her, the girl I couldn't stop thinking about.

  I kept my tone casual. "Something like that."

  She looked intrigued. "You're not gonna tell me?"

  I stopped walking. So did she. I turned to face her. In her eyes, I saw that familiar caution, along with something else. It was the something else that made me say, "You can't guess?"

  Chapter 24

  I wanted to move toward her. What she wanted, I couldn't tell. So I stood, still as a statue, letting my question linger in the fall breeze. Around us, everything was moving – the leaves on the ground, the empty branches above, a mail-delivery truck two blocks ahead.

  As for Chloe, she was absolutely still. Against every urge, I waited, determined not to scare her off.

  And then it happened. Her lips parted, and she leaned closer. It was bare
ly an inch, but that's all it took. Slowly, I lowered my head toward hers.

  A yank on my hand stopped me short. It was Chucky's leash. In front of us, he was barking his furry head off. I turned to see him lunging for yet another squirrel – or maybe the same one as before – who knows.

  In front of us, the squirrel rocketed up a nearby tree. Chucky lunged and barked after it, going nuts while I held the leash steady. The squirrel stopped on a high branch, chattering as it looked down on us.

  Next to me, Chloe gave a shaky laugh. "I think it's taunting us."

  "Probably." I eyed the squirrel, wondering how it would taste with fava beans and a nice Chianti.

  I turned to Chloe, wanting to finish what we'd started. But she was already moving, walking forward as if nothing had happened. Damn it. Nothing had happened. But I wished like hell it had.

  As we moved, I looked over at her. She looked casual, maybe even too casual. An act? Or for real?

  "So," she asked, "why don't you get a dog of your own?"

  Because I didn't want my own dog. I wanted Chloe. I wanted the whole package – her, the dog, whatever she wanted. When I was with her, I felt like a different guy, not exactly normal, but a lot more normal than before. I could see a life with her, a nice easy life, with dogs and kids and maybe some grandkids later on.

  The thought hit me like a thunderbolt. I did not just think that. Still, the image lingered. And the longer it lingered, the more I liked it.

  Next to me, Chloe was walking faster now. Trying to focus, I recalled her question. Why didn't I get a dog of my own? I hadn't answered, had I?

  Better late than never. I kept my tone easy. "Because then, I couldn’t borrow yours."

  "Oh c'mon," she said. "Be serious."

  I was serious.

  She glanced over at me. "Why don't you?"

  I shrugged. "Maybe it's not fair to leave 'em alone."

  "You could always get a dog-walker." She hesitated. "Or a house sitter."

  Maybe I had trust issues, because that wasn't gonna happen. I made a scoffing sound. "Yeah, like I'm gonna trust some stranger with my dog. You hear stories."