He does as I ask, but unhooks his seatbelt. “I’m coming in,” he says.
“You’re not.”
He smacks the steering wheel and I flinch. “I don’t want you doing anything for Luke Black. Got it?”
I scoff. “It’s my job. You can’t tell me not to do my job.”
“I’m serious, babe. I don’t want you working with him—I don’t care what the fuck it is. I don’t trust him.”
“You don’t trust Luke? He’s harmless. Besides you don’t trust half the guys I work with. Never stopped me before.”
His hand curls around my wrist and my stomach drops. “That’s the problem,” he hisses. “You don’t respect me enough to care about my feelings.”
I try to force myself not to react, hoping to end this conversation as quickly as possible. But I’m steadily growing more irritated by the second.
“I respect you plenty, Dash. But you can’t go around dictating who I work with because of irrational jealously.”
“Irrational?” he spits. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”
I roll my eyes, pulling my hand away in the process. “How does he look at me, Dash? Enlighten me.”
“Like he wants to do everything I get to do to you and so much more,” he replies in a quiet, tense voice.
I stifle a gasp, unsure of how to respond. Finally, I say, “that’s ridiculous” and throw open the passenger door jumping out before he can protest anymore. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I need some sleep.”
“You going to drop this business you have with him or not?”
“Not,” I respond in a huff.
Dash’s eyes widen, then his expression falls morphing into the one that made me fall for him in the first place. Those sad, lost eyes reflecting the pain of years of suffering. “Coco…” His voice cracks and my stomach twists. “Don’t do this to me.”
Even though my heart is breaking and I want to tell him to come inside and let me kiss the hurt away, I say, “I’m not doing anything. I promise. It’s just business, like he said. It’ll be over before you know it.”
His jaw clenches, his glassy eyes narrowing in response. “Do what you want.”
As he squeals off into the early morning hours, I know without a doubt he’ll make me pay. It may not be aggressive, but his response to this kind of defiance won’t be pretty. I’ll likely be enduring days of silence and multiple “forgotten” dates. But at this point, I’m so irritated I don’t even care. As I slip the key into the door, I can’t help but think of Sheila’s words. Dash doesn’t make life easier to deal with. Our relationship remains one of my biggest hurdles.
The second I step into the house the phone rings. I rush into the kitchen my heart racing. The first thought is that it’s Cole calling about Maya and the baby. She’s been about to pop for the past few weeks, and I’ve been waiting for the call like a kid for Christmas morning.
I scoop up the phone. “Hello?”
“Uh, hey.”
“Luke?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I know it’s late. But I saw you come in. You looked a little stressed. Thought you might want to come have a drink with me.”
I peer through the kitchen window, catching sight of his shadowy figure on the back porch. I wave and he waves back.
“It’s almost three in the morning,” I say.
“It’s happy hour somewhere.”
“I don’t know.”
“We can talk about the case. Maybe you could give me some advice from that legal mind of yours.”
There really isn’t much to talk about and I get the feeling he knows as much, but the invitation is one I find myself not being able to resist. I’m annoyed with Dash and I doubt I’ll be falling asleep anytime soon.
“Gonna grab a shower,” I reply with a smile. “I’ll see you in a few.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Luke
I flick my lighter, mentally steeling myself against the things I really want to say. Seeing her being smothered my Dash in the club tonight shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, but I can’t control the smoldering in my chest. But, by the way she stormed into the house just now, he clearly did something to piss her off. And I’m stoked. Which makes me kind of an asshole, I guess, but at the same time opens the door for me to be the kind of friend I want to be. Look out for her like Sheila asked.
Coco appears on the bottom step, a bottle of something in her hand and I feel an actual smile light up my face at the sight of her.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” She wiggles the bottle in front of her. “Figured I owed you from last time. Got any cups?”
She’s dressed a little more conservatively tonight. With a pair of cut-off jeans and baggy t-shirt. It’s disappointing and relieving at the same time. I nod, then gesture for her to sit beside me but she doesn’t move. Poised on the first step she places a hand on her hip, a scowl on her face and cocks her head to the side.
I can’t help but laugh a little at the nostalgia that act induces. Coco was always as clingy as she was bossy, which is pretty much why Cole and Ross avoided her like poison ivy.
“What’s up, Coco Puffs? You don’t look pleased.”
Her grimace softens a little bit, but those dark eyebrows rise simultaneously as she says, “You know, an addiction’s an addiction.”
I flick my ashes and stare at her, trying my best to figure out where this is going.
She continues her ascent up the stairs and places the bottle on the bench next to me. My head is level with her chest and I inhale my cigarette deeply when I notice the imprint of her nipples through the No Fear shirt she’s wearing. It’s probably Dash’s I realize. But the way it’s tucked in the front of her frayed jean shorts and hanging off her shoulder slightly has me begging my body not to react—scolding myself for going to that place yet again.
I take another deep drag of my cigarette her gaze on me the whole time.
“You should really find something else to be addicted to, Luke. Something that won’t kill you in the long run.” Her scowl disappears, replaced by a bright smile. “Like chocolate!”
The next puff of smoke swiftly catches in my throat and before I know it I’m doubled over wheezing, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“See?” she asks in that know-it-all tone. “Chocolate’s better any day of the week. Better those a cancer—.” The moment the C word leaves her mouth she snaps it shut, her brown eyes wide. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean.”
I put up one hand, the other fist still thumping my chest. “It’s fine,” I manage to squeeze out.
Coco lets out a heavy sigh and plops down next to me, the sweet aroma of whatever she rubbed all over herself before or after her shower competing with the nicotine fumes. I out my cigarette and push the ashtray to the side.
“I’m not trying to be…bossy,” she says. “Just don’t see the point in it. I tell Dash the same thing, but you know how he is. Says we’re all going to die somehow.” She rolls her eyes. “Why not delay the inevitable?”
Coco picks up the bottle of Alize and unscrews the top. She takes a sip and hands it to me.
Even though it’s not my speed, I take it anyway. “Enjoy your night?” I ask before taking a swig of my own.
“It was interesting.” Coco pulls her feet up on the bench. She’s wearing flip-flops and each one of her perfect looking toes is painted a shiny, pale purple. Slipping them off, she angles her body toward mine and crosses her toned legs. “Kind of reminds of our days at Chagrin’s.” She nudges me and I nod, because to be honest I’d been thinking the same thing all night. “I haven’t been to The L in ages,” Coco continues. “Dash hates it—except for Monday nights. He used to perform there with Ryan, like, two years ago. But ever since Ryan got married and had a kid, he isn’t much into the music scene anymore. Dash is pissed, of course. No one to play with, so he just beats on those drums by his lonesome. I know he’d love to play with all you guys again someday.”
&
nbsp; I laugh and pass her the liquor. “Yeah, can’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“Why?” She takes a slow sip, her eyes still on me.
“Because…well, Ross is in Seattle and like you said, Ryan’s hooked up.”
“But you’re not. I—I mean, you don’t really have a reason not to play. Do you?”
I shrug eagerly accepting the bottle again, quickly occupying my lips.
“I’m just saying, you were really good—are really good. Like legendary good. It’s been a while now. You’ve never thought about getting back into it? Especially with Ross in the industry now. I hear he’s doing pretty well with his studio.”
“Yeah, he’s doing alright. Could always use a new act. But he usually works with young kids. Like that band that played tonight. Glacier.”
Coco frowns and that’s when I remember she missed the performance completely. Thanks to a certain drummer and his grabby hands.
“Anyway,” I say, placing the bottle between us. “I’m thinking I’ll send him their info. He could use an act like that.”
Coco picks up the Alize, fiddling with the mouth of the bottle. “So you’d really never get up there again?”
“Not unless I had a good reason.”
Her responding smile is coy. “Like?”
“Like I’m broke and homeless,” I say hoping to drop the subject.
“That’s a shame. You’re amazing, Luke. You and Ross both are. But you? You’re…” She shrugs a little, then takes a long drink from the bottle.
“You know that stuff is deadly right?” I take it from her and place it on the ground. “Tastes like fruit punch and sneaks right up on ya.”
“My kind of drink.” She winks.
When she lies across the bench on her back, knees in the air, head right beside my lap and hands clasped on her stomach, I fight the urge to light up another cigarette. Instead, I pick up the bottle again and down the rest.
“I’m having lunch with my dad tomorrow. He wants to talk about the message I left. About your mother.”
For a split second I think she’s about to invite me and I grapple with how to turn her down without sounding ungrateful. Being in the same room as Mr. Rose unnerves me. Him being a judge and all. Him being the prosecutor who put my parents away. Him knowing my criminal history, how ever minor it is compared to the kind of crap he’s dealt with in the past.
She clears her throat. “I told him you couldn’t come. Because, I figured it was too short notice.” I let out a soft breath. “Figured you might be busy.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
We’re silent for a long while and I’m starting to feel the effects of the liquor. Sneaking up on me, just like predicted.
“Dash doesn’t want me to do this,” she says. “I probably shouldn’t even be here—on this bench right now. If he were to walk into your backyard he’d want to kill us both.”
I suck in a breath this time and clench my jaw. “Why’s that?”
“He thinks I’m cheating. And other than him, you’re the only guy I spend any real time with. Us being neighbors and all.”
“Oh.”
“But I’m going to help you anyway. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and besides, we’ve been friends for a long time. I don’t take that lightly.”
I choke back the anger. The urge to grab Dash by his throat again and put him in his place once and for all. “Thanks, Puffs.”
“You’re welcome.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Coco
It’s the glare of the early morning sun that wakes me the next morning. And it isn’t until I feel the heat of it on my skin that I realize I’m outside. It takes several more minutes for me to gather my bearings and when I register the difference between the hard surface beneath my back and the softness under my check I bolt up, rubbing my eyes.
Luke stirs beside me. He’s leaned back, head flopped to the side and his long legs are stretched out in front of him. Legs I’ve been sleeping on for god knows how long. The warmth tingling my cheeks has nothing to do with sunrise now and I slowly ease off the bench, a pounding in my head warning me to take it easy.
The empty bottle of Alize, lies on the wood panels of the Black’s back porch, Luke’s words about my choice of drink ringing in my ears. As quickly as I can, without inducing too much pain or dizziness, I make my way across the lawn toward my own.
The moment I get inside, I groan at the shrill of the telephone. The microwave clock reads 7:15. And one glance at the blinking light proves someone is desperate to get a hold of me.
I pick up the phone too late, getting nothing but a dial tone. So I dial in to check the messages.
“Hey, babe. Sorry about last night. I was tired and Luke—just call me. Okay? Was thinking we could do something.”
“Hey, babe. You’re probably still sleeping. After the late night we had, you’ll probably kill me for this later but I’m coming to wake you up.”
“Coco. It’s Dash. Where are you? I’ve been calling you all morning and you won’t answer the door. What the fuck?”
“Well, forget it now. Was planning on taking you to Hell’s Gate to watch the sunrise and have a little breakfast. You’re always the one saying I don’t do stuff like that. Just trying to apologize here. No need to hold a fucking grudge.”
“This is bullshit.” Click.
Shit. Of all the times for him to grow a conscience. I tentatively dial his number. By the sixth ring I know he’s either so pissed he’s ignoring the phone or—
A loud knock at the door confirms the latter and I rush through the porch toward the front door. When I open it Dash’s angry glare greets me.
“Hey,” I say, offering the most innocent smile I can. I’m relieved I still look a little sleep-rumpled. It might actually help me sell the story I’m going to have to make up on the spot. “What are you doing here so early?”
“Didn’t you get my messages?”
“Um—”
“Never mind.” He pushes his way inside, barely looking at me as he glances around. “What have you been doing all morning?”
“Dash, it’s just after seven. I was sleeping.” Which is true.
“And you didn’t hear the phone ring?”
“No.” Also true.
“Where were you?”
I pause, licking my lips and running my fingers through tangled hair. “I told you. Sleeping.”
He steps in front of me, so close I can smell the liquor on his breath.
“Were you drinking? You drove here drunk, Dash?”
“It was hours ago. Not drunk anymore.” He places both hands on my shoulders. “You know I don’t like when I can’t get a hold of you.”
“And you know it’s bound to happen once in a while.”
His eyes narrow. “Why are you being such a bitch?”
Stepping out of his grasp, I cast him a glare of my own. “I was sleeping. Just like everyone else in Lewiston.”
“Who were you sleeping with?”
“Are you kidding me? You are still on that? Nobody, Dash! I’m not sleeping with anyone but you. And look where that got me?”
He recoils, his green eyes going even darker. “Why don’t I believe you?”
I laugh. Because his accusations are so weak. Because the irony of all of this is just that hilarious. “I don’t know.” I say quietly. “I have no fucking clue.”
He just stares at me, as though his gaze alone is a world-class lie detector. He glances around a bit more, then crosses his arms.
“That jacket.”
I frown. “What?”
“The one you’re wearing. Where’d you get it.”
It feels like every drop of blood has just drained from my body. I glance down at my denim clad arms, completely confused. “I…” Shit. I what? It’s Luke’s jacket. Why I’m wearing it? When did I put it on? I have no clue. “It’s Cole’s.” And that’s the first lie I’ve actually told. Considering what the re
action to the truth might be, I only feel a little guilty.
“So you went to bed in those shorts and that jacket.”
“I fell asleep in these shorts and…this jacket. I…I don’t see why I have to explain this to you, Dash.”
“Because I’m your boyfriend. You’re with me. You refuse to move in with me. I’ve been trying to track you down all morning and you’re all buddy-buddy with Luke fucking Black. That’s why!”
I swallow the lump in my throat and do my best to ignore the way my stomach just dropped. None of this looks good. I should have just gone to bed last night. Instead, I had to go make things more complicated than they already were.
“I’m sorry you’re mad,” I say, still refusing to admit guilt. It’s not my usual M.O.. When it comes to Dash, I’m mostly honest to a fault. About everything from the athletes who’ve hit on me to the after parties I’ve been invited to, to sharing an adjoining room with a well-known womanizing client. That’s why we have so many of these arguments in the first place. But I’m so tired of them. So sick of always explaining everything.
“Are we done here?” I ask. “I’m tired.”
“So go to sleep.”
“I will”
He nods to the stairs and my stomach drops even further. “I’ll be in the den.”
Perfect.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Luke
For the first time in the last few weeks, I don’t wake up with a boner. I’m relieved, until I remember the way I fell asleep the night before—with Coco’s head on my lap, listening to her snore and mumble in her sleep. Then I’m relieved all over again.
The ideal thing would have been to wake her up and send her home. Instead, I wrapped her in my jacket and watched her sleep. Warned myself to ignore whatever was going on with my body. And I did. I kept reminding myself we were friends first. That we grew up together. That I’d known her all my life and looking at her that way, reacting the way I’ve been, was wrong. I used everything I could think of to douse the building fire in my blood. Her annoying habits as a kid—the tattle-tailing, the bossiness, the whining, the way I missed out on most of the fun because I had to occupy her just to keep her from telling my parents or her parents what kind of trouble Ross and Cole were getting into. And it worked—almost.
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