by Kira Graham
For two months, to be exact—if not longer, actually, seeing as how she was crashing at my place before we almost died.
“I concur, but I still disagree about Channing. When is the last time that you went out on a date?” I ask, my eyes going wide when she shrugs and curls her lip.
“Dunno and don’t care. I’m going Eat Pray Love at the moment and focusing on me.”
Blink.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, hardly believing my ears.
In our little group, we’ve always accused Alex of being loose, but if I’m being honest, she never dated any more than the rest of us did—which is to say, a lot. Even I dated around a bit, and Tee—well, she’s never been completely single, either, even when whatever guy she’s with has been nothing more than a screw buddy.
“You heard me. I’m not into trivial flings anymore.”
“Since when?” I ask, shoving a piece of popcorn in my mouth, because, well, it’s popcorn.
“Since I almost died and realized that I didn’t want to die alone and dating a guy who was nothing more than a number on my phone,” she says, shrugging when I gape.
“Tee…”
“It’s no big deal. I mean, after I almost lost my job, and then with you nearly dying and finding out that you’re infertile and dry in the womb—”
“Gee, thanks,” I grumble with a huff of offended pride.
“I wasn’t trying to be bitchy; I’m just saying it like it is. Besides, tell me that you didn’t start rethinking your life after the accident,” she says, smiling when I grimace and incline my head.
“I have been. I guess. I don’t know, really. It’s hard to reevaluate things when I’m stuck in this funk and basically trapped until my leg heals,” I point out.
“Well, it will happen, and then you’re going to go out there and realize that nothing looks the same. Relationships, partying, squabbles that seem important but aren’t, really. It’s all going to look like stuff that doesn’t matter anymore, and you’re going to want something that does.”
I gape now, because—well, this is Tee saying these things, and Tee just doesn’t say these kinds of things. She’s not the type to get too deep, unless you’re referring to her teeth lodged in someone’s arm. Or face, or whatever body part she can reach.
“Are you—God, I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but—are you…starting to care?” I ask, shocked when she purses her lips and shrugs again.
“I guess. I mean, I’m not just going to become a whole different person all of a sudden,” she scoffs, making me giggle. “But I don’t want to look back on my life and think, ‘What did I do? What have I left behind?’” she says, looking more serious than I have ever seen Tee get.
It shocks me, and it also makes me feel immature and stupid, because I haven’t once evaluated that accident and thought that I should change my life. Why would I want to? I like…huh. I mean, I like that I’m…
Dammit.
Now I can’t think of anything that I like about myself, and I used to think that I was awesome.
“That accident was my fault. No wonder everyone’s pissed at me.”
“Bullshit. That accident was in no way on you. And nothing else that that freak does is on you, either. This is just one part of our lives, and when they catch this asshole, we’ll go on and do great things. Even you, Sulky Sin,” she adds mockingly.
“I am not sulky! I’m injured.”
“You’re sulking because you lost your temper and said a whole bunch of emotional shit that you didn’t want to say, and then Paris called you on it and walked out without fighting for you, and that makes you feel sad,” she taunts, her lips jutting out before she snorts and giggles.
“Fuck you.”
“You wish, bitch. I’m more of a broody-man-lover, myself. Not really into chicks who get their asses handed to them and then sulk for two months instead of fighting for what they want.”
“I don’t know what I want!” I rage, my emotions getting the better of me.
“Bullshit.”
“Is that, like, the only word you know?” I sneer, wanting to argue now that she’s snapped my leash.
Tee just smiles, a patient smile that I didn’t know she was capable of, and tilts her head as if she’s reading me like a book. I don’t want that. I want to stay on this couch, drinking wine, eating junk food, and feeling sorry for myself. I have the right to a little pity, for God’s sake, and if no one else is going to give it to me, then I’ll have to supply it myself.
“I know lotsa words. Like denial. Cowardice. Refusal. Fear. Weakness.”
“Those are all the same word,” I reply gratingly, nursing my wounded pride as she smirks, takes the wine bottle, and places it on the coffee table instead of drinking from it as I expect her to.
“Well, lookee here, folks, she’s getting mad. Does that make you mad, Sinai? Does it piss you off to hear that you’re being weak and pathetic and slowly letting yourself die?” she asks, jumping back when I lash out, my fist just missing her and slamming into the couch.
“I am not weak! I survived something that I shouldn’t have survived, and I am still here. I didn’t give up, even when things were so bad that anyone else would have just let go!” I hiss, my jaw clenching when she shakes her head and smiles mockingly.
“I’d have been out of that hospital bed the very next day, kicking ass and taking names. Cleo would have done the same, and even Alex, that big old baby, would have fucked someone up if they’d even suggested that she should have died from some measly little fender bender.”
“That isn’t true! I was brave and strong, and I didn’t let it get to me, even when I had nightmares over and over about going through that window,” I rail, falling back when I realize that I’ve risen, and my legs give out on me.
Jesus, God, that hurts, I think, gritting my teeth as I clutch at my leg and try to stave off the nausea that hits me along with the pain.
“Then why the hell are you sitting on this couch, getting addicted to painkillers and drinking wine, feeling sorry for yourself like some…some normal person, when you should be out there spitting in life’s eye and shoving its lemons back up its ass?” she asks, causing me to blink and fall back in surprise.
Was she just…playing with me? I wonder as I watch her eyeing me and breathing heavily, that unholy glint shining so fiercely that I can feel it heating up my skin where it hits me. Is she, dare I say, right? Have I just been…?
“Goddammit! I don’t want to sit on this couch and live with you for the rest of my life just because things happened that I couldn’t control,” I hiss, my ire skyrocketing as I think about the last two months.
“Well, what do you want, then?” she asks again, her smile growing when I firm my jaw and narrow my eyes.
I know what I want, but knowing what I want and having what I want are two totally different things. Just because I want something doesn’t mean that I’m going to get it. There are things that I can’t change. Does that mean that I have to just accept them and give up? I ask myself. Or does it mean that I’ll just have to work harder to fix things?
I don’t know that I can win, or that I can make myself into something that I’m not. And honestly, I don’t want to change who I am, but maybe I need to…compromise in order to get what I want. And what I want is a chance with Paris. I love that man, and finally admitting that to myself is like removing this weight that’s been crushing me for a long time.
I love him, and not because I can’t have him, because even I’m not that messed up, but because…
“Say it,” Tee demands, her face hard as I swallow and open my mouth, only to close it again when the words get stuck in my throat. “Say it, Sin,” she orders, this time so fiercely that I feel fear skitter down my spine.
Tee is a cool chick, and someone that I trust with my life, but there is one thing that will never change about her, no matter how many near-death experiences she has. The woman has a terrible temper, and she’s always more pr
one to being violent than to being reasonable. I now see that she’s forcing me to start breathing again, and if that means that she has to crack a few ribs to get the air in, then she’ll do it with a smile. And probably freaking enjoy my screams of pain.
“I want love and happiness and babies,” I whisper, my eyes going wet when she nods for me to continue.
I can’t, though. It’s one thing to say those things, but another to say this last part, because what if it doesn’t matter what I want? I could scream my love from the rooftops and still end up falling on my face when a stiff wind knocks me off balance.
Maybe I need to Eat Pray Love it for a little bit. Get my head on straight. And then—
“I said say it, Sinai, or I swear to God that I will hurt you, and no, I don’t care that you’re injured, because there is no such thing as a fair fight,” she warns, her eyes going dark when I curl my hands into fists.
“I want…him.”
“You’re going to have to clarify things for me, loser. I don’t quite understand who it is you want,” she barks, prompting me to curse and wobble to my feet, the pain only slightly unbearable when I force my leg to take the weight.
I haven’t been keeping up with the therapy, so it’s not that the bone isn’t healing, but rather that my muscles aren’t liking the strain. I can bear it, though. I can.
“Paris,” I grumble, the word muffled by my sulky tone.
“Sorry, what? I didn’t hear you.”
“Paris,” I grate out between clenched teeth, deciding that I should just hit her because she’s enjoying my discomfort way too much.
“What?”
“Paris! Dammit, I said that I want Paris, you ass. There. Are you happy now? I want a man whom I not only rejected, but who likely doesn’t even want me after I told him that I’m as fertile as a salt flat!”
“That’s awesome!” Tee croons, slapping my back hard enough to send me flying across the coffee table.
When I recover, by which I mean after I stop screaming in pain and confirm that I haven’t pissed myself, I sit up and glare at her, blowing a strand of dirty hair out of my face.
“How is that awesome? Were you not listening when I told you that Paris didn’t seem all that enamored with my confession of love? Or what about the part where he walked out and hasn’t called me since?” I ask, pulling myself up with a groan and glaring at Tee when she doesn’t offer to help.
Insensitive bitch.
“Oh, I heard all that,” she trills, waving it off as if it doesn’t matter. “But what you didn’t tell anyone, and what I know, because I’m not an idiot, is that you’re not infertile, just…a little…less fertile. You could still use whatever eggs are in there, fertilize them, and then let some poor, unsuspecting idiot carry your babies.”
“What?” I ask, aghast, shocked, and whatever other word you want to use to describe just how taken aback I am.
“I said,” she begins, dragging each word out, “that you can have babies, Sin; you just can’t carry them. So don’t. Let’s face it—it’s not the mom part that we object to; it’s being pregnant and having to do the whole birth thing that freaks most women out. Look at this as receiving a get-out-of-jail-free card from that bitch called Life. You have kids, but you don’t get the stretch marks, the saggy tits, or the loose mud flaps between your legs.”
“Alex will kill you if she ever hears you saying those things about pregnant women,” I point out, needing a minute for it all to sink in.
It takes me a bit, but it’s understandably a lot to consider. I never thought about this because, well, it’s just not something that I ever considered—which is dumb because my own mom couldn’t carry a baby to term and relied on my Aunt Honey to be a surrogate for her.
I myself am therefore the result of a surrogacy, so the concept isn’t alien to me. I should have considered it earlier, and now, as I do, I realize something that hurts me as much as it gives me hope. Even if Paris isn’t into the whole “let’s get together and make some other schmuck have our baby” idea, I could still have a kid. Sure, I’m not spellbound by the idea of getting some stranger’s spunk from the sperm bank in order to fertilize my eggs so that some other chick can carry my baby, but, considering the hopelessness that I was living with before, it’s definitely an option.
“Alex can kiss my un-ruined ass,” Tee smirks, her eyes going soft. “So, are you ready to go get what you want?”
I am. I am very ready, but I need a little time first. I need to prepare myself for the possibility that I could fail epically, and anyway, I have unfinished business…
“I’m ready, but I have something that I need to do first,” I say, my head tilting as my eyes find the egg carton that’s still standing on the counter, right where I left it this morning.
Tee’s eyes follow mine, and I watch them go wide before she smiles widely and turns back to grin at me, her eyes now twinkling with glee.
“Did you know that there’s a secret back door to this apartment that the security guys don’t know about?”
“Is that a fact?” I drawl, already reaching for the crutches that I’ve been avoiding, my mood suddenly a lot brighter than it’s been in a long time.
“We could, er, borrow my neighbor’s car and hit up the convenience store two blocks down,” she suggests, following me as I move towards the kitchen pantry, where she’s pointing.
“This is going to be epic.”
Chapter Ten
Paris
“What?” I roar into the phone, coming up out of my seat so fast that the chair tumbles back and slams onto the floor.
My exhaustion is gone instantly, but I find myself rooted to the spot and unable to make sense of what Grange is telling me, his laughter garbling so much of what he’s saying that he has to repeat it.
“They’re—oh God, did she get the fucker’s Porsche?” he yells at someone, his laughter booming out so loudly that I have to whip the phone away from my head in order to save my eardrum. “Sin and Tee—they’re egging that asshole’s house,” he wheezes, just as I hear the whoop whoop of a siren. “Shit! Grab them, Nate!”
“What the hell is going on?” I yell, already grabbing my coat and heading for the door as I hear a scuffle, a gunshot, and then a male voice yelling for everyone to freeze.
“Um…you should get down to the police station!” is the last thing I hear before the line goes dead, leaving me stunned and blinking at my phone before I snap out of it and jump into action.
The restaurant is crammed with people at the moment, and I really should stay to take the call that I’ve been waiting for, in order to haggle over a price deal with Joe, but I hardly consider it as I storm down the hall, past the dining room, and out into the crisp winter air outside. The door opens seconds later, and I turn to see Alex, Chilli, Adonis, and Zeus spilling out behind us, just before it slams open again, this time so hard that it ricochets off the wall, shatters the glass, and heralds the arrival of the devil herself. Rosetta.
“Yo, what’s up?” Adonis asks, looking around for Cleo, who stumbles out in a pair of heels the color of avocados.
Christ, could someone please tell her that color is important when it comes to clothes?
“Tee and Sin. I think they’ve just been arrested,” I breathe, my eyes still wide because I can’t believe what’s happening.
“What?”
“Are you serious?” Alex asks, her hand going to Chilli’s as his phone rings.
He answers, and we all wait impatiently as he nods and hums, then hangs up and starts laughing harder than even Grange had laughed when he called.
“That was Jack. We need to haul ass down to the station, and Rose needs to pull some strings.”
“What the hell is going on? Why would Tee and Sin get arrested? Sin can hardly walk!” Rosetta yells, her nostrils flaring when Chilli whispers something to Alex, and she giggles hysterically.
“They egged Cole Veldman’s house. And Sin gave his brand new Porsche a paint job. They were c
aught red-handed by the cops, who had to carry a singing Sin to the squad car, because apparently when they stopped to buy eggs, they also grabbed a few bottles of whiskey on the way out,” she sputters.
Now, Rosetta does laugh, and she’s still laughing when I start cursing and asking what the hell is wrong with them. This isn’t funny, dammit, and it isn’t cute that Sinai thinks that her debut back into the world should begin with a felony.
“But—but you don’t understand, Paris. This is what we’ve been waiting for! It’s been two whole months, but it’s the sign we needed that she’s finally back,” Cleo whoops, falling sideways when she tries to dance in place and ends up twisting her ankle.
Adonis catches her, of course, and then they start kissing, because that’s what these two do, no matter where they are or who’s around. Disgusting.
“What are you talking about? She’s on medication. She can’t drink.”
“Tell that to Sinai, and to Tee. I freaking dare you to yell that shit at Nefertiti,” Ares grins, his amusement dying when I clench my hands into fists and growl, letting them know exactly how afraid I am of Nefertiti Sweet.
Not at all.
She’s a bad influence on Sin, and she isn’t endearing herself to me any more by encouraging the woman to do things that could get her hurt again. What the hell are they doing out and about at—I check my watch—midnight on a Friday night? And why the hell didn’t Grange stop them?
“I dare you to say that to Sin. She’s back!” Alex crows, doing her version of a victory dance while Rosetta just smiles, take’s Z’s arm, and struts off towards their car as if everything is right in the world again.
But me? I’m pissed. I don’t know what upsets me more, knowing that Sin’s being reckless with her safety again, or knowing that the first thing she did after she stopped feeling sorry for herself was run towards Cole fucking Veldman. I should just shoot that asshole and get it over with. Maybe then I’d be able to count on being Sinai’s first stop.
“Oh, stop sulking,” Cleo grumbles when I get into the back seat of Adonis’s car just seconds before he pulls away. “Unfinished business always comes first, especially with Sin. This is her thing, man. She gets upset, becomes a hermit, and then gets revenge. It’s a healing mechanism,” she says gravely, ruining the attempt at seriousness when she sputters and starts to clap her hands while jumping around in her seat.