Obsession (A Bad Boy's Secret Baby)(74)

She sat back, lips tightening dubiously. “I think you're the first person to ask me that. I mean, first that wasn't trying to find a way to sleep with her.”

“Well, I always did have a thing for junkies. She cute?”

Flora's eyes narrowed. It was clear she took offense. “You're determined to make me hate you.”

I kept quiet, hiding behind a sharp grin. That would be easier, wouldn't it...

Stirring her straw in the water, she hesitated. “Don't call her that word.” When I said nothing, she pressed on, not seeming to need my answer. “Growing up, it always felt like it was me and her against the world. My family was—is—very poor. We struggled for everything we ever had. I hated it. I hated the pity, I hated the disdain. It always felt like I started life a mile behind everyone else, and it didn't matter how fast I ran, I could never catch up.”

Flora's eyes sparkled. “But Claudine,” she said, “She told me that it was because of our struggles that we were stronger. That no one could survive a day in our shoes. That's what made us special. She taught me so much about the world and about myself. If I was ever in trouble, she would always find a way to help me. God, I looked up to her like crazy.”

“Sounds you still do.”

“Yeah.” Flora stared into her water sullenly. The crushing weight of her insurmountable task loomed before her.

That was tomorrow's problem, not today's. I'd always been of the mindset that it was best not to dwell on things that you couldn't, or wouldn't, change.

“Hey, I bet she didn't teach you to be crippled by doubt.” I lifted her chin with my finger and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Your sister needs you.” Then I offered a mischievous grin. “And from what I've seen of your interrogation methods, I wouldn't want to fuck with you.”

I felt terrible about encouraging her suicidal endeavor, but it was what she needed to hear. I'd learned by now that there was no changing Flora's mind. There was a small hole in my heart in knowing that she wasn't going to save anyone.

“You know all about me.” Flora palm-rubbed her eyes and smiled, stemming the budding tears. “What about you? You weren't born into that biker gang, were you?”

“I was born into the biker gang of life, but that's a long and boring story.” I finished my beer, stood up and grabbed my jacket. “Another time, maybe.”

“I didn't scare you off, did I, Mr. big tough outlaw-man?” Flora teased.

“Nah, but I do think it's your turn to pay. You got this one, right?”

“What?” Flora's eyes flashed nervously. “You know I don't have any money.”

I shrugged, slipping on the leather and affixing a grin. “Looks like you're going to have to roll up your sleeves and do some dishes.”

Flora shook her head. “You're unbelievable.”

I took a few twenties from my pocket and handed them to her.

She snatched the money and wryly smiled back. “Yeah, you better run.”

“No man can run from old habits.” I held up a pack of smokes and walked out.

****

Outside by the dumpster, the kitchen entrance was blasting early ninety's rap music. I took a drag from my cigarette and tried not to think. The cool air had crisped since we'd been inside. It felt refreshing on my face, sobering, even.

I saw Flora turn the corner, jacket folded over her arm. “Those things will kill you,” she said.

“Not fast enough.” I tapped the cigarette to knock off some ash.

She looked side to side. “I wondered where you got off to. You weren't by your bike.”

“It's too busy out front, too much noise.”

“Noise, really?” Flora motioned towards the open kitchen.

I blew a line of smoke out of the side of my mouth. “You want me to ask them to turn it down for you?”

She eyed me uncertainly, perhaps wondering if I'd really do it. Her expression lightened. “You never finished back there. Explaining, I mean. What were you before the club?”

I wasn't looking forward to reliving that experience, but she had me cornered. I was out of places to run.

But not out of ideas.

I reached out a hand, hearing that the next song that was blaring through the washroom boombox was a slow ballad. “Dance with me.”

“What, here? Next to this dumpster?” Flora giggled nervously, then took a step backwards when she saw my sincerity. “No, no no. I can't dance.”

“Then I guess you'll never know my past. The mystery will eat away at you until you're old and gray.”

After a fair amount of deliberation, her face screwed up in mild embarrassment. She begrudgingly took a step forward, taking my hand. “Fine,” she whispered. Her inner battle with giving in to my ridiculous demand was fun to watch.