Perfect Chaos(10)

“Tristan? Who’s that again?” I asked innocently.

He half-smiled then shook his head and turned, striding toward the door back into the coffee shop.

“I can date whoever I want, Deck.” I liked Deck’s protective side. Sure, it made my life difficult and sometimes pissed me off, but it made me feel as if he cared about me and I was holding onto that with both hands.

“Try me,” he shot back.

I grabbed the closest thing to me, a can of coffee grinds, and threw it at him. It hit the doorframe beside his head and he didn’t even flinch as he walked through the swinging door.

I heard a loud bang and the bell of the front door rang. A second later, Rylie came running into the stock room. “Shit, what the hell was that? Oh, my God, Deck’s face. Georgie, he was pissed. I’ve never seen him hit anything before. He’s always so … together.”

I plopped down onto my ass on the floor then lay back, putting my arm over my eyes. “I’m friggin’ exhausted.” I’d had it. I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to get Deck out of my head.

“Umm, Georgie? You okay?”

“We still on for tomorrow night?” I asked. It was Wednesday night, and I had to go to Avalanche where I knew there was a good chance someone was there I wanted to meet. Well, wanted was the wrong word. I had to meet.

“Ah, about that.”

I sat up. “Jesus. He talked to you?”

Rylie nodded. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘talk’. After he punched the side of the espresso machine, he told me to lay off the bars with you.”

“Bullshit. What did he really say?”

She held out her hand; I took it then she pulled me to my feet. “‘The fuckin’ bars are off-limits for Georgie’.”

“Him and his off-limits.”

Rylie put her arm around my shoulders and I knew she was bailing on me for tomorrow night. Deck really did scare her and I guess if you didn’t know him like I did, then she had the right to be scared.

Rylie was the same height as me, five-foot-five, and she was conservative as much as I wasn’t. Her hair was always perfectly pulled back tight in a ponytail while mine was all over the place, hadn’t seen scissors in years and had been every color of the rainbow. I wore skimpy clothes I found in Kensington market downtown, which never matched and she bought smart sets from the mall.

But we got along with one another. We’d connected instantly when I hired her a few months ago, I think partly because I used to be a lot like her. With my best friends busy, Emily horse-whispering and Kat painting, both with their men who were in the hit band Tear Asunder, I needed another cohort to party with. Rylie may be straight-laced, but she liked to dance, drink and party, which was exactly what I needed.

“Deck doesn’t own me. And I’m going out. You can come or not. Either way, I’m drinking Deck out from between my legs.” It was time. I had to get him out of me and stop holding onto something he’d never take—me.

Rylie winced. “Maybe we should cool it for a few days. We’ve been partying hard for weeks. Besides, I’m low on cash. Unless you intend to give me a raise?” She smiled.

I laughed. “Babe, I love you, but you just had one. And now, I’m out of here. Patrick will be in any minute for the evening shift.” Her cheeks flushed and I happy-danced my eyebrows. “And you need to fuck that man. Seriously. He likes you and he’s in the cupcake club, so he’s totally allowed to be shagged in the back of the shop after close. That’s if you don’t mind being on camera.”

Rylie giggled then shoved me away. “I’m not sleeping with him. He’s slept with every hot chick who’s walked in the place.”

“Well, then he must know what he’s doing.”

“I’ll sleep with Patrick the day you sleep with Deck.”

“Oh, I sleep with Deck every single night.”

Rylie laughed and walked toward the front. “Vibrators named Deck don’t count.”

I stuck my tongue out at her before she disappeared from view. She laughed.

Grabbing my purse off the floor near the fire exit, I opened it, took out my cell and dialed his number.



I FUCKED UP. With this shit going down and now leaving without a man on her … I didn’t like it. Not when I had a job in the works, which could affect her. If there was any leak of who we were after, she could become a target. The last time she became a target, Georgie had nearly gotten herself killed by leaping out of the attic on top a guy who had a fuckin’ gun on her best friend, Emily. The sick fuck, Alfonzo, trained girls then sold them into the sex trade. Georgie had been drugged up and taken to a warehouse where the transporter was going to ship her, Emily and this girl, Raven—real name, London—off to God knows where. Jesus, if that had happened … girls rarely ever came back from that shit. They disappeared.