“So . . . you’re not mad?”
“Not mad.”
“But you’re pissed off.”
“Very much.” Shit.
“What are you so pissed about, Diem?” Silence. “Diem?” More silence. I check my phone to see if I lost connection. I didn’t. “Hello?”
“I’m losing my mind,” she whispers, and I can hear her as she paces the floor.
“Are you okay?” A long pause.
“No. I don’t think I am.” She hangs up, and I ignore the women who beg for my attention as I walk back in. The guys call to me from across the room, but I ignore them too. I’m removing my cut as I find Cleft, who has a whore in his lap. I fold my patch, holding it out to him. He stands, knocking the whore on her ass in the process.
“I need to go home, Cleft. Tonight.”
* * *
I was a fucking idiot. I am a fucking idiot. I’d let thoughts of Diem being with another man boil my blood. The rage was so intense, I wanted to kill. Then, she told me she was home. At my home. Waiting on me. Not once did I consider how it would make her feel if she thought I might have done something with someone else. Now she had suspicions that I might have.
It takes me almost eight hours, but finally, I’m pulling into the driveway. The house is completely dark, but it’s not that late. I pull my gun from my back as I quietly walk up the steps on the porch. It’s a precaution when I’ve been away, but always a precaution when it comes to Diem. She’d pointed a gun at me once. This time, I believe she’s mad enough to use it.
I walk in and hear music coming from my bedroom. My eyes scan the living room and kitchen. Everything still seems to be intact. I sniff the air, searching for the scent of gasoline, but I don’t smell any. Thank fuck. Maybe the house will survive after all.
I ease open the door to my bedroom and the smell of weed is thick in the air. She must have found my stash of pot and emergency candles. Every one of them is lit, casting a glow across the room.
My shadow dances across the far wall and on the floor, facing it, sits Diem with her back against the bed. I drop my gun in my underwear drawer just as the song starts up again. It’s bluesy, slow and the woman singing sounds almost desperate. She must have it on repeat. I look over at my iPod and see Girl Crush—Lady Antebellum displayed on the screen—definitely not one of mine.
I approach Diem like I would a frightened animal. She’s dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, but her hair is styled and those heels are on her feet. Between her fingers, she holds a blunt.
“Diem?” She doesn’t acknowledge me, and her head dips further, preventing me from seeing her. “Are you crying?”
“No,” she sniffs.
I ease down on the floor next to her. Taking her chin in my hand, I turn her head to see black streaks running down her pretty face—her mascara staining her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t meet my gaze when she answers. “I’ve got a girl crush.” She frowns as two more tears fall freely from her eyes.
“A what?” I ask, confused as fuck as to what she’s talking about.
“A girl crush, Zeke. I got a girl crush on the woman who had you . . .” That must be some good weed.
“What woman?”
“That woman you were with earlier.” She wipes her nose with her hand. Damn she looks pitiful. Who knew with a little bit of pot, Diem could transform into a normal girl who has feelings and shit.
“I wasn’t with a woman,” I say, forcing her to look at me. “I wasn’t with a woman, Diem.” I tell her again when her eyes finally land on mine. At my admission, she cries harder.
“I’m crazy, Zeke. I’m totally losing my fucking mind. I’ve never been jealous in all of my life, but you . . .” She pokes her finger in my chest, her lips quivering. “You make me want to feel that way. You make me want to possess something that’s not even mine.” I take the blunt from her fingers, taking a much-needed drag before stubbing out the fire in the ashtray.
“You’re not crazy, Diem.”
“Why would you want me to hear the sound of some bitch choking on your cock?”
“That was a long time ago,” I say in my defense.
“What about today? Was that a long time ago too?” She’s hurt. I’m an asshole. And I’m feeling every bit of the side effects from that title too.
“I didn’t want that girl, Diem. Not then and not today.”
She searches my eyes, looking for truth. She’ll find it. Monica was convenient, but I never really wanted her. And I never gave those bitches today a second glance.
“Prove it,” she challenges, finding her backbone.