Slow Burn(14)

    He laughed. “Getting amped is the way to be a superhero. You are so right.”

    “When I’m a superhero,” I said, lying back on Clint’s couch, “I’m not going to have a cape. I’m going to have super great boots though. Red boots.”

    “What’s up with you and red?”

    “It’s a great color, that’s what.”

    “Shit.”

    I sat up on the couch. “Shit? What’s wrong? We did all the coke, didn’t we?”

    “Not all of it,” he said, coming back into the room, holding up the bag. “But way more than half. There’s no way he won’t notice.”

    “Shit,” I said. “But I want more.”

    “I know. Me too.”

    “He’s already going to be pissed, right?”

    “Yeah,” said Clint.

    “Well, let’s just do the rest of it, and I’ll pay him back.”

    “I don’t know,” said Clint. “He’s going to be really mad.”

    The door opened. “Mad about what?”

    I jumped to my feet. “Rough Hands?”

    Rough Hands looked at me. “Leigh? What are you doing here?”

    “What did you call him?” said Clint.

    “This is that bitch I was telling you about,” said Rough Hands, pointing at me. “She kicked me out at the ass crack of dawn.”

    “Whatever,” I said. “It was like 9:30.”

    “He’s my roommate,” said Clint. “His name’s Rusty. But I guess you guys already met, huh?”

    Rusty seemed to register what Clint was holding for the first time. “Dude. Is that my stash?”

    Clint set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Look, Rusty, I’m really sorry and—”

    “It is, isn’t it?” Rusty balled his hands into fists.

    I got between Rusty and Clint. “Hey, Rusty, look, I’ve got money. I’ll pay you back. Whatever you think it’s worth.”

    He pushed me out of the way. “I don’t want money. I want my stash.”

    I landed on the couch, twisted a little, so that my weight fell on my arm. I cried out in pain.

    Rusty stepped around the coffee table, got in Clint’s face, and pulled back his fist.

    “Hey, man,” said Clint. “I’m really sorry.” He tried to back away, but the coffee table was in the way.

    Rusty punched Clint.

    Clint howled, doubling in on himself.

    Rusty grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him upright. He punched him again.

    Clint’s nose started bleeding. Gushing really. Maybe it was already screwed up from all the coke he’d been snorting.

    I got up. “Don’t hit him.”

    Rusty rounded on me. “You shut up, you little cunt.”

    I swallowed. “I know you’re mad, and I know we shouldn’t have—”

    He had me by the shoulders, propelling me up against the wall. “I said to shut up.”

    “Stop it,” I said.

    He slammed me up against the wall. “I know your type. You’re nothing but a cheap drug-addled whore, and I can’t believe I actually put my dick in you.”

    My head glanced painfully. I yelled.

    He knocked my head into the wall again. “Thank God I was wearing a condom.”

    Pain bloomed in my skull. “Please,” I whimpered.

    The door flew open. A blur of muscles and denim swept across the room, tackling Rusty.

    When they stopped moving enough that I could make things out, Griffin was on top of Rusty, his hands wrapped around Rusty’s neck. Rusty lay flat on his back. His face was purple.

    Griffin’s face was inches from Rusty. “What the hell is your problem?”

    Rusty’s eyes bulged.

    “You get a charge out of hurting women?”

    Rusty’s tongue protruded from his mouth, blue and swollen.

    Griffin let go of him and stood up. “Don’t ever touch her again.” He turned to look at me. “You okay, doll?”