I push out of his embrace. “Well, it did.”
Tugging my T-shirt into place, I limp toward the tree line.
“Shit. I’m sorry about your ankle, Lou.”
I shrug. “I’ve had worse injuries. Pain is just weakness leaving the body, right?”
Ever since the first time I heard that saying, I’ve wondered if that includes pain of the soul? If so, mine must be made of steel, forged in the fires of suffering and heartbreak.
He takes several strides to catch up with me. “Can we start over? I want to be friends. I’ve missed you, Lou.”
I stop, putting my hand flat on his chest, halting him. “Friends? Yeah, that worked out so well for me the last time. Look, I’m not going to fuck you or anything else, Buck. So run along. I’m just not interested.”
His jaw drops a fraction, but he recovers quickly. “You know, maybe I’m not as bad as you’ve convinced yourself I am. Maybe—damn it, Lou—maybe I do want to fuck you. Is that so wrong?”
ELEVEN
I can’t win for fucking losing with her.
Lou backs away, throwing her hands in the air as she turns. “Whatever. Look, I’ve got to get off this ankle so it will be good to go by tomorrow. I start my new job and I need to be ready. And I sure as hell need the money more than I need to stand here talking to you, because that doesn’t pay.”
She stalks away, leaving me with my dick in the dirt again.
Fuck.
I head back toward home.
When I step out of the trees onto our side of the property line, Thug Two waits, arms crossed, frown firmly in place.
“Fuck, man. I hired you—why is it I that feel like a kid who just got caught sneaking out?”
He shrugs.
Thug One appears out of the dark. “Hey, Boss. It would really help if you’d let us know where you’re going.”
I wave him off as I trudge toward the house.
Thug One jogs to catch up. “Sir. You should know, I just warned the paparazzi to keep their distance. I caught one with a telephoto lens slinking along the fence at the road.”
The first couple of times you catch paparazzi taking photos, it’s a little exciting, flattering even. The eightieth time you find them lurking around, willing to cross all socially acceptable lines, trying their damnedest to get a shot of your cock hanging out when you take a leak at the corner of the house, or a picture of your bare ass on a private beach that you paid huge amounts of money to rent just so you could run around naked if you want to—not so flattering, not so exciting.
Now it just pisses me off when they follow me. Find me. Stalk me.
I thought I knew the price of fame—no one gets it until they are famous, but by then it’s too late.
* * *
I let myself in through the backdoor, holding my breath, hoping Tuffy doesn’t start barking his fool head off. As I creep through the kitchen, only the ancient clock on the wall acknowledges my presence with its tick-tick-tick keeping time with each step I take.
Tuffy’s getting old. Must be going deaf, poor boy.
I round the corner and a shock of white shining in the pitch darkness of the hallway pulls me up short.
“Tuff, what’re you doing?” I kneel to take his fluffy head in my hands, scratching him behind his velveteen ears the way he always liked.
He sits, his back leg scratching at my hand as he grunts and groans, pushing his ear against my palm. He rolls to the floor, presenting his belly for a scratch. His soft fur is about as well-kept as Nan’s silvered hair—of course, considering they both visit their respective hairdressers every other week, it’s not surprising.
He lets out a whine and a little yodel.
“Shush. You’ll wake Pops and Nan.” I drop to my ass and pull Tuffy’s head into my lap. “At least you smell better than the day we found you.”
Lou and I walked along Silo Road, picking up cans. She needed—what was it? Oh, a new backpack for school. Nan tried to give her one of my old ones, but her momma wouldn’t have it. Said she wasn’t taking charity from snotty bitches who look down their noses on her. As far as I could tell, Nan never did any such thing, but that was Lou’s mom.
Lou and I figured if we earned the money by recycling aluminum cans, that wasn’t charity.
We dragged our half-full garbage bags of cans through the grass as we trudged along the side of the road, the sun beating down on us. A whimper is followed by laughter.
Lou didn’t hesitate. She plunged off through the trees, following the sound.
We dropped our bags a few yards into the woods, jumping over brambles and brush as we went deeper. I almost ran Lou over when she stopped. I grabbed her shoulders, and we stumbled to the edge of the line of trees.