Sonny raised his eyebrows up and down. “Just don’t let him get away with all the shit he does. I know Dex. You make him see what he’s done and he’ll react. He’s not a total shit. He’s got a big mouth and a short temper.”
I thought about the night before and how he’d asked me for forgiveness. Forgiveness that I only half-assed gave him. Hmm.
Sonny’s words, along with my insistence that I really didn’t care too much about staying in my boss’s good graces, swept over me in understanding and approval. I was already looking for another job, though that search wasn't going successfully. What was Dex going to do if I was being honest with him? Fire me? Like I friggin' cared by that point.
That was a lie, I did care. At least until I found another job, I'd care. There was always that back-up plan in the form of trampling over what remained of my pride and asking Son for money.
“I can do that,” I told him honestly.
He nodded slowly. “I know you can, Ris.”
With my game plan in mind, I smiled. “You got plans for the day?”
“What do you want to do?”
I batted my eyelashes, which I’m pretty sure still had clumps of mascara on them from the night before, and grinned. “Want to clean out your garage?”
~ * ~ *
We spent that Sunday afternoon going through Sonny's dusty, filled-with-crap garage.
At least five times I heard him muttering, "Only for you, Ris. Only for you." We managed to go through half of it, quitting only when the mosquitoes got so bad I was whacking a body part every other second.
By the time I came out of the shower, Sonny was dressed and stated that he had “club business”—whatever that meant—to attend to and that he’d be back later.
I made dinner for two, ate my share, and then molded my ass to the couch to watch television for a little bit. A little bit turned into hours, hours that added to my relaxation with rerun after rerun. The last thing I remembered before passing out a little after midnight was thinking that I should have moved to Vegas to get a job with the guys at Pawn Stars instead of Pins.
~ * ~ *
“Just leave her on the couch.”
“Bro, that’s fuckin’ uncomfortable.”
Someone sighed but I was still in my loopy, I’m-fighting-to-stay-asleep-world while the two voices spoke from what seemed like dimensions away. My dreamscape, a place that looked just like the park my dad had taken me to every week when he’d been a permanent fixture, was tilting on its axis as the voices outside got louder.
“You’re right. Let me go take a piss, and then I’ll get her up," someone said.
The silence that followed should have made it easier for me to slip back into my dream, but the depression of the cushion under me did the opposite. Two arms slipped beneath me, one spanning the width of my shoulder blades and the other hooking under both knees. Then I was up and against something warm and solid, something specifically that smelled like a hint of exhaust over clean laundry detergent. It was good. Even my half asleep dream-ass knew it.
My eyes cracked open to see that I was being carried down the hallway of Sonny’s house. My face rocked against a chest, my nose pressed to a man’s throat. And I knew, instinctively, that it wasn’t Sonny’s. That chump would have made me walk to my room.
I tilted my head up, blinking slowly to take in the person carrying me. Hair so dark it that couldn't be Trip. But the high cheekbones and hard angle of a jaw were all I needed to realize that it was Dex.
Dex!
“What are you—,“ I started to yawn, fighting the closing pull of my eyes.
"Go back to sleep," he murmured under his breath without even moving his lips.
He didn’t look down at me when he stopped at the closed bedroom door or when he opened it by putting my butt on what I imagined was a raised knee. Dex finally looked down when he was setting me on the mattress gently. He didn’t smile or wait for me to ask why he was putting me to bed.
He took a step back in my super dark room and whispered, “Night, Ritz,” before closing the door and leaving me in there alone.
If I would have been less tired, I probably would have wondered what the hell was going on instead of falling right back asleep, but I wasn’t, and trying to figure out Dex’s actions wasn’t something a half-asleep brain, much less a fully competent one, could handle.
Chapter Eight
When I got up the next morning, I was seriously asking myself what the hell had happened the night before.
I knew it couldn’t have been a dream. Dex The Dick carrying me to my room had happened.