“Have a nice life, asshole!” Turning, I stomp to my door. The lock evades me as I make desperate stabs at it with my key. It slides through the teeth, but before I can turn it Trick pins me to the door, my cheek pressed to the cool metal. I swear my ribs could crack from my heart beating in such a thunderous rage; every labored breath seethes through my clenched teeth.
His lips are so close to my ear I can feel their warmth. “I’m not an asshole. I just don’t like rich-bitch women who think they can strut their whore asses around and own me because they have a bigger bank account. I offered you a ride … period. So stop trying to buddy up to me. You don’t have anything I fucking want. Got it?”
I wriggle out of his grasp and turn.
Smack!
Fire rages through my hand, the effects of which I’m sure will last longer than on his face. “You are an asshole.” I shove him, but his feet stay rooted firmly to the ground. He doesn’t even sway. “You don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t know the balance of my bank account. So get the fuck away from me, and make sure you never end up in my ER again, because I won’t lift a goddamn finger to put you back together! Got. It?”
I whip around and stumble inside, closing and locking the door behind me before collapsing to the floor.
“Fuck!” he yells. “Darby!” He bangs on the door, but I don’t move.
I’m so pissed. The nerve of that jerk! But damn if I’m not as equally turned on. For the love of God, he ripped my dress. That was so damn hot! And when he slammed me against the door and rambled all that inconsiderate shit to me with a completely unwarranted judgmental attitude, I was even more pissed and proportionally aroused. I’m sure after a good night’s sleep and the return of my rational thinking, the only memory I’ll have from tonight will be his asshole attitude. But for now, the thing I’m most miffed about is that he’s gay!
Chapter Three
Four hours of sleep—not enough. However, as I drag my emotionally drained ass to work, lack of sleep is not my biggest concern. My clutch bag with my wallet and phone, aka my life, trumps everything else. I left it at Trick’s place. Note to self: Never burn bridges if your purse is on the other side.
I still can’t make sense of what happened. Everything seemed fine until I asked for a drink—one drink. It was as if I asked him for a kidney transplant. I blinked and he went from agreeing to give me a ride home to accusing me of trying to what? Buy him? Control him? Own him? All over one drink? He’s the asshole that ripped my dress and tried to kill me with his reckless driving! Welcome back, rational thinking.
“Good morning, sunshine. Long night?” Jade hands me a Green Lantern, my favorite raw green drink from Peel that I stockpile in the break room refrigerator. She’s the closest thing to a best friend that I have, and that’s pathetic considering we never see each other outside of work. But she knows I let my Green Lantern sit out thirty minutes so it’s not so cold when I drink it, and she’s kind enough to not act all exasperated about it like some people.
“Thanks. Mmm … perfect.” I lick my lips. “And yes, it was a long night. Steven got called into work and my evening went to hell in a handbag after that.” And now I’m in hell because I in fact don’t have my handbag! That reminds me, Steven! He’s probably blown up my phone with messages wondering where I was when he got home.
“What happened?”
“Cardiac arrest ten minutes out,” Ellen announces.
“Long story, I’ll tell you later. I need to make a quick call and get dressed.” I change into my scrubs and call Gemmie.
“Hel—lo?”
“Gemmie, it’s Darby. I’m sorry for waking you, but I need a favor.”
“Shit balls, Darby! It’s six-forty-five on a Sunday!”
“I know, hence the apology. I need you to get my purse from Trick. I need my phone back ASAP.”
“They’re not open on Sunday.” I can hear the growly yawn in her voice.
“It’s at his place. He lives—”
“I know where he lives. Wait … how do you?”
“Long story.” That seems to be the answer of the day. “Please … I need my phone. I’ll owe you big time.”
“The long story, that’s all I want. Soon!”
“Deal. Gotta go. Thank you. I love you. You’re the best!”
*
The next four hours fill with a steady flow of weekend crazies. A looming cloud of exhaustion chases me so I just keep going.
“Room two, possible fracture.” Jade hands me the chart.