“Understand? Tico? I hope that you’re right, but you better get that message out quick, brother,” Preppy holds his nose. “And this body. It stinks so bad it’s almost killing my appetite.” He shoves another cookie in his mouth while still holding his nose. “How you planning on explaining shit to him. Email? Stripper-gram? I’ve recently discovered that balloon bouquets are quite popular.”
“The only way I can get a message to him that he actually might listen to.” I crack my knuckles. “In person.”
By the time I pull up to the RV, I’ve sent a message to Tico by way of every encrypted email and phone number he’s ever been known to use requesting a face-to-face.
Now, I wait.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and step back inside my RV where I pause when I find a stranger standing in my kitchen with her back to me. Only, she’s not a stranger. She’s from the past. The same light white-blonde hair to her shoulders on one side and slightly shorter on the other. She’s wearing an off-the-shoulder, slouchy baby blue shirt over a short white denim skirt and plain white tennis shoes.
She looks exactly like she did the night I met her.
“Poe?” I ask, without thinking.
I think I’ve just fucked up royally, but she turns around and jumps at my presence, placing her hand over her heart. She pulls out the ear buds from her ears that are connected to my old MP3 player, peeking out from her pocket.
“You scared me,” she says, taking a deep breath.
Not nearly as much as you scare me.
“What do you think?” she asks, twirling around slowly with her arms open so I can get a look at her.
My throat is dry. My pulse is racing.
It’s hard to come up with the right words that can explain to her all the things I’m thinking and feeling about how she looks right now. Fuckable. Gorgeous. My living breathing wet dream.
MINE.
I clear my throat and decide that simple is best.
“I think it’s…you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
LENNY
When Nine tells me that he’s taking me somewhere tonight, I can’t help but be excited, especially when he says that wherever we’re going is two towns over in Coral Pines where Ricci’s men wouldn’t be looking for me.
After I do some more primping and preening with the makeup that Dre left for me and step out of the RV. Nine is waiting for me at his truck, looking as handsome as ever in his standard, fitted white t-shirt and low-slung jeans. His hair is wet from his recent shower.
He glances up at me and freezes, his jaw open. He flicks his cigarette and comes to stand before me. “There you are,” he says, and I know he’s not talking about my physical presence. He’s taking in my new shorter platinum blonde hair and my off-the-shoulder shirt. I traded my glasses for a pair of contacts I luckily remembered to pack in my toiletries bag.
“You look fucking amazing,” he says, appreciation lacing his deep raspy voice.
“Yep, I’m here,” I reply, feeling suddenly nervous. I press my fingers into my palms but Nine surprises me when he takes my wrist and lifts my hand.
I try to pull my hand back, but he holds it firm, turning my palm up he looks over the crescent shaped scabs and scars. I wait for a question to come asking why I do this to myself or an admonishment of some sort, but what he does surprises me more than harsh words or judgements ever could. He presses a gentle kiss over the scabs then folds my fingers back in, releasing my hand.
I’m shaking now while Nine looks completely unaffected. He doesn’t say a word about what he just did or why.
“So, where exactly are we going?” I ask.
His lips turn up in a crooked grin. “Well, since the two of us have lived very adult lives before we ever had a chance to be kids…”
“Yeah?” I press.
He opens the passenger door of his truck and lifts me up inside. “What do you say we go be kids for a while?”
My heart leaps. Whatever the plan is the answer is yes.
“I say, lead the way.”
The second I set foot on the mushy grass parking lot, I breathe in the scent of fried foods and a sugary sweet scent, as if cotton candy was blowing around in the breeze like sugary dandelions.
Laughter and music floats through the air from within a vast, fenced-in area, which is covered with dozens of black tarps, presumably to prevent onlookers from taking a peek at what’s going on inside.
“A fair?” I ask, my palms sweaty with excitement. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a fair. Mindless fair games and dizzying rides are just the distraction I’ve been looking for that doesn’t come in a bottle.