Sometimes my plans work out so fucking well that I’m pretty sure I should be in politics. There’s only one tiny loose end.
And I’m staring right at her.
“Does that mean I get my payment now?”
“Yeah, sure. You have to take it home though. Reed won’t try kicking you out till tomorrow. Might as well crash at his place instead of moving back into your parents’ garage.”
“Yeah, you got that right. Maybe I can convince him to party with me. He might like it so much he’ll let me stay.”
“You never know,” I respond, wondering if she’s always been this stupid or if the drugs have fried her brains. I reach behind the couch and grab the overnight bag I put there after Callie left for work this morning. “But now you have to leave. I can’t risk Callie seeing you.”
“What? How are we going to have our parties anymore?” she pouts.
“We’ll figure that out as we need to,” I murmur, handing her the bag. It’s my hope she’ll party herself right out of my way when she gets back to Reed’s.
“Sounds good,” she laughs. “You want to give me one more for the road, while goody two shoes is gone?” she asks.
“You know I always want you, baby doll, but I’m late for work. I got to keep those checks coming in so I can get your care package stocked next month.”
“Care package?” she asks frowning.
I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes.
I point at the bag. “The drugs, Chasity.”
“Oh! Yeah,” she laughs. Then, without warning, she jumps up to kiss me.
I hold myself still for a bit, then decide to give in and kiss her back. Might as well, with any luck it will be her last one.
45 Reed
I just can’t do it anymore.
It’s one in the morning and I’ve been hiding out in the garage’s office. I would have slept there, but I need a damn shower. I’m taking Chas to the doctor tomorrow. I’ve been pushing her for over a month. There’s just something off. She keeps saying the baby is moving, but every time I check I haven’t felt shit. I should have already dragged her ass to the doctor, but that would mean dealing with her.
To be honest, ever since that day on the street when Callie’s car went by with Mitch driving and Callie flipping me off, I’ve lost interest in doing anything. That ends in the morning, though. I’ll take Chasity to the doctor and find out what’s going on there. Then, I’m going to go see Callie. It may not do me a bit of good. I figure I’ve lost my shot there, but I want to see her. I want to tell her she was right all along and I’m an idiot. If she’ll give me a shot, I’ll beg on my hands and knees. I have money to put Chasity up in a cheap ass apartment for the remainder of her pregnancy and I’ll keep putting it back. Fuck, I’ll buy my kid, if given the option.
If there even is a kid.
She is gaining weight and she has a baby bump. So, maybe I’m worrying for nothing. Hell if I know anymore. I get to the door and frown because it’s not even locked. Jesus, I know I’m just downstairs, but I tell Chas over and over that she needs to lock the fucking door. I walk in and Jesus Christ!
There is shit everywhere, plus, liquor bottles galore. It looks like she’s had some wild frat party. Anger burns in my gut. If my baby is still inside of her, what kind of damage has the bitch done? I jog into the room, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Chas!” I growl, my voice barely recognizable. If she’s done anything to hurt my child, I’m going to kill her. I stomp through the chaos of what used to be a home and is now just a place filled with misery. I open the bedroom door, but she’s not in there. Fuck! Is she even here? As I walk back into the living room, I notice the window above the sofa is broken. I walk to it and see she’s thrown the fucking lamp through the window. The lamp that Callie bought the week she moved in here. She wanted to make the house “homier”, she said. She had no idea that for me she was home…. “Chas!” I cry out again. I look out the window, just to make sure she hasn’t done something stupid like climb out of it. My heart was thundering so loudly, my pulse echoing in my ears that I didn’t notice the faint sound of running water until just now. I take off for the small bathroom. The door is locked. Jesus. I bang my fist into the door. “Chasity!!!!” I cry out, screaming by this point. When she doesn’t answer, I heave my shoulder into the flimsy wooden door and break it way from the frame. I barely right myself before my gaze turns to the running shower. The curtain is open, Chas is under the spray of water, fully dressed, white foam coming out of her mouth, slumped down in the corner, completely unconscious.