“I’m not the oneyoukilled.” Not wanting his response, I left the bathroom. Looking both ways, I rushed out to the bar. The overhead lights flipped on, and the patrons moved like zombies toward the door.
Standing in the middle of the dance floor was my very own tiny escort. Ashley rushed over to me, stumbling. I caught her, and she held my arms for balance. “There you are! I saw Luca and Marco and wondered if you relapsed on that tall drink of water.”
“No, I just got a little sick in the bathroom. No biggie.” I patted her hand and headed toward the exit. When we were near the door, I locked eyes with a pissed-off Marco. He stood across the room next to a frowning Pete. I turned my back on them and walked even faster, pulling a gigglingAshbehind me.
“Hey Sash, where areyour shoes?”
TWENTY
LUCA:You don’t have to stay with your parents. You’ll be safe in your apartment.
LUCA:You’ve missed three days of work. Please tell me you’re okay.
LUCA:Sasha, I’m so sorry. Please tell me what I can do to help you.
“Turn back time and leave me alone?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it was bullshit. I would watch him shoot a hundred guys before I erased him from my life.
I was a fucking monster.
The blue glow from the TV washed over my parents’ den as the rest of the house sat dark for the night. After the live execution in a public bathroom, I fused with those couch cushions and had no plans of leaving them. I was safe there under the hideous afghans, even if that safety was only an illusion.
My mom fussed and coddled me as only Maggie Mitchell could. And whileI usuallywould’ve been appalled, at that very moment, I soaked up the maternal loving like a sponge.I promised myself I would get up and go into the office the next day, but that didn’t seem likely as it was already 3 a.m. and reruns of Golden Girls ran until 5 a.m.
Cable. A perk of suburban life.
I was polishing off a second bowl of cookie dough ice cream with chocolate syrup when my dad quietly came through the door.
“What are you still doing up, kiddo?”
Rinsing out the bowl, I shrugged. “Can’t sleep.”
Dad rustled out of his jacket and kicked off his boots. A chair creaked behind me as I put the dishes in the dishwasher.
“Your mom said you’ve been up all night and most of the day. What’s going on?”
I took a deep breath to keep from spilling my guts. My dad had always been the interrogator. He could get me to sing like a fucking canary.
When I finally looked at him, my guts twisted up, and my eyes stung with tears. So much for a brave front.
“Nothing, just some personal shit I can’t seem to shake.”
Nodding, Dad got up and took a plate of wrapped leftovers from the fridge. “Boyfriend troubles?” He took off the saran wrap and popped the plate in the microwave. “Girlfriend issues?”
His eyes stayed on his plate, rotating as he asked the second question, his shoulders tensing up. I didn’t doubt that my dad loved me, but I knew that my sexuality would always be a weird spot to avoid at all costs, and that fucking hurt.
It took me a couple of minutes to figure out how to respond. “No, nothing like that. It’s just. I don’t know. I don’t feel safe in my apartment anymore.”
The microwave dinged, and Dad took out the sizzling lasagna. He snagged two beers from the fridge and a paper towel. Without asking, he slid a beer to me before settling back in his chair. “You shouldn’t be living in the city, kid. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”
“Mhm.” Anger flushed my cheeks with heat. We had this fight pretty regularly.
“I still have that handgun I got you for Christmas if you want it.”
My fingers peeled the label from the bottle as I diverted eye contact. That gun was his “thoughtful” gift after I moved into a studio apartment a few blocks from Tower Grove Park. I refused to take it, and it stayed in his gun safe ever since.
“I know.”