I blinked at her. Then I took a long drag of my smoke, mostly to buy some time, to find a way to chase away the fucking tears lurking at the corners of my eyes. “Lily’s my best friend,” I said by explanation, shrugging. “This is her day. I’m not about to fuck her life up more than I already have.”
Rosie frowned at me. “Sister, you have not fucked up her life, or your own for that matter.”
I gave her a look. “So having shitty taste in men, becoming addicted to drugs, and almost killing myself with a cocktail of the two is living the American dream?”
Rosie gazed at me and, to my surprise, burst out laughing. When she finished, she grinned at me. “Who wants to live the fucking American dream? I think I’d die of boredom.” She reached out to squeeze my hand again. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s not exactly suburbia here.” She glanced around. “We’ve seen our fair share of ugly. Of shit. Of death.” She sucked in a breath, her eyes twinkling before she shook herself and moved her gaze to me. “But we’re still standing. Maybe a little bruised, maybe a little battered, but still here. And it’s always the people who have been through the most who are most interesting. The best kind of people.”
She let us bathe in the silence after her words, not pressuring me to respond straight away. I sucked on my smoke. “You always do therapy sessions with an ex-junkie stripper outside wedding receptions?” I asked finally.
She grinned. “Oh just every other Saturday. First one’s a freebie.”
I smiled back, a real one, crushing the butt under my combat boot and turning to her. “Thanks,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Anytime, sister,” she replied. “I mean that. Anytime. You’re not alone.”
It was nice, the sentiment. But despite the sincerity in her eyes and the support in her words, that’s what I was. Alone. You were born alone and you died alone. And you were alone all the time in between.
“Oh and I’ve been thinking, about alone. I’ve been living alone for a while now and it’s starting to get downright boring,” she said. “I don’t do boring. And also the chances of being targeted by a serial killer are heightened when you live alone. Trust me, I know, I watch Criminal Minds,” she deadpanned. “And I’m guessing living with the happy couple might just trigger your gag reflex, despite it being amazing, yada yada yada.” She made a mouth motion with her hands. “So how about you come and stay in my spare room and lower the chances of me being dismembered by a crazy guy with daddy issues?”
I gaped at her. Not just for some of her crazy statements said with a total straight face, but the fact she was asking someone she barely knew, someone recovering from a drug addiction, to live with her. “You’re serious.”
She grinned. “Oh, I’m rarely ever serious.” She waved her hand. “But this is a rare snippet of seriousness. Don’t tell me you can’t or won’t or whatever. Just say yes.”
I was tempted. Sorely. To get out of the house that taunted me with Faith’s presence. To let Lily live without worrying about me. “I’ve got a lot of baggage,” I informed her.
She grinned. “Good thing I’ve got lots of closet space.” Her gaze flickered behind me and her face paled. “Fuck,” she hissed. “Got to go, babe. I just made eye contact with a guy I may or may not have bumped uglies with. I do not want to repeat that experience.” She scrunched up her nose. “Two words. Back hair. Not cute. And you’re totally moving in with me.” She kissed my cheek, then turned on her fringed heel and darted towards the parking lot.
I watched her retreating back, shaking my head. It wasn’t long after her escape that all the demons lurking under the surface emerged once more. I resisted the urge to chain smoke there for the rest of my life, namely because of the large biker with cold eyes and scar-ribboned skin who was regarding me in a way that made me uncomfortable. Not checking me out; heck, I was used to that. No, he was looking at me like he actually saw me, the twisted black edges and demons clawing from inside my skin. He’d stared at me like that when he’d come to the club, when he’d helped ‘get rid’ of Dylan that day Lucky shot him. But I’d been too high to notice. To properly notice.
You’re imagining things. He looked a lot more like a murderer than a telepath, but I didn’t like to take my chances so, with one last glance at him, I slipped back inside. I was planning on finding Lily, saying my good-byes and getting the fuck out of there, but she was nowhere to be seen. Plus, I had no way to actually get the fuck out of there. Lucky was my ride since my effing car was still at City Hall.