There was a hollow laugh. It infuriated me more.
“Don’t act like you know him. You’ve been here for a day.” He put his drug on the coffee table.
I let my hands fall and took measured steps until I came right up to his toes. “I’ve known him my whole life. And you may be big. Hell, you could probably knock me out, but I'll make sure that there’s a reason you’re coming to the hospital with me.”
“You’re messing with shit you don’t understand, little girl.”
“And you’re messing with the life of an incredible guy, asshole.”
Endgame stood up and towered over me. And I was pretty tall. He puffed out his chest. “Maybe don’t threaten a guy in his own place.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, move. I’m staying.” I tipped my chin up and refused to look away. I wasn’t a fighter anymore, but I knew how to fight with Mom. Thanks to my upbringing, I could go to war with this guy emotionally, physically, whatever was needed.
“Pfft.” Endgame stepped to the side so he wouldn’t touch me. He walked past me and opened and closed his bedroom door.
I glanced down to the mug, his cigarette still burning. It was reckless—that little act. Leaving something burning and not caring said a lot about a person. I lifted the butt and tossed it into the kitchen sink, letting water turn the embers black.
I was starting to think I was here for a reason. I might be the only person allowed to see this side of Austin’s life, and it was scary. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him go through it alone.
4
AUSTIN
I woke up and it was three a.m. I had a blanket tucked around me and Taylor was close by, her hand resting on my shoulder. The washcloth on my face was cold, so she must have replaced it recently.
I lay still, thinking about what had gone down with Endgame.
From the very start, when I first laid eyes on him, I knew he was trouble. He was a mistake. He even told me as much. Of course, that made me more determined to fix him. To save him.
He was getting arrested when we first met. I was in the park, working with a model, one of my long-term clients who needed a picnic-themed shoot. All of a sudden there was a guy with face tattoos pretending to be my assistant.
“Um, do I know you?”
My model was perched on one of the large boulders the city had carted in for the park’s landscaping.
“Just go with it, okay?” He leaned down and started to mess with one of my bags.
“Go with what?” I held up a hand to my model. The sunset was due to hit in just a few minutes and I didn’t want to miss the lighting.
Just then two bicycle cops came on the scene. “There he is!”
As the man stood, I stuck out my foot and he tripped/sprawled on the ground.
One of the cops was on top of his back and the other wrangled out some cuffs.
The guy on the ground gave me as much of a dirty look as he could. “Thanks. You’re a real stand-up guy.”
And then when we caught each other’s eyes, it hit. I knew. I knew I had known this man in another life. There was no other way to explain it. The whole world stopped breathing and slowed. One beat at a time, until his face was imprinted on my soul. And even though we didn’t say anything else to each other, I knew I'd see him again.
And I wasn’t wrong. When I got home and unpacked my stuff, I found what had to be a half a pound of cocaine.
The criminal had hid his stash in my bag. I set it aside in my closet. I wasn’t sure how to dispose of it. I didn’t have to wonder long, because that very evening, Mr. Criminal was at my door.
“You have something of mine.” He lifted his eyebrow.
“I think it's a gift, being that you stuck it in my bag.” I stepped back as he stepped into my place. I knew he was dangerous, but I let him close the door to my apartment. “How come you’re not in jail?”
He walked into my place like he owned it and sank into the chair. “Because they can’t charge you for possession if you don’t have anything on you.”
“And did it occur to you that I could go to jail? Just because I was in the wrong place at the right time and you’re a douchebag?” I’d be angry if it didn't feel like this man’s whole being would fit into my own.
“Nah. They’d never test you. Look at you. You got nail polish on and half that stuff you’re wearing is designer shit. You got money.” He kicked his feet up on my coffee table.
“So what do you want?” I crossed my arms. Chances are that a guy carrying that much cocaine would have a…
He slid a pistol onto his lap. “Just need my stuff. Then I can get going.”
I didn’t know why I did it. Well, sure, when I was a kid, I’d had my share of haters. Bullies and stuff. Kids didn’t take kindly to a difference. And I could French braid all the girls’ hair by fifth grade and did so on the playground for Pokémon cards, so I had an ingrained instinct to make jerks’ lives hard. Or harder if I could.
“Nope. Sorry. Fed it to the squirrels. You know, city rodents are really into that kind of thing. We can probably see the little disco balls from their rave from here if we look hard enough.” I pointed with my pinkie out the window.
“I have a gun and you have a wise mouth. Not that smart, huh?” He stood up and walked to me.
I held my ground. In all the years I took beatings, I learned flinching or backing down made it worse.
The man put the gun to my temple. “You wouldn’t be that stupid.”
“You’d be surprised how stupid I can be.” And then I leaned forward and kissed him.
Endgame and I had our first make-out session with his loaded gun pointed at my head.
If that wasn’t a forewarning of times ahead, I didn’t know what was. And now I was here, pretending to date my little sister’s best friend to put distance between him and me.
There’s not a friend I had that couldn’t say I told you so. That they all told me dating a drug dealer—hell, letting him move in with me was a horrible idea.
God bless them, they put up with him. And some of them could even see it. The crackle between him and me. It bordered on hate. It could be confused for love. He’d hurt me so many times. Cheated on me more than I wanted to admit.
I allowed it to continue because I was addicted to that feeling. The freefall of danger. How wrong it was to let him in time and time again. To believe that he was changed this time. That it was real. The way he would act like I meant everything until he treated me like garbage.
Endgame had a horrible childhood. You couldn’t even call it a childhood. He was hustling on the street while I was learning to ride a bike.
The backstory kept changing now. The only constant in them was him. His mother was a saint that was addicted or a narcissist that got off on hurting others.
I watched Taylor stretched out asleep. Bringing people into our homes was something in my DNA. My parents had done it before me. Because of them, I now had an adopted brother in Gaze and his girlfriend/fiancée Pixie was family as well. Ruffian, Teddi’s boyfriend, was living with my parents now, too.
I sat up and ran my hands through my hair. Endgame and I had traded insults and hate, even coming to blows when he called Taylor a slut and slapped me. I punched him in response, and he smacked me back. It had been a first. Not the fight—that had happened before. Not the violence—that, too, had taken a dark turn I wasn’t proud of. But the fact I was stone-cold sober when I hit him.