For A Good Time, Call... (26 page)

There
was the sound of a chuckle and it made my insides feel uncomfortably
wobbly. And I got all the more angry with him. He wasn't allowed to
have that power. Not anymore. “It's my cactus,” he called
back.

“You
abandoned it,” I said. “So schoolyard rules come into
play.”

“You
cant call 'finders keepers' on another person's property.”

“It
was in an abandoned apartment. So technically it didn't belong to
anyone anymore. Besides, I bought it in the first place.”

“Where's
my skull planter?” he asked, ignoring what I had said. And it
was every bit annoying as it used to be.

“Smashed
to splinters in an alley,” I shot back. “Hope you like
pink and purple heart planters.”

“In
fact, I love them.” There was a pause, the lump in my throat
was too hard to talk through. “Open the door, Fee,” he
said, his voice soft and reassuring. A voice that touched something
deep inside that I had been trying to forget existed.

“Go
scratch at someone elses door, Hunter. You're not welcome here
anymore. And don't fucking break in again.”

I
wrapped my arms around my middle that felt like it was falling apart.
Like all my insides were going to fall out if I didn't hold them in.

“Is
this about your new boyfriend?” he asked, his voice with only
the slightest edge to it when he said that word.

I
felt myself snort, shaking my head. He didn't have a right to be
angry or jealous or... anything. He up and left. And, not for
nothing, but he knew how fucked up I was. How damaged. He knew I was
going into a situation that could have easily screwed me up worse.
Then to get back and see him leave his “f-you” cactus in
his empty apartment...

I
could have done something really, really stupid for all he knew.

So
if, instead, all I had done was go out and find myself a normal
relationship... then good for me. And fuck him if he thought I had
done something wrong.

I
wasn't about to tell him that Jake was just the new number fourteen.
And was gayer than Christmas. He was attractive enough to be a threat
to Hunter. So, good. Be threatened.

“Never
mind him,” I said, willing my voice to be calm. “This is
about you being a coward.”

“If
you would just let me explain, Fee,” he said instead, sounding
sad. As sad as I felt, in fact.

“No,”
I said, sliding open my balcony door. I didn't care that it was
twenty degrees out and that I was barefoot. I just needed to get
away. I was just barely holding it together. I needed to get away.
“It's too late, Hunter,” I said, sliding the door and
blocking out the sound of whatever he said.

I
lowered myself down onto the cold cement, wrapping my arms around my
legs and rocking myself back and forth, trying to take some comfort
in the motion. God damn it all. I thought things were okay. Settled.
I thought I had found some kind of equilibrium.

Now
it just felt like it had felt right when I first knew he was gone.
Like the swirling hollowness in my chest, like someone was ripping
out the insides of my belly. Like I was falling fucking apart.

A
strange injured animal sound came out of my lips, halfway between a
scream and a cry that had Jake's balcony door opening and stepping
out, looking around. “Fiona?” he asked, sounding worried.

“I'm
fine,” I lied, closing my eyes tight against the tears but they
streamed out anyway.

“Fine?
With a fine piece of man like that outside your door begging like a
dog for a bone? I think not.” I saw him move toward the side of
the balcony closest to mine, leaning against the railing and looking
down at me. “Spill, neighbor.”

I
took a deep breath. “He's the former fourteen,” I told
him.

“And
former... boyfriend?”

“He
wasn't my boyfriend,” I said automatically. That was a phrase I
had said to myself all day every day like it was on repeat
endlessly:
he's not your boyfriend, he's not your boyfriend, he's
not your boyfriend.

“He
seems pretty torn up for a non-boyfriend.”

“He
can rot in hell.”

“Awe,
Fee,” a voice said that had me jumping. “You don't mean
that.”

“Jesus!
What the fuck?” Jake exploded and I knew where Hunter's voice
was coming from: Jake's balcony.

“Sorry,
babe,” a third voice, unfamiliar broke in. “I thought you
knew him. He was knocking on your door when I came up.”

Jake's
boyfriend. It must have been positively cozy over on that tiny
balcony. I buried my face into my knees harder. I wasn't going to let
him see me cry. No way.

“Dude,
get the fuck out of my apartment,” Jake said, sounding meaner
than I thought he could.

“Yeah,
one sec, guys,” Hunter said. His voice held a mocking tone when
he spoke to me again. “So it seems that your new boyfriend is
gay.” I bit hard into my lower lip to keep from talking. Which
would only lead to another argument. Also, he would know I was upset.
“You're gonna get pneumonia sitting out here like this,”
he reasoned.

Like
you'd care. “Just go, Fourteen.”

“Fee...”

“I
think it's time to leave, bud,” Jake's boyfriend said and I
sneaked a glance at him, big and burly. Jake had a thing for bears.
He was just big enough to give Hunter a run for his money.

“Fine,”
Hunter said. “Fee...”

“Now,”
the boyfriend said again, holding an arm out toward the now open
sliding door.

Hunter
sighed but went in through his old apartment. I heard the door to the
hall close and let out my breath. “You sure you don't want to
give him a second chance?” Jake asked, wiggling his eyebrows at
me.

Nope.
Not at all. “Yeah,” I said, getting to my feet. “Never
been more sure of anything in my life.” I opened the door to my
apartment, shivering in the cold. “Tell your boyfriend thanks
for me.” And with that, I went straight for my razor blade for
the first time in weeks.

Twenty-Two

I
winced as I slid opaque black stockings up over the fresh cuts,
cursing myself fiercely. Stupid. It was so incredibly stupid to
backslide over something as pathetic and predictable as a broken
heart. For Christ's sake. I used to do it because of my horror story
worthy past. Because it was the only way to cope.

And
here I was slipping into old destructive habits over a guy?
Seriously? How weak could I get?

I
hadn't left my apartment the whole day after he showed up. I worked
out with Jake. The punishing, ass breaking two hour workout I had
started after Hunter left. The workouts that replaced the endorphins
I wasn't getting from cutting. The workouts that had made me drop
perhaps a bit too much weight, but were a way for me to stay focused.
To help me look forward instead of behind. To fall into bed too
drained to even consider not sleeping.

Then
I had cooked. Taken a bunch of extra calls I didn't need to.
Actually, I didn't need to take any calls anymore. But I needed to do
something to occupy my time. My mind.

It
was two nights later, and I needed to get out of my apartment or I
was going to go crazy. Besides, I hadn't heard from Hunter since
Jake's balcony so I figured I had gotten my point across.

I
pulled a red wine colored dress on and black boots, fixed my makeup,
dried my hair. Then, with one slow, deep breath, I headed out for the
night. The goal was dinner, a open mic at a coffee house, a drink at
a bar, then home. I was not, absolutely was not, going to get drunk.
Not even though oblivion sounded really, really good right now.

That
was until, of course, I opened my door to find a note pinned to it. I
knew who it was from. And I had every intention of ripping it right
up and dispensing of it in the dumpster outside the building. Yeah,
that was the plan.

But
I had barely made it out the front door before I was opening it, the
pit in my stomach growing by the minute.

Fee,

You
have every right to hate me. I never would have left like that if I
had a choice. Please believe me when I tell you I truly didn't. If
you would just speak to me, I could explain everything.

• Hunt
  

Explain
what? Like how he couldn't find two minutes to call and tell me he
was sorry? Or a text saying he had to go and he'll explain everything
when he gets back? I could have accepted that. I would have taken any
tiny scrap he fed to me. I would have made a fucking feast of it.
But, no, he had chosen to starve me instead.

I
crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. There was no excuse for
what he did. What? Was he chained in a fucking dungeon somewhere?
Locked up? What could possibly explain not taking the time to call
me? Nothing. Literally nothing. So he could take his explanations and
shove them up his ass. Because I wasn't going to listen to them.

Okay.
So maybe I got a little drunk. And by “a little drunk” I
meant fucking plastered. I was gone before we were anywhere near last
call. I was so trashed, I was asking random strangers how drunk I was
and laughed until I couldn't breathe at their words.

Sloshed.
Pissed. Wrecked. Bombed. Loaded.

And
my personal favorite: schnockered.

“Drunk
Girl,” Guy, my favorite bouncer, nodded at me as he sat down in
front of his drink. “Been a while.”

“I
was trying to be not so drunk girl,” I slurred, toasting him
with my glass.

“Well
it was worth a shot,” he said, nodding.

“Shot!
That's a good idea. Shot me please!” I called out and the
bartender raised a brow but reached for the vodka.

“No,”
a voice called out behind me. “Don't you think she's had
enough? She wont be able to walk as it is.”

“Fuck
off, Fourteen,” I said, rolling my eyes dramatically at the
bartender. “Don't listen to him. I can walk just fine. See?”
I said, getting up off the bar stool and demonstrating my major
walking skills. And to my credit, and thanks to one too many nights
drunk walking home, I only stumbled slightly. “And in heels
nonetheless!” I declared happily, walking back to the bar and
slapping my hand on it.

“No,
Fee,” Hunter said, grabbing my hand.

“Hey,”
Guy cut in, looking like he was ready to get out of his chair. “Drunk
Girl, do you know this guy?”

“He's...”

“Her
ex,” Hunter said and I stumbled back a step.

Ex?
He was not an ex. Ex implied boyfriend status at some point. He was
never my boyfriend. “He's my ex neighbor,” I corrected.

“Awe,
sugar,” Hunter said, holding a hand over his heart like my
words wounded him.

“Want
me to walk you home, Drunk Girl?” Guy asked and I was seconds
from agreeing because the bar was starting to spin. And I knew only
two things came after the spinning: throwing up or passing out.

“I'll
take her,” Hunter insisted, moving closer to me.

“Nuh-uh,”
I said, pointing a finger at him. “He cant take me. He stole my
cactus!”

Guy's
eyebrows went up as he looked at Hunter. “She's not wrong,”
he shrugged. “But it was mine first.”

“Alright,”
Guy said, holding a hand up. “You two seem to have some...
thing going on. I'll let you handle it. These shoes are new,”
he said, looking down. “I would prefer to keep them puke-free
for a week. Take care, Drunk Girl,” he said and walked toward
the back room.

I
spun back toward Hunter, slamming my hand down on the bar to keep
myself standing at the sudden motion. “Don't even think about
it,” I warned him, holding up a hand. “I am taking myself
home. You are not walking me.”

“Fine,”
he shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Fine,”
I said, storming toward the door.

“I'll
just walk behind you then,” he said, sounding positively
tickled at the idea.

There
was really no use fighting about it. I couldn't stop him from
following me. So I pushed outside, shaking once violently against the
rush of cold on my hot skin. I shook my head at sober me who thought
a coat would be too much of a hassle. Fuck her. Stupid, stupid
sober
me. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and hunched forward
against the wind.

The
puking idea was becoming more and more of a possibility with each
passing moment, my body shivering and making my already shaky insides
even more wobbly. I stopped, grabbing the metal pole of a stop sign
over the wave of unsteadiness.

“Fee,”
Hunter said, coming up close. “Here, put this on,” he
said, shrugging out of his leather jacket and trying to wrap it
around my shoulders. I twisted away and he sighed. “Come on,
baby. Your lips are turning blue.”

“I'm
not your baby,” I objected, my teeth chattering too much to
have the effect I intended. At his ever patient gaze I looked away
from him, but slipped my arms into the sleeves. It was so warm from
his skin that I felt my frozen skin tingle against it. And it smelled
like him: sawdust and soap. He reached for the zipper and pulled it
up until the collar popped and engulfed my neck in its warmth.