Raw (41 page)

Not quite sure what the problem is, I ask quietly, “Why are you angry?”

Blinking at me, he extends an arm out my way and booms, “Again with the labels! Always with the fucking labels! Is it
that
important to you, Lex? Being labelled as something everyone else sees as normal?”

I want to say no. I want to defend myself. I want to go to sleep, pretend I never said a thing, and wake up when this argument is over.

Not sure how to answer, I remain silent, but one look at my face and Twitch smirks darkly. “Of course it is.” Stalking towards me, he asks along the way, “Let me ask you this? How would you label
me
?” My heart begins to race and I swallow hard. His eyes flash, “Psychotic? Hmm? I don’t know, maybe
insane
? Mad? You tell me, Lexi. What the fuck would you label me as?”

Terrifying. Disturbed. And frightening.

Gritting his teeth, he catches my chin in his hand. “You label yourself all you want, Alexa.” Dropping his hand, he looks at me a moment, and what I see displayed on his face makes me want to throw up.

Disappointment. He’s disappointed in me.

Turning, he picks up his tee from the sofa and opens the front door. Pausing a moment and keeping his back to me, he says lividly, “Do
not
fucking label
me
.” His fists ball by his sides as he extends his parting words. “Think on this, girl.” Spinning around, his eyes – full of fury – meet mine. “Who were you before people started telling you who you should be?”

And then he’s gone.

My office door opens, and Michael strolls in. Making himself comfortable in the guest chair, he puts his feet on the desk. I snap my fingers in warning. The feet come down.

That’s better.

He sighs, “Give me something to do, boss. I’m bored.”

I sniff, “Bored? Here? Get Happy to give you something to do. Or Li—” on second thought, “Not Ling.”

After working with me for over a month now, Michael’s fear of me has dimmed to almost nothing at all.

Almost.

I think he sees me more of a big brother now. Which is cool by me. I always wanted a brother. And if I had a brother in this life, I’d want him to be like Michael. It became clear to me weeks ago that Michael was smarter than even I’d given him credit for. When he approached my office one morning and asked straight out, “Are you a drug dealer?”

I stared him down. Much to my surprise, he didn’t shrink back. Not even an inch. I was impressed. I answered, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

He scoffed, “So that’s a fancy way of saying yes.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “I could do drops, you know? I’ve done ‘em before when I worked for Hamid. I know the ins and outs, so I wouldn’t get busted. I wouldn’t disappoint you.”

“You never do, Mickey, but no. That’s not happening. I don’t need any more runners. You’re here because you’re working legit.”

He muttered, “Like you can talk.”

I smirked. He sure got my number down.

Turning to the boy, I ask, “What’s up?”

He grumbled, “Nothing.” If the boy wanted to tell me, he would. So I let it go. As soon as I start typing again, he blurts out, “There’s this girl.”

Of course there is. There’s always a girl. “You seeing this sparrow?”

Shaking his head, he utters, “No. I don’t want to ask her out ‘til I’ve got myself sorted.”

“You look pretty sorted to me, youngin. Got a job, going to school, earning some cash, and doing that all while looking for a place to stay when you turn eighteen.” I raise a brow at him. “I’d say you’re good to go.”

He smiles softly. “Yeah.” Then a firmer, “Yeah, I guess so.” I watch him closely. I see the courage bloom in his eyes and fight my own smile. “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna ask her out.”

My lip twitches and I nod at him in approval.

Suddenly, he turns to me. “How exactly do I do that?”

I laugh on the inside.

The kid is toast.

The door to my office bursts open. “I’m gonna ask her out!”

Looking up, I see Michael looking snazzy in black slacks and a white shirt, with his sleeves rolled up and wearing black thin suspenders. He looks so much like Twitch, it’s scary. Minus the tattoos and all.

Narrowing my eyes, I point at his choice of ensemble. He looks down at himself and mutters, “Mr. T said to dress nice.”

Why does this not surprise me?

I mutter to myself, “Of course he did.” Quickly finishing my paragraph, I look up at him and grin. “You look so handsome. Like a mini-Twitch.” He rolls his eyes and I fight the urge to laugh. “Who are you going to ask out, sweetie?”

“Tahlia.”

Oh
wow
!
 

My heart swells.

I’m so giddy at the thought of Michael and Tahlia together. Both came from a less-than-stellar upbringing. They would totally get each other. And I know for a fact that Tahlia has a crush on Michael. When I called her last to check on her, she asked about him about three times.

Eyes wide, I lean over my desk a little and mock whisper, “Oh-em-gee! That’s so exciting! How are you going to ask?”

His smile falters. “I-I was just going to ask. Mr. T said to be up front, but not in her face. Just ask, but not give her an option to say no.”

I want to crow with laughter. He went to
Twitch
for dating advice? Oh dear God. I have to fix this. And quick.

Quelling down the insane urge to cackle, I start, “Honey, no. If you don’t ask her right, it could ruin the whole experience.” His eyes widen in fear, and I sigh, “Where do you plan on taking her?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. The movies or some sh- place.”

I groan, then whine, “
Michael
! You have to have the date planned beforehand so you can give her the details when she says yes.”

His brows rise. “She’ll say yes?”

I nod and smile softly, “She’ll say yes.”

Suddenly serious, he sits on the edge of my desk and says, “Okay. Cool. I want to take her somewhere nice. Mr. T already said I can have use of the company driver. I want to take her somewhere fancy.”

Ugh. No.

“Mickey, Tahlia isn’t the type of girl who wants to go somewhere fancy. A fancy place would just make her feel awkward and would make it look like you’re trying too hard. Tahlia would like somewhere homey.” I shrug. “Say, an Italian restaurant.” My brain pings and my eyes widen in excitement. “I know just the place! Hold on.”

Grabbing my cell, I quickly type a message.

Me: I need the address for the Italian restaurant you took me to the other night.

The reply comes almost immediately. I’m surprised there’s no hostility showing, being that we ended our visit yesterday in a rather abrupt way.

Twitch: Already booked for the kid and his girl. I’ll give him the address when he gets in. Tell him to move his ass. He’s gonna be late for work.

Smiling like a loon, I fire back a response.

Me: You are so getting laid tonight. Love you x

Twitch: I get laid every night, Angel. x

He doesn’t lie. He does get laid every night.

I’ve all but been living with Twitch for a few weeks now. I’ve only been home to get clothes and check my mail. And whenever I bring clothes from home, he glares holes in my head for not using the closet he’s designated for me. But I keep telling him the closet is creepy!

“You’re all booked, sunshine. Twitch has the details. You’ll get them when you make it to work, which, by the way, you’re going to be late for,” I tell him as I glance at my watch.

Checking his own watch, he hisses, “Shit!” then shoots out of the door. Not a second later, he runs back and pants, “How do I ask her out?”

I tell him what I’d like to hear. “Tell her you’ve been waiting for the right time to ask and that you’ve wanted to for a long time but didn’t know how. Bring her flowers. Daisies, I think. She’ll say yes.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ms. Ballentine.”

I shrug. “You’re one of my kids. I’m going to lose you soon enough. I have to help where I can.”

He blinks at me a moment before dipping his chin. “I’ll always be your kid.”

Then he’s gone.

Leaving me a blubbering mess in my office.

You’re nobody ‘til somebody loves you.

At least that’s how I feel now that I have Lexi. I always thought I needed her because it’s what my mind told me I needed. Because my mind is broken in more ways than one, my interest in her turned into an obsession. Add in a hardcore drug addiction and you’re bound to have trouble. By that point, my mind had advised me that I didn’t just need Lexi, I needed to make her suffer for making me believe there would be a point in my life when things would get better for me…as long as I had her.

When I was eight, I had her. For one night. Fate is a cruel ass bitch, and that night changed everything for me.

I can make excuses.

I could say I was just a damaged kid that grew up to be a broken man.

I could.

But I won’t.

I don’t like labels. I won’t be defined by words like normal, unbalanced, or damaged. There’s so much more to me than words. I have layers, just like the next person, and if you picked me apart layer-by-layer, you’d find a blackened crust where my heart should be. But ever since Lexi came into my life, a thin bud of greenery sprouted there, giving me hope that even I could be the person who makes someone’s day better.