Page 44 of Vipers & Roses

His voice croons as if this conversation is going exactly how he envisioned it. “Thanks. And by the way, Rae, you’re fucking hot when you’re angry.”

“Shut up,” I snap. “And there was no sun in the courtyard. It was one hundred percent in the shade, so there was no dazzling of blond hair.”

“Still, your hair caught my eye, so I came to see you,” he explains. “Again, it was no coincidence.”

“You still haven’t explained why you haven’t contacted me for three days,” I snap, feeling my nostrils flare in a fury.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, giving me no reason or excuse.

“Fine,” I huff, turning my back on him to storm toward the front entrance where my car is parked.

“This is exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” he calls after me, and I look back in confusion. “See, you do like me, and that’s why you’re upset that I didn’t call. Feel free to admit it.”

“Fuck you,” I growl, turning my back on him to stroll away.

“See, I like this view,” his voice echoes through the open space, and I turn back to examine him again. He’s standing there like he owns the world, arms folded across his great chest, head tilted, and sky blues on me. “That ass.”

“Don’t stare, or I’ll find a pastime for those eyeballs of yours that includes a meat mincer,” I yell back.

“Sexy, dirty language,” he calls after me.

“What the hell has gotten into him?” I hiss angrily as I zip into the rose garden, so he can’t watch my ass moving, but the sprinklers are still on, and my clothes are getting wet.

21

“You need to get a bigger place,” Z states the obvious as she pulls out the blunt and then passes it to me. She has the beach chair to sit on while I’m leaning against the balcony railing, tomato plant leaves rubbing against my leg.

I take a drag and blow out the smoke, gazing out at the dark sky littered with traffic lights and lights from the apartments opposite us. “You say that every time you come over. How about reading from a different script,” I growl, placing the blunt between my lips and taking a pull, although I’m not feeling it.

“Someone is in a grumpy mood,” she sings, then coughs out smoke and sings again.

“I have man problems,” I confess, bending down to grab my wine glass from the balcony floor, half filled with my favorite Sav Blanc.

“Not enough man or too much man? Because I could see it being a problem either way for someone like yourself who is partial to a bit of cock,” she states mischievously while using her tongue to play with her lip ring.

I snort in laughter as a raspy dryness in my throat forces me to cough. “This is good shit,” I tell her, pointing to the blunt between my fingers.

“The best money can buy,” he says proudly. “And is one of these irresistible cocks you’re stressing over happen to be Blake?”

“I’m doing a great job restating them, actually,” I admit. “I’m too busy with work and class.”

“I knew it!” she blurts, and I startle in fright by her boisterous voice. “You’ve got a thing for Blake.”

“No,” I hit back, taking a long sip of my wine.

“He’s very charming, you know. Could turn a devout nun into a raging cocksucking hornbag in half a second.” How Z manages to say these things with a straight face is beyond me.

“You’ve said the word ‘cock’ three times in about two minutes. I’m starting to wonder whose team you’re batting for,” I tease.

“My own team. Anyway, are you going to tell me what your man problems are? So, I can start charging my consultation fee of three hundred dollars per hour.”

“Three hundred is reasonable, considering your experience in dealing with psychos ie. Smiler and Co. And maybe Blake is part of the Psycho Gang.”

“You voluntarily mentioned Blake again because you’re crushing on the crusher,” she says, spacing out on the blunt.

“He taught me how to shoot Glock, which is good,” I tell as I step inside to grab the packet of salt and vinegar potato crisps. Food is what we need now to steer away illness later on.

“That’s nice of him,” she says. Then I notice the picture above my dresser and panic.

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