Page 47 of White Pawn
She snarls and glares at me like she’d like to snap my neck. “At least he’s read my book.” Her eyes are blazing now.
“I have—”
“Don’t even, Justin.”
“I—”
“Do I need to mention the nude photos that got posted all over the internet of all those nasty whores you fucked? Half of whom I have to see next weekend? Do not even go there, Justin. That is a fight you will not win; I assure you of that.” Her face is slowly growing red, her nostrils flaring.
“I told you, that wasbeforeyou.”
“Are you... ” She hops up from the couch, storms straight to the door, and opens it. “I mean, you won’t even commit to me, you know. Go fuck yourself.” And she slams the door so hard the picture beside it rattles. Cobain pops his head up from his bed, glances at the door then at me before settling back down with a huff.
“Girls are a fucking pain in the ass, Cobain. They are.” I grab my beer from the coffee table, tip it up, and sink one hand under the waist of my pants. Fuck Ed. He can kiss my ass.
I let two hours—two more episodes of “Breaking Bad”—slip past before I text her:I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose my GIRLFRIEND.
Sometimes you have to bite a fucking bullet.
