Page 81 of No Romeo
LOLA
It had been three weeks since I lost Sid. I hadn’t spoken to him in person since. Of all the things Hendrix could have done to me, that was the worst. Maybe I could have fixed Sid, stitched him back together, but I didn’t want to.
Hendrix had severed more than just Sid’s neck, and I’d thrown away more than just his broken body.
I was done. I’d even tried to find somewhere else to live, but it was the same as before. Crackheads and perverts.
Every Friday night, Hendrix sent me a text.You might not want to be here tonight.Then I’d disappear to steal cars for Willy, go to Kyle’s, and get drunk enough to convince myself I didn’t care what faceless girl Hendrix had fucked.
Saturday night, I’d come home and text him:You might not want to be here tonight, right before inviting Kyle or Chad over to hang out. Sometimes both of them.
I was right back where I was two years ago, without Hendrix. But instead of crying into scratchy sheets at a foster home, I now cried barely ten feet from the very boy I tried so hard to hate.
The low glow of my bedside lamp caught in Chad’s blond hair when he rested against my headboard, clutching his bag of peanuts in one hand and his cards in the other. “Tens?”
“Go Fish,” I said, pinching a handful of nuts from his bag.
“Stealing my foodandbeating me.”
“I always beat you. Queens.”
He chucked a card down on the comforter with a huff.
The bang of the front door closing echoed up the stairs, and Chad sat bolt upright. “What was that?”
Voices drifted through the house, Hendrix’s distinct. He was breaking our unspoken rules of “you might not want to be here tonight.” I didn’t come back on Friday nights; he stayed out on Saturdays. That was how it had worked since he’d done the unthinkable.
“Hendrix, I guess.” I tried to play it cool even though my heart pounded in my chest. I could just picture him punching Chad in the face. But no, he wouldn’t do that because he didn’t care.
“I swear, if he tries to kick my ass, I will out myself from this closet so fast.”
I laughed.
“I’m serious. These muscles are for show. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
Hendrix could think whatever he wanted to think, and if that just so happened to be that I was as over him as he was me, then fine. “He doesn’t care, Chad,” I said.
“Yeah, right. I saw Ethan’s face. Hendrix Hunt is insane.”
I didn’t want to hear his stupid name because he had killed Sid and us.
Footfalls thudded up the stairs, a familiar voice drifting closer. “Is that girl here?” Zepp. Shit, Hendrix had texted me a couple of days ago telling me his brother was getting out this week, but he hadn’t elaborated with an exact day. I’d totally forgotten.
“Who’s that?” Chad whispered.
“Zepp. Hendrix’s brother. He just got out of jail.”
“What inthehell, Lola–”
Then the worst possible thing happened. One of them knocked on my bedroom door. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“One minute,” I called, jumping off the bed.
I hadn’t seen Zepp since I had taken a crap on Hendrix–as far as they were both concerned, at least. Zepp was the big brother I’d never had, and I couldn’t handle his disappointment.
Stressed, I fanned my face before getting up and walking to the door.
“What are you doing, Lola?” Chad whisper-shouted as I grasped the doorknob. “Don’t open it! I don’t want to have to defend myself against a guy from prison.”
