Page 68 of No Saint
I didn’t hang around to see his reaction beyond that. I spun on my skates and glided across the lot.
“He’s just using you, Jade!” he shouted after me. “You were always just a placeholder. Someone he could easily cheat on.” Even the anger couldn’t override old wounds. Those words picked, picked, picked away at that old, festering scab of self-doubt.
The words “charity case” and “gross” rang through my mind like one of my affirmations. Words that had come from Wolf’s own lips.
Eighteen
Wolf
Crickets chirped in the bushes beside the porch, silencing when I dropped the shoebox of penguins to the step. I lit a joint, took a seat, and stared out over the dark yard.
It had been a good five hours and fifteen minutes since I’d learned about PussyHunter69, and while I’d tried like hell to push it out of my mind, I couldn’t. I’d gone home, played God only knew how many hours ofAssassin’s Creed, and I still couldn’t get the thought of Jade possibly sending nudes to some random guy out of my head. Fucking Lonely Fans… I took a drag, letting the pungent taste of weed coat my throat. Jade was the kind of girl who wore baggy clothes to hide her figure—unless she was working at Roller Burger or pick-pocketing fuckfaces. And if she was willing to use her body to get money in that situation… I knew how desperate things could get when shit was tight but selling herself? The thought had a sick knot settling deep in my gut.
Jade’s Jeep turned onto the street, followed by Cassie’s Honda. They parked across from the house and both got out, yapping about something on their way across the front yard. Mygaze dropped to her bare legs in her red shorts, and I shook my head. I had no control when it came to that woman.
“Hey, Wolf,” Cassie said, stepping around me and onto the porch.
“Hey.”
Jade’s gaze met mine, but she said nothing before following her friend.
The door closed, and one of Dog’s high-pitched screeches drifted through the open window. TwinkleToes123’s welcoming committee… Even though I was bitter, I still found myself wondering if it would be wrong for me to sleep in bed with her again.
I put the joint to my lips, watching the wisps of smoke waft into the night. “Get your shit together, asshole,” I mumbled to myself. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, chasing a white rabbit who worked at Roller Burger and had Lonely Fans… Jade Anderson, with Lonely Fans. I couldn’t take it any longer.
The step creaked when I leaned to the side to fish my phone from my jeans pocket. I went straight to the app store, downloaded that stupid-fucking-site, then signed up with a random username: FeetFeetFeet.
My heart rate ticked up as I typed in TwinkleToes123. Usingmygoddamn nickname for this crap…
The profile picture that popped up was of feet. Feet with bright-pink toenails. The girl hardly ever painted her toenails, but when she did, it was always dark blue, shimmery black, blood red…not Barbie doll pink.
I stubbed out the joint on the step and swiped through the public photo album. All pictures of her feet on fluffy pillows. After I’d swiped to the last photo, an option to see more “Exclusive Twinkle Toes content” popped up.
I should have put down the phone, but the word exclusive could mean anything from her toes without toenail polish to hertits. And I was a glutton for punishment. I pulled my bank card from my wallet, put in my information, and paid the five bucks to view more albums. All footage of feet. One in bubbles, another in Jell-O. But to be honest, they could have been anyone’s feet. If not for the little pattern of freckles on her ankle that looked like the Cancer constellation—or so she’d told me—I wouldn’t have been able to say, definitely, that they were her feet.
Weird what people would pay for…
Headlights cut down the street. I grabbed the box and pushed off the steps, cramming my phone into my pocket as I crossed the dark yard. An old jalopy stopped at the curb, and the driver lowered the window. After a quick exchange of the box for a wad of cash, he drove off, and I headed back to the house.
More of Dog’s high-pitched screeches drifted through the open window.
The door clicked shut behind me just as Rogue’s high-pitch scream joined Dog’s.
“Jesus Christ…” I mumbled. When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, Rogue was crouched by the fridge, while Dog tried to squeeze his chubby, screaming ass between the appliance and the wall. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“I just saw a rat the size of a chihuahua scurry behind here.” He pushed to his feet while scratching his arm. “I’ll be happy when I see one of those fuckers in that trap. Look—” He held out his reddened arm. “I know this rash is because of them! My whole body itches.”
Footfalls descended the stairs. Seconds later, Jade rounded the corner.
My attention dropped from the empty glass in her hand to her tight tank top, then to her sleep shorts. Pink with llamas. The same ones she’d been wearing the first time I slept with her back in high school. The ones I’d peeled off her many times since.Clearing my throat, I redirected my focus to Dog, who was still trying to wedge himself behind the fridge.
“Why is Squishy so excited?” Jade asked.
“Because there’s a fucking rat!” Rogue shouted, still clawing at his arms like a crackhead.
“You know,” she said. “Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean youhaveto be eccentric.”
Rogue shot an offended glance at me, like I was responsible for what came out of her mouth. “Are you telling me that you’re okay with rats?”
