Page 8 of Dealing Dirty
I double-check Oscar’s food and water bowls before walking around my kitchen island and plopping down on the couch. Time to binge some reality TV and hopefully take my mind off seeing my friends tonight.
My plump cat jumps up and curls beside me, but as I raise the remote to the flatscreen, I’m startled by the woman staring back at me in the mirrored entertainment center. I lean forward, searching her face and gasping at her rat’s-nest hair and dark under-eye circles.
That can’t be me… can it?
For months, I’ve been keeping a low profile and avoiding as many people as I can, fully embracing the hermit lifestyle. I flick my gaze to my fingernails, free from their usual pop of color, before quickly tucking them under my legs.
There’s a pizza stain on my right thigh—wait, no, that’s spaghetti. I cringe. I haven’t washed my sweats in at least a week.
“Oscar, when did we order Giovanni’s?”
He meows his judgment, sniffing the spot before jumping down and scurrying away from me.
Right. Two weeks, then.
I’m baffled by how far out of touch with reality I’ve become.
“Relax,” I whisper to myself, warding off the fresh memories. But still, they come.
When Cassidy and I burned our ridiculous uniforms in the dumpster behind The Pound, I thought it would be this freeing moment of clarity. For some reason, pouring gasoline over those white polo shirts and bright pink aprons made me maddeningly giddy. It was somehow hilarious that we could be so easily duped by a man we’d trusted enough to let close to our families, who also happened to be the most powerful man in Mackville.
But then, as my best friend stared into that fire with tears streaming down her face, the true horror of it all began to leach my breath away. The sad truth of what she, Jack, and Ben had been through made me realize just how close we all were to not seeing another beautiful Texas sunrise.
Bruce is the last of his line with no wife or children to speak of. Cassidy and I were always like daughters to him, and knowing we were working for someone who had no qualms in hurting those closest to him has made it difficult to cope.
Even knowing that Ben sacrificed himself in an attempt to protect Jack and the rest of us doesn’t help. When I lie down at night, staring at my window, I feel as though I’m waiting for a bomb to go off. We’ve placed a mark on our backs, and Bruce is going to take whatever necessary measures he sees fit to hurt us and get what he wants.
Which is why my usual Saturday night’s out have morphed into movie marathons with my main man, Oscar. I’ve even traded sexy Mexican men for arguably sexier Mexican food, leaving all my dating app messages unread and unfulfilled.
My family and friends send me messages occasionally, making sure I’m alive, but for the most part, I’m left alone to the quiet security of my small apartment.
Then, there’s Cassidy. Of course, she’s made it her mission to force her way into my space. She’d come knocking on my door a couple of weeks ago after I’d forwarded several of her phone calls. The heifer waltzed in here, using the spare key I’d given her, and proceeded to give me an ultimatum.
Her blonde hair shone vibrant, as usual, and her green eyes were brimmed with concern. “You look like hell, Jules,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
I watched as she started to pick up wrappers and other trash before stomping to my room and returning with a laundry basket. She plopped my blankets and stray clothing inside.
“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn.
Cassidy’s never going to leave a person in need by themselves for long. She’ll prod her way around whoever and whatever is in her way, just to help.
It’s as endearing as it isannoying.
“Come work with me at the bar. I’ve already talked to Jack, and he’s more than happy to hire you.” She blew a few angelic strands out of her face.
My mouth gaped, letting little popcorn pieces fall into my lap.
“No,” I said instantly. Mostly because the idea of serving in a bar where sixty percent of the customers were ex-cons sounded terrible and had nothing to do with the fact that I’d be working with a certain tasty male temptation.
“Jules,” she pleaded while pushing a pile of romance novels out of the way, lifting a brow. She pulled me in for a hug. “We’re all frightened, okay? I know what happened with Bruce hurt you—it’s devastated me too—but at some point, we have to move on. You’ll be safer with us at The Pound.”
I know she’s been hurting the same way I’ve been, if not more—it’s just easier to get over this shit while being comforted by someone else.
It’s not that I blame her. I couldn’t be happier that she’s tamed her beast and they’re living out their happily ever after, but it’d sure be nice to have someone scare away my monsters, too.
“Fine,” I relented. “But only temporarily. Once we rid this town of Bruce and his cronies, I’m leaving Mackville.”
I’d choked on the sentence, knowing how hard it would be on her. I’ll probably never earn back my parents either, but now I understand why my siblings were always so desperate to leave. The only comfort this place can offer comes from a lady named Misery, and boy, does she love company.
