Page 82 of Something Tattered
I gave a bitter laugh. "Ormaybeyou're looking out for yourself."
"What'sthatsupposed to mean?"
I wasn't sure what I meant. But something was definitely off. I needed the chance to think. And besides, this wasn't the time to be discussing it.
Within the last minute or so, it had slowly dawned on me that I no longer heard the mower running, which meant that our argument could be interrupted at any moment.
Looking to end this now, I said, "Next time, save yourself a trip. Just give me the bad news over the phone." And with that, I took a long step backward, reached for the side of the door, and gave it a good strong swing.
It was supposed to slam shut. It didn't, thanks to Derek's foot, which stopped the door in mid-motion. He demanded, "What the hell is your problem?"
"At the moment?You'remy problem. Now, get your foot out of my doorway."
"Yourdoorway, huh?"
"Yes.Mydoorway.Ilive here. Not you." I glanced at his foot. "So are you gonna move that or not?"
"Oh, I'll move it. But first, I've got a question."
I made a sound of annoyance. "What?"
"What are you gonna pay him with?"
"Who?"
"The asshole mowing your lawn." Derek gave me a smug smile. "Because I can tell you one thing. We'renotpaying you for that."
My stomach clenched. Stupidly, I said, "For what?"
"For this week's lawn care. Do I need to remind you? The maintenance contract is non-transferrable, which means that if you hire it out, you don't get paid."
I wanted to scream in frustration. But I didn't. Instead, hoping to call his bluff, I gave him a smug smile right back. "Nice try. But I didn't 'hire' him to do it. He's doing it as a favor."
"A favor, huh? So whatareyou paying him with?" His lips formed a smirk. "Pussy?"
My skin flashed hot, and then just as quickly, turned ice-cold. The comment was so wrong – and so completely unlike the guy I'd grown up with – that I didn't know how to respond, unless I wanted to slap him silly, which was seriously tempting.
But then, a new voice – Joel's voice – sounded from somewhere nearby. "Speaking of pussy…"
Derek gave a little jump and turned toward the sound. A moment later, I spotted Joel, walking from around the side of the house. He wore no shirt, and was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration.
If this whole scene weren't so awful, I might've spent more time dwelling on the fact that he looked like every girl's fantasy – or maybe just my fantasy, last night, in fact.
His thick, dark hair was slightly damp, and the muscles of his shoulders and stomach looked even more defined than they had in my dreams. I felt myself swallow as I tried to focus on what was really important – the fact that this was a powder-keg waiting to explode.
Derek turned to glare at Joel. "Are you talking to me?"
Joel stepped closer. "You see anyotherpussies around here?"
"No. But I see an asshole."
I spoke up. "Derek, seriously. You need to go, likenow."
"Fine." He turned and gave me a stiff smile. "And you're welcome, by the way."
And you're not.
But I didn't say it, because I wanted him gone already.
