Page 80 of The Devil's Tattoo
Chapter19
Iwoketo someone hammering on myfrontdoor.
It seemed way too early for that kind of enthusiasm. Rolling over, the clock said it was twelve noon. The banging was still going on, so I shouted, “Fuck off!” and put a pillow overmyhead.
“Zoe?” I recognized Dee’s voice muffled through the material. “C’mon, open up. We’re worried sick about you.Zoe?” He was thumping again, and the dog across the way startedtobark.
Crawling out of bed with an enraged growl, I pulled on my dressing gown and yanked opened thefrontdoor.
“Thank fuck,” he said, pushing inside and throwing his armsaroundme.
“Get off me.” I shoved him away and walked back into the kitchen looking for something to take theedgeoff.
“Zoe, Pete told meabout…”
I turned around and glaredathim.
“I tried calling you, but you turned yourphoneoff.”
“Duh.”
“We’ve got the showtonight…”
“Duh, again.” Before Dee opened his mouth again, I said, “I know all about it. It will be uncomfortable because I want to punch the fuckwit in the face. I have an obligation to do the show. I’ll be there. Don’t worryaboutit.”
“Okay.”
“Just keep him the fuck awayfromme.”
“Zoe…”
“I don’t want to hear it, Dee. Ever. I can’t do it again. I’m done. I’msodone.”
He strode across the room, pulled me into his familiar arms, and despite my pent up rage, I sankintohim.
“Why does this always happen to me?” I asked, trying to fight back the tears I knew would come after Dee had left. “What didIdo?”
“You didn’t do anything,” he murmured. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful. You know that, Zoe? I wish I liked you that way. Then it would be a match made inheaven.”
“In your dreams,buddy.”
He laughed at my halfhearted attempt at a joke. “Can you imagine our kids? They would be Gods.” He pulled me down onto the couch and cradled me against his chest. “If it’s any consolation, I thumpedhimone.”
“Youpunchedhim?”
“No one hurts you while I’m around, Zo.Noone.”
Maybe it was childish for me to think it, but I hopedithurt.
“It’s just tonight,” he said, his voice calm. “Then you never have to see him again if that’s whatyouwant.”
I nodded, the tears I’d been trying to hold in since last night began to spill, staining Dee’s T-shirt.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Let it out. Remember last time? Holding it inisbad.”
I didn’t want to, but I remembered last time. I didn’t cry for weeks, and when I did, it almost sent me over the edge. The kind of edge you never come back from. A bottomless pit ofnothingness.
So I cried and cried, and Dee stayed with me until it was time to go face themusic.
