Page 148 of Sinful Like Us
“He’s more concerned about you.” Akara passes back the whiskey. “Said to tell you not to be a dumbass or a jackass. But we both know it’s too late for that.” He steps out of his wet snow pants, sweats underneath, and the door to the laundry room creaks open wider.
My pulse thumps in my throat. If Tony just overheard us…
“Hey.”
I calm as soon as I see the chestnut hair and tattoos of Paul Donnelly.
“Any of you know how to sew?” He raises a sweater, and I recognize the orange and green stitching as Luna’s handiwork. One she knitted for him in exchange for a tattoo design. “I pulled out a thread and now there’s a hole.” He seems laidback about the whole ordeal.
“No,” Thatcher answers him.
Donnelly looks to me.
“Unfortunately, I can barely thread a needle. Luna and Beckett are the only ones I know who could fix it.”
His face saddens at the mention of Beckett, and then he nods to Akara. “Got any thrifty nifty skills, boss?”
Akara cracks a crooked smile. “Not at sewing.”
Donnelly throws up ahand gesture that meanslove, like he didn’t just meet bad news, and he struts out of the room, as unconcerned as he came.
Akara nods to Thatcher. “You’re relieved of your duties. With the sat-phone working, we don’t need to worry about emails.” He leaves, not giving Thatcher a chance to reply.
Their friendship is still on shaky ground, and I wish I could help, but their issues seem too deep and personal.
With Akara’s abrupt exit, the laundry room becomes eerily quiet, and then feet pound above us, dust billowing off ceiling rafters. Voices heighten in chaotic madness.
“Something’s wrong.” Thatcher finds his radio. Comms work only inside the house, and he fits in his earpiece.
I climb off the washer/dryer and pick up my purse. Readying. I wait for his response, my pulse gaining speed.
His eyes land on me. “Pipe burst.”
I wonder if this is an omen of what’s to come. Broken pipes, interpersonal fights, and all of us just trying to hang on…till March?
“We shouldn’t tell my brothers that we could be here for months.”
“Agreed.”
30
THATCHER MORETTI
3 Days Snowed-In
“‘Tellus if you’ve ever paid for sex.’” I read a lion-decaled card out loud and gnaw harder on a fucking toothpick. Which I’monlychewing because Tony keeps walking past the parlor. He thinks my brother is standing in for me with the Truth or Dare game.
Oscar and Farrow lean on the doorframe, deterring Tony from entering to bug the holy hell out of me. And the dwindling deck of cards is spread over a baby grand piano, where Jane and I stand close (but not too close).
Charlie sits at the piano and slides his fingers over the keys. “And?”
I focus back on the card. And the girl beside me. Jane perches her hands on her hips, sweater pink and fuzzy, and a 50s checkered scarf is tied around her neck.
I’d give her a Best Dressed award every day, every time. No contest.
She smiles up at me. “You first?”
Easy.“I’ve never paid for sex.”
