Page 31 of Call Out
“Nothing good came out of it,” I grit out, baring my teeth.
She sniffs, wiping her cheek with a fist. Then the pitiful, fragile waif morphs to the venomous woman I know all too well. “Stop being a dick, Danny,” she snaps back, prodding my chest. “You’re the one who fucked me after you killed him.”
My hand shoots up, and I grab her wrist. “Don’t push me, Zoe.” I drop her arm and back up. “It was six months later.”
She’s right. I’ve made two epic mistakes, killing my best friend and hooking up with his girlfriend when I was drowning in remorse and liquor. I’m not proud of my actions. She played on my grief and manipulated the guilt.
“Don’t say it was a mistake.” Zoe inches closer. “I need a damn beer. Your mom told me there’s Bud in the cooler. Let’s have a nightcap, now that you're back where you belong. Just like old times.”
Fuck the old times. I want new times—with Viv. Innocence wrapped in nylon kink. The sweetheart who makes happiness simple. I scrub a hand over my face. “Are you the one calling me and hanging up?”
“Maybe.” She flutters her lashes. “I realized it would be better to see you in the flesh rather than talk on the phone, to remind myself how good looking you are.”
I stiffen at her admission. “I’ve helped you deal with this shit for years, Zoe. I don’t live here anymore. Stop landing on my parents’ doorstep unannounced because I will not run home every time you show up—and stop fucking calling me.”
My phone beeps. Immediately, I visualize my beautiful Viv. I can’t speak to her right now. This mess needs an explanation face to face. I look at the screen where her name lights up. She’s sent me a picture. With Zoe sniffing around, I have no intention of opening the message for her to see. The last thing I want is Zoe talking to Viv. That thought chills me with hatred for the life I’ve been living.
I won’t bring Viv into this shit storm. I’ll be honest with her eventually, once I deal with Zoe’s psycho antics. Shutting off my phone, I stuff it back into my pocket.
“Who was that?” Zoe straightens her shoulders. “You have a goofy look on that handsome face of yours.”
“It was no one,” I lie, clenching my jaw. Viv is my refreshing lemon sherbet on a sticky warm day. Sweet and invigorating. Exactly what I need to get through life. Zoe, on the other hand, is poison, wilting my life with her poor decisions and toxic expectations.
“Do you still drive a motorcycle?” she asks, running a hand down my leather jacket.
My steely gaze catches hers. “You know I’ll never get in a car again.”
She steps closer, blinking up at me with bloodshot eyes. “Will you sit on the porch with me, Rocco? We can stay up late. I’d like to find out what you’re up to these days.” Her hands are on me. I have no desire to be with this woman or stay up chatting like the world is free from tangled webs. “C’mon, don’t act like we’re strangers. It’s me.” She bats her lashes with a flirty gesture.
I step back so her hands slide down, breaking away. She thinks the suggestion of sex will work on me this time. It hasn’t worked in years, and definitely not now that I’m into Viv.
“I’m tired, Zoe. Tomorrow you’re signing into rehab for the millionth time, and I’m going back to my job.”
She rolls her eyes with a hint of seething fury and disbelief. “Danny, don’t be so cold.” Her arms reach around her belly. I’ve been here before and fallen for her manipulative tactics. “You shouldn't have left. You belong here, with me,” she says sadly. “Not miles away in Sunnyville.”
“Bullshit, Zoe.” I glare at her, my patience slipping. “All you did was get fucked up and fight with me. Every fucking time. Then you’d blow the past up in my face. We had sex a handful of times, but mostly, I dropped you off at rehab. I’m done with this, Zoe. You can stay in the guest room tonight. Tomorrow is the last time I’ll be responsible for you.”
Ugh! That hideous noise.
My phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes. Sticking a handout from under the cover, I fumble fingers over the nightstand. A book. A lamp. A notepad. A foil wrapped condom. Hmm, that’s a fresh, yet naughty addition to my bedtime essentials. When my sex life ramped up a few notches, I bought the optimal amount. It’s better to be looking at them than looking for them. Through slitted eyes, I aim for the glowing light radiating from the screen.
Blossom Grove.
“Hello,” I mutter, hauling the sheet over my head because it’s still early. I’ve got another hour before my alarm goes off.
“Viv.” Dot’s voice is wobbly. “It’s Wini.” My brain goes fuzzy, and all the hairs on my neck lift when she snivels. “She… she… she’s dead.” The galloping pulse in my throat almost chokes me. Words freeze as the breath in my lungs turns ice cold. “I found her this morning. She looked so peaceful. Like she was sleeping.”
“Don’t…” I whisper. “Don’t…” My heartbeat grinds to a halt. I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale the words I’ve just heard.
“Viv, honey.” The way she calls me honey, to sooth and comfort like Wini would have, only punches my gut with regret. I should have been with her. “There was nothing any of us could’ve done.”
Stomach acid churns like fire. I’m hot, then cold. Scared, then crushed. Rolling to the side, I drag my knees into my belly and listen to Dot’s voice crack around pointless words of reassurance.
“Viv, honey. It will be okay.”
I try to reply but a hiccupped stammer breaks free instead. “She’s… gone?”
“Yes.”
