Page 86 of Dirty Roulette
“I asked you a million times if this was okay. You said yes, you can’t sit here and change your mind three years later. This is why I will never be with you again. You’re angry I’m moving on, but you keep being a complete bitch. If you wanted me so badly, you wouldn’t be sleeping around with other guys, you wouldn’t be fighting with me constantly, and you certainly wouldn’t be falsely accusing me ofrape! At some point, you would have been able to communicate with me and express all of this.”
“You never listened to me!”
“I’m listening right now, but you can’t put your emotions first and not look at the reality of it. You keep trying to blame me for your actions. We are not good for each other, and we never were.”
“So, you really want to be with Trash?” She asks.
“The only trash I see is you...”
“Screw you!”
“I want her!” Like grains of sand in the ocean, the feelings are surfacing with the waves crashing in my chest. “I love Payton. I always have.”
She backs away from the Jeep’s driver’s side door, and I slam it shut, jamming the keys in the ignition. Brittni storms up, slamming a fiston the window. “I hope she rots in the dirt like everyone else in your damn family.”
The engine ignites and I flip her the finger. I put the car in drive, watching her take a step back as I spin the wheel and peel out.
Chapter thirty-one
Payton
Imarch down the hallway into the lounge. Sleepy Eyes pours shots, vaping, and vibing. His eyelids are heavy as I stumble up to him.
“Can I get some tequila?”
Smoke billows from his mouth. “You want me to mix you a drink?” He asks with that smooth voice, telling me he is high as a kite. For someone working here, he really doesn’t give a fuck.
“No, pour that shit in a cup.”
“Ice?”
“No, straight.”
“Cool beans.”
I’m pissed and feeling more stupid than usual. He doesn’t measure it, he just pours me half a glass of tequila without question, and I smack a ten-dollar bill on the counter. I lean against the wall, sipping on my demons.
Might as wellreap what I sow.
All I want to do is shoot bullets through my skull for never telling Charlie a damn thing. I dip my head in Brody’s direction, watching him stand two feet behind me. If they didn’t search me for weapons, I’d risk spending a lifetime in jail and stab him a million times over with the sharpest knife on the planet.
Brody leans on the bar. A sly smile is like a permanent scar on his face. “Can I get two cups with blue raspberry vodka and grape juice? One with ice, and another without. Also, can I have some sugar packets?”
“Yeah... whatever...” Sleepy Eyes says back.
He wiggles out a red cup from the plastic sleeve and pours Smirnoff mixing up the drink and hands them over before grabbing his vape, soaking in another hit.
Brody turns in my direction. “You want something?” He asks.
My nervous system short circuits and a shock wave claws to my fingertips. It’s like someone wrapped their hands around my neck because I can’t breathe when his eyes meet mine.
“No,” I say with a straight face, but my heartbeat rampages in my ears. I clutch the cup to my chest and turn my heel in the other direction and lean against a lonely wall, taking a long swig. The burn running down my esophagus is like a magical potion.
Brody stalks me and sets both drinks by the closet high round top table inches from me. “I can make you something better than a cup of Jose Cuervo,” he says in a fake nice tone, slapping several sugar packets next to his drinks.
“I’m not into douchebags.”
“Oh...” Brody tilts his head and smiles at me. “Well, I’m into lying virgins.”
