Page 28 of Road to Ruin
CHAPTER EIGHT
NIKITA
Of all the crazy, reckless, thoughtless things I could have done, sleeping with Tommy Kendrick probably tops the charts. Fuck me, what was I thinking? I take a moment to really think about that as I march down the long, narrow corridor toward my office, my purse clutched tightly under my arm. His prison file is in there, thick as a telephone directory. When Harry on security checked my bag, he simply moved the file around as he peered into the very bottom of the purse, presumably looking for drugs or weapons. He undoubtedly has no idea that I’m not supposed to take inmate files home with me at all. By the time I fish my keys out of my pocket and open up my office door, I’ve had a good amount of time to decide why I instigated what went down last night.
1) Seeing Alex made me angry. And nervous. And scared. I needed some kind of contact with another human being to remind myself that I’m still me. It took a long time to persuade myself of that fact back in the day, after I left him. I felt like I’d become someone else during those last few months we were together. Someone I didn’t like very much at all. I felt like I needed to act out, to do something crazy, and sleeping with Tommy was certainly that.
2) Tommy Kendrick is hot as fuck. There’s no denying it. There’s no sugarcoating the facts. He’s tall, he’s broad, and he’s handsome. His eyes are like molten pools of liquid gold and chocolate mixed together. He’s huge, which made me feel safe in a way I resented but was also reassuring. And his tattoos. I mean, come on. They’re everywhere, and they’re sexy as hell. You take one look at a guy like that and you know immediately that he’s good in bed. You just know he’s going to take care of you in the very best way.
3) Tommy Kendrick is SERIOUSLY hot as fuck. It really does need saying twice. Hot. As. Fuck.
I take Tommy’s file from my purse and slot it back into place inside the tall filing cabinet beside my desk, relieved to have it back where it should be.
“I know what you’ve been up to,” a voice behind me says. My heart seizes in my chest, an awful weightless falling sensation pulling at my stomach. I spin around and Mitch is standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, arms folded firmly across his chest. He does not look happy.
“I’m sorry?” I say, my cheeks flushing. I probably look guilty as sin, especially with my hand still in the filing cabinet.
“I said I know what you’ve been up to, Nikita. And I think you’re crazy. What did I tell you last night? Do not go to the fights. Do not go. So what did you do?”
Oh. He doesn’t know about the file. That’s a relief. But then… “How do you know I went to the fights?” I ask, suspicion coloring my voice.
Mitch looks at me for a moment as if he’s staring straight through me. “I went by your place,” he admits. “I called you but I wasn’t getting an answer, so I thought…”
“You thought you’d drive to my house in the middle of the night?”
“I know, I know. It was late. I shouldn’t have been checking in on you. I know you, though, Nikki. You sounded so distracted on the phone. I knew you weren’t going to listen to me. When you weren’t at your place, I made some phone calls. I heard all about the entrance you made. I also heard that it looked like you and Alex Bastien used to be an item. Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”
I have to physically bite my tongue and count to three. Then five. Then ten. “Because who I used to date when I was still in high school has absolutely nothing to do with you, Mitch. And neither do my evening activities. Look, I know you’re only trying to look out for me, but—”
“I’m not trying to ‘look out’ for you. I’m…fuck! I thought there was something between us. I thought you and I were eventually going to…y’know… And then I hear that you’re Alexander Bastien’s first love, and that you ended up leaving with Tommy fucking Kendrick, of all people, and, well…”
“It made you crazy? You must be crazy to be saying this to me right now. We’re friends, Mitch. Really great friends. Nothing more. You say you know me. If you really do know me, then you’ll know I don’t play games. If I wanted to date you, or be romantically involved with you in any way, don’t you think I would have said something by now?” It doesn’t feel great to be so cut and dried, to cut to the quick with him, but this has gotten out of hand. He needs to understand that I’m not his property. He can’t just come barging in here, demanding answers from me about my past. I don’t owe him anything.
The expression on his face is a hard, unhappy one. “I see,” he says, his voice clipped. “Well, I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to. Honestly, I just thought…” He looks over my shoulder, eyes fixed and locked on the wall. “I don’t suppose it matters what I thought. I was obviously wrong. I’m sorry. Just forget I ever said anything.” He turns around and makes to leave.
“Mitch?”
When he turns back around, I see the clear, red spots in his cheeks, either from embarrassment or anger, I’m not sure which. “Yeah?”
“I mean it. I really do consider you a great friend. Please don’t be pissed at me.”
His mouth pulls into a very unconvincing smile. “I’m not pissed at you,” he says quietly. “I’m just disappointed that things aren’t different.”
******
The day drags like nobody’s business. I’m distracted. I can’t seem to focus in any of my sessions, and the guys know it. One of them asks me if I’ll blow him, apparently to see if I’m actually listening to him or not. Another asks if I need a hit of something to help get me through the day. It’s really amazing how drug dealers will find a way to be drug dealers even when they’re behind bars. I tell Warden Hennery, and the C.O.s find a number of baggies containing high-grade cocaine taped to the underside of his cot. Perhaps the most obvious hiding place there is in a place like this. Mitch comes by at three, when he knows I take a break, and tosses one of the baggies to me, smirking.
“Unbelievable bastard,” he says, laughing. He’s in a much better mood than he was this morning. He’s obviously trying to make sure I know that everything is okay between us now. I catch the baggie out of the air, a matter of instinct. I don’t do coke, but I know a lot about street value given the people I counsel on a day-to-day basis. There must be about five thousand dollars’ worth of blow in the bag I’m holding in my hand.
“Damn,” I say, holding it up to get a better look.
“That’s one of four,” Mitch says. “God knows how he got it in here. Probably one of the fresh faces from last week had it up their ass or something.”
“Gross.” I drop the bag onto my desk, grimacing at it.
“Don’t worry. They washed the packaging after the mule shit it out. Probably.”
“Probably. Wow. So reassuring.”
He laughs. “Yeah, well. You never know with these guys. Hey, are you going to O’Halloran’s tonight? I’m heading home early but I’ll be dropping by later for a beer if you feel like it?”
His change of mood really is remarkable. He’s overcompensating like crazy, I can see that he’s still uncomfortable from the look in his eyes, but he’s trying. He’s really trying not to make a big deal out of the words that were exchanged between us this morning, and I appreciate it. “Sure. I can do that. Just one or two, though. I have some things I have to take care of at home.”
Mitch shrugs, smiling. “Sure. No worries. I’ll catch you around six or so.”
He leaves, whistling expertly as he disappears off down the corridor. It’s at least twenty minutes later, long after he’s vanished that I realize the baggie of coke is still sitting on my desk.
