Page 20 of That Girl is Trouble

Predictably, she smiles back. Christ. Women fucking love Tex, and he loves women. All shapes and sizes and colours. Don’t matter if they’re married or have kids or if they’ve been passed around the club a few dozen times. The man doesn’t give a fuck. Pussy is pussy, he says, and he’d fucking drown in it if he could.

“Funfetti is always a safe choice.”

“I’m told that’s too cheery.”

“Okay, uh, what’s she like?”

Tex chuckles. “Moody, mouthy. A lot of fuckin’ attitude.”

“Temperamental,” Preacher adds. “A little mean.”

She tilts her head. “And you… like this person?”

“Up until she started putting kale on my pizza. Now I’m not so sure,” Tex says, curling a strand of the woman’s blond hair around his finger. “What’s your name, babe?”

“Anna,” she says, her face flushing. “Devil’s food is good. It’s a really rich chocolate, and—”

“Sounds sinful,” Tex says, pressing closer. “What time’s your break?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, that’ll be fine. Need it tonight though, yeah?”

She nods and then pelts me with a series of questions about what colour we want the icing and what kind of filling and whether there should be sprinkles. And what colour sprinkles? And what do I want written on it? And how big should the cake be? I respond with whatever looks good, and I don’t care, and yes, and I don’t care what colour, and Happy Birthday, Kitty, and whatever will feed a dozen grown men and maybe throw in a bunch of those cupcakes you got in the front there.

“Thanks,” I say as she hands me my change.

She nods, but her eyes are on Tex. “Um, I’m going on break in a few,” she says to him, the flush of her face deepening. “If… um…”

Grinning, Tex waves us off and props himself up against the counter again. “Got any whipped cream back there, babe?”

Preacher snorts, and as we push through the exit, he flips the sign hanging on the door to Closed.

* * *

The yelling starts shortly after five.

A door slams. Heavy footfalls sound from the stairwell. Another yell. Another slam. More angry footsteps.

Letting out a huff of irritation, I stalk to my apartment door, ready to do some yelling of my own, but I hesitate, hand on the doorknob, when I hear Kat’s angry voice.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she snaps.

“None of your damn business.”

“Just answer my fucking question, Jesse.”

“You seriously want to fuckin’ do this right now?”

“When else would I do this? You’ve been in bed all goddamn day.”

“Let it go, Kat,” he snarls.

“Let it go?” Her pitch gets higher, her voice angrier, her rage filling up the stairwell so thoroughly it presses against me where I stand on the other side of my door. “Did you or did you not fuck that stupid Hazel bitch? Because if you did—”

“I said fucking drop it!”

“That where you were last weekend? Because my sister beat the hell out of that stupid Sinner Slut last night for running her mouth. If I find out the shit she was talking is true, it will be your goddamn face I drag all over the fucking pavement. You don’t put your dick in anyone but me.”

Jesse scoffs. “You think I’d sink so low that I’d fuck around with a bitch like Hazel Kellett?”

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