I could get back to my life and be the wiser for it.
Built-up resentment made me stop for a bottle of Jack, a big bag of jalapeño potato chips, and a few lottery scratch offs that were worthless except to remind me that betting on a one in a billion long shot was a stupid fucking thing to do.
On the way back to the motel, I picked up some Popeye’s chicken.
I got enough for Tug, although I still didn’t know how I was going to handle the situation.
I could ignore his little game. Go along. Pretend I didn’t know, drop him off at rehab, and let it be their problem.
I could slap the smirk off his smug face and remind him I wasn’t stupid.
My dilemma was lying in the bed where I’d left him, almost in the exact same position, when I got back. Like any addict, he had put off the inevitable, mortgaged his pain to the future. Would he now shy away from treatment, even after he’d been through so much?
Not my circus.
I ate some chicken and drank a little Jack.
Okay. A lot of Jack.
After a while, he sat up and rubbed sleep from his face.
“Hey, do I smell booze? Did you go out?”
I held the bag of food out. “I got some chicken for you if you want it.”
“Sounds good.” He barely got hold of the box before he’d wolfed down a chicken tender. “God, that’s so good.”
“There are biscuits and mashed potatoes and coleslaw on the table. Help yourself.”
“Thanks. I finally have an appetite.” He unwrapped a spork for himself and went to town.
“Be careful you don’t eat too fast. If the nausea comes back—”
“I think I’m past the worst. I hope so, anyway.” He opened a Gatorade he’d started earlier and took a healthy swig. “Withdrawal is totally fucked up, but it had to get better some time, right? I think getting some sleep really helped me.”
“I’m sure.” I let the anger inside me fester while I took another sip of whiskey. How should I play this? What should I do?
I wished then that I’d called Echo. She’d have given me advice as well as reminded me that I was not alone in letting an addict make an idiot out of me.
He eyed me skeptically. “Why are you drinking? Is this place getting to you?”
“Yup.” I could barely look at him. “I guess I’ve got cabin fever.”
“I know what you mean. It feels like we’ve been here for weeks instead of a couple days.” He came around and sat on the bed opposite the chair I’d made my refuge. “Something else going on?”
“Like what?” Fury might have heated my face, but that was involuntary. Since I dealt with demanding people all day long, I could hide my emotions if I had to.
“I don’t know.” With his grifter’s skills, I doubted I could fool him into thinking nothing had changed. “You just seem… different.”
“I miss my place.” I gave him a partial truth. “I feel cut off from my family and other people I normally hang out with on the weekends.”
He nodded, accepting my explanation for now. “You have a place of your own?”
“I do.” I pulled up a picture of my house on my phone. “It’s tiny. I had to gut it when I bought it, but it’s great now.”
“It’s got real charm.” He lowered his lashes. “Like its owner.”
“Right.”
He stared as if he hadn’t quite decided what he wanted from me yet.
That particular expression had never crossed his features when he was too dope sick to fend for himself. Now, I saw the way he measured every word. The way he watched how each thing he said landed with me.
“You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” He stood and gathered his jeans and a t-shirt. At the door to the bathroom, he leaned against the jamb. “You remind me so much of your mom and dad.”
He slipped inside the bathroom without waiting for me to say anything. When he came out, he had dressed. His still-bare feet were large and gawky. They stood out because they were big enough to hold up a man with way more meat on his bones than Tug had. He sat down across from me again. I had no doubt he’d taken the other two tablets and was waiting for them to hit.
His gaze softened. “Not many people have the kind of empathy you do.”
Translation: You’re a trick.
“You know what?” He crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands. “I used to have the biggest fucking crush on you.”
“Really?” I offered him the bottle, which obviously surprised him.
“You think it’s okay for me to drink?” he asked.
“No, probably not. I’m sorry, Tug. I sort of cracked and didn’t think about what you were going through.”
This was so wrong. I was a little drunk, and my pulse beat loudly in my ears. It felt like arousal, but it might have been rage. Somehow, I’d conflated the two. Before I knew it, I’d moved to sit next to him.
“You really had a crush on me? Tell me.”
He flushed. “You always had everything together.”
“Did I?” I leaned closer to him, just to see what he’d do.
“You were like, this super hipster college dude.” He tilted his head flirtatiously. “I always did like the nerds.”
“You saw me as a nerd?”
“Of course. But in a good way.” He held my gaze. “I used to count the days until you brought your slouch-beanie-wearing ass home. You stank of weed. Want to know a secret?”
“What’s that?” As fury warred with attraction inside me, I realized it might not be the best idea to tempt fate.
“I wasn’t nearly as bad at math as I made out.”
“Oh, wow.” That little faker. “You minx.”
He grinned. “Sorry, not sorry.”
“I guess that’s a compliment, huh?” I whispered the words in his ear. He didn’t pull away.
“You bet. Do all the kiddies at the library have the hots for you? You’ve got this sexy librarian vibe going, like you take off your glasses and become a stripper.”
“Oh, sure. That’s me all right.” At that, I took off my glasses and laid them on the nightstand. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Why, Miss Jones, you’re beautiful.’”
He laughed just a little too loudly. Maybe it occurred to him he’d lost control of the situation. I moved toward him until my lips were a breath away from his. His tongue darted out and gave his full lower lip a swipe.
If I hadn’t been so goddamned angry, I might have responded to the invitation and kissed him. As it was, I had something else in mind.
“You know what I would really love right now? It’s a total guilty pleasure, but what the fuck, right?”
“Right…” He barely spoke the word. “What?”
“I would kill for a cigarette.” I met his gaze. “It’s been forever since I smoked one. Can I bum one of yours?”
That got me a very satisfying widening of his eyes and some stammered excuse about getting the wrong cigarette pack, taking his new friend’s empty pack instead of the full one, or maybe she scammed him, isn’t that hilarious. Hahahaha.
I tuned him out. “Set an alarm and be ready to leave at seven.”