Page 68 of Existential
THIRTY
Dagne
I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different. I stare down at the phone in my lap, my legs folded as I lean back into the sofa. The receptionist must be the same one I got last time; she didn’t even try to put the call through before giving me some bullshit excuse on why Mom wasn’t there. “Perhaps you should try her at home?” she’d kindly offered.
I would if I knew where that was now, let alone what the number is.
She’s unlisted other than her name appearing on her work’s website. At least I’ve got some idea where she lives, given it can’t be any more than a one hour radius from her office. But that’s still a big area filled with lots of houses, plenty of apartments, and the kind of motivation required that I don’t possess yet.
I only want to talk, to clear the air. I’m not asking for friendship, just a truce. Is it really such a stretch to put this to rest?
“Thought you mustn’t have that anymore.” I look up and catch Digits gesturing with his chin to my phone. “Figured you’d lost it since you never answered me.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Nope. Just been busy.”
“Bein’ a housekeeper’s asshole?” he asks with more snark than necessary. “Yeah, whatever.”
“What do you want?” I glance around at the rest of the room, desperately searching for somebody, anybody who might be watching what’s going on.
Nothing. It’s as though I’m invisible, even when I’m sitting smack dab in the center of the room.
“Bit ungrateful, don’t you think?” Digits asks, slipping onto the sofa beside me despite the fact there isn’t enough room for him to do so. “I help you out, and you cut me off like this?”
“I don’t know what you expected.” I aim for nonchalant and naïve as I shimmy away. “I thought it was best if I laid low after everything that happened.”
“Cut the shit, Dagne. Everyone knows that the cops were never lookin’ for you.” His eyes rove the length of me the same as a farmer assessing livestock for sale. “What you been doin’ up here?”
“Waiting.”
His eye twitches, yet he schools his expression, forcing a smile. “I missed you.”
“We don’t know each other.”
“Didn’t stop you from gettin’ on the back of my bike.”
What the hell do I say to that? No, it didn’t stop me from accepting his offer of help, but what else is he expecting me to admit to? That I purposefully used him? That I’m an opportunistic bitch?
“I’m sorry if you feel like I didn’t thank you for what you did,” I say, trying to appease his ego. “I really am grateful for your help.”
He shrugs, sliding an arm along the back of the sofa behind me. “Still time.”
I lean forward. “For what?” The crawling sensation over my flesh tells me I don’t want to know.
“To make things right. Come back to Fort Worth with me.”
“Thank you, but no.” I inch away, yet he slams a heavy hand on my thigh, pulling me back with a painfully tight grip. “You’re hurting me.”
“Yeah? Well maybe you feel an ounce of what you’ve put me through these last few weeks?”
Abort, abort. “I should go che—”
“Ain’t nothing you need to be doin’ but packing your shit to take with you. I leave in the morning.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Yeah?” His hand slips higher. “Why? You stayin’ here because you think there’s somethin’ between you and my pres?” His eyes lose that boyish charm which suckered me in at the start of all this, and grow dark, promising the worst kinds of sins. “Bet if he asked you to head south you’d have your slut-pack ready to go in no time.”
I’ve got nothing, because I would. I’d go anywhere Hooch asked me to.