CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
We stare at each other, him still angry, and me both worried and embarrassed to be caught listening in. “Yes, I heard all of it.” I figure I might as well just be up-front about the fact that I eavesdropped.
“Oh.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’d rather not.” He looks like he’s annoyed at me now, but I’m not going to let that sway me.
“I know you’d rather not, and I get the fact that we’ve got a really good thing going on right now between us and you don’t want to bring the mood down; but you know, that man sounded like an angry person who still wants to be in your life for some reason, and I’m in your life right now too, so . . .” I look around the apartment and shrug.
Sam looks like he’s deflating from the inside as his shoulders sag and his head drops. His beard is resting against his bare chest.
“Please don’t be sad or angry with me. I don’t mean to be pushy. I’m just worried about my safety.”
He holds his hand up to stop me. “I get it. Just give me a minute.” He turns around and goes into his bedroom and shuts the door.
I stand in the hallway for a few seconds and then turn around and go back to the kitchen, my heart heavy with worry and disappointment. It’s like he doesn’t care about me in the least, and I would have thought, after what we’ve been through over the last day or so together, that I deserved some kind of thoughtful emotion from the man. I’m not asking for the guy to pledge his love to me, but come on . . . something? Anything?
I keep myself busy by cleaning up the rest of the mess we left behind with our lunch a couple hours ago. The monotonous task and the small amount of time it takes me to complete it helps to put things into perspective. Considering all that Sam has been through today, it’s pretty amazing that he’s doing as well as he is. I need to give him the time necessary to get his stuff straightened out, and that’s probably going to take a while; one day isn’t going to cut it. But I’m also not going to stay here tonight if I don’t feel safe. I can get a hotel, no problem. I can be supportive from a distance. The idea of being apart from him makes me sad, though.
The bedroom door opens, and he comes out with a fresh shirt on and his hair combed. He sits down at the table and points to the chair opposite him. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll explain everything.”
My heart leaps with happiness. “Great.” I quickly go to the kitchen and grab two glasses of water and bring them back with me, setting them down between us before I take a chair. “I’m all ears,” I say with a smile. I push a glass of water toward him. We had a lot of sex and he needs to hydrate.
“Drake is Madison’s dealer. And, apparently, she was into him for about twenty grand.”
“Twenty grand? That’s a lot of drugs, right?” My eyebrows are up in my hairline. No wonder she passed away from an overdose. It’s not like I know the going rates for heroin, but for a woman who’s an out-of-work musician, it seems like an awful lot of money for way too many drugs.
“Yeah. I think she was dealing, too.”
“Oh, damn. That sucks big-time.”
“Yeah, it’s bad. And, apparently, Drake seems to think that Madison’s debt didn’t die with her . . . that it’s now my job to pay him back.”
“That’s wrong. How did he come up with that rule?”
“Drake doesn’t give anybody any free rides, even the dead. He knows we share Sadie together, so in his mind, that means I share Madison’s mistakes, too.”
“What are you going to do?”
“There’s not a lot I can do. I don’t have twenty grand, and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t give it to a drug dealer. I just need to stay out of his way until he gives up looking for me.”
“Does this mean you’ll be going back to New York?”
He shrugs. “I don’t really have a choice, do I? I promised to come out and do some work with the band. I signed a contract. I assume I’m still going unless you think I shouldn’t.”
“No, of course you should go. And Sadie too.” I have to work to hide my excitement about him being in New York with me again. The fact that Sadie will be there too is something I’m going to disregard for now, because it complicates things, and life is already complicated enough. “Does Drake know where you live?” I ask.
“I moved here recently. As far as I know, he doesn’t know about it, but he has friends in high places, so I wouldn’t put it past him to figure it out eventually.”
Panic hits me. I stand. “We need to go. We need to check into a hotel or something.”
He takes my hand and gestures for me to sit down. “He’s not going to do anything right now. He believes he’s put the fear in me, and now he assumes I’m going to be busy looking around for some money. If he comes in here and messes with me now, he won’t get anything but heat from the cops. We’re in no danger.”
“We should call the police, though.”
He nods. “I will. And I have before. The problem is, they don’t bother with Madison’s problems anymore, and according to them, Drake is her problem. Last time she went missing, they wouldn’t even go looking for her. She was a junkie, and junkies don’t rate very high on their list.”
“Oh, that’s really sad.” I slowly sit down, and for the first time, I kind of understand the defeat Sam felt toward her. When even the cops don’t care, it probably feels completely hopeless.
Sam taps the table a few times with his fingertips. “Anyway, Drake is a bad dude, and he throws a lot of threats around, but he’s also busy. He has a pretty big operation that needs constant attention. Madison was just one of many issues he deals with regularly. What I mean is, I’m not top priority for him right now; we have time to get things done. Why don’t we just wrap things up here and then we’ll head out?”
“Where are we going?”
“To get Sadie.”
“I thought you wanted to do that alone.”
He reaches over and strokes the back of my hand, making me feel like a crazy chicken needing calming. “I did. But that was before.”
“And now something has changed?” I sound like I’m fishing for compliments, but I need to understand what’s happening in his head. I don’t want to assume anything. Is he saying he wants me to be with him because he likes my company or because there’s a danger in staying in this apartment?
“I think I would feel better if you were with me.” He looks up. “But if that’s too much to ask, just tell me. I’ve been leaning on you a lot, and I don’t know if that’s really fair of me to keep doing that.”
“Lean on me all you need to. That’s why I’m here.”
It doesn’t matter what his motivations are. I can support him however he needs me to, and I can also decide to leave this place whenever it suits me. If I feel threatened or unsafe, I’ll go; it’s that simple. And right now, his explanation makes sense and I don’t feel the extreme urge to find other accommodations, so I stand.
He looks up at me. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to go shower and brush my teeth and hair so we can head out.”
He nods, staring at me but saying nothing.
“A nickel for your thoughts,” I say.
His smile is sad. “I was thinking how I just met you yesterday, but it feels like a lifetime ago. It’s crazy.”
“I know. It is.” I lean over and kiss him gently on the lips. “I’ll be ready to go in twenty minutes, tops.”
As I’m walking away he calls out, “Have I mentioned how cool it is that you’re so low-maintenance?”
I spin around to see if he’s joking, but he’s wearing a serious expression.
“No,” I say, frowning, “and I’m trying to decide if I should be offended by that.”
He shakes his head. “No, don’t be. I’m used to hanging around chicks who take two hours to get ready. It’s nice not having to do that with you.”
I slowly turn back and head toward his bedroom, feeling both complimented and gawky. I think my sister was right; I should’ve gone clothes shopping while I was in New York. Sam said he likes that it only takes me ten minutes to get ready, but how could he possibly mean that? No man on the planet wants to be with a woman who wears the same four outfits all month long, who doesn’t wear makeup, and who styles her hair simply by brushing it. What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I make more of an effort? I sigh as I stare at my reflection in the mirror above his dresser.
I will get another chance to shop if I want it. If we pick up Sadie today and the funeral goes through like it’s supposed to in two days, I’ll be back in Manhattan for another week. That’s plenty of time to upgrade my look just a notch or two. The idea makes me happy. Just because I live with a bunch of hippies and regularly muck out horse stalls, it doesn’t mean I have to look like a farmhand all the time.
The more I think about it, the more I’m actually liking the idea of a new me. I can hardly believe it, but it feels like I’ve already changed in some fundamental way since leaving the farm. Yes, it’s only been two days since I temporarily put my life in my rearview mirror, but clearly a lot can happen in forty-eight hours. Heck . . . I’m in Los Angeles of all places! I think a lot of this sensation I’m experiencing has to do with Sam. I’ve never been so open with someone I’ve just met, and I’ve definitely never felt this energized or excited by a man before. For the first time in my life I’ve been bold, decisive, and unafraid. Well . . . mostly unafraid. At least I haven’t let my fear get the better of me, and that’s a big improvement. It’s like a miracle or something.
Imagining myself back in the apartment in New York with both Sam and Sadie kind of blows my mind. It occupies all my thoughts as I shower, change into clean clothes, brush my teeth, and fix my hair. The apartment isn’t really a great place for a little girl. There’s so much trouble she could get into, so many breakables and no toys at all. Will Sam and Sadie stay there, or will they go somewhere else? Is he still going to work for the band? Maybe he’ll decide he has to stay here or go somewhere totally different to avoid that Drake guy.
I haven’t asked him any of these questions yet, and now I’m burning to get the answers. And I really need to talk to my sister. I hope she calls me back soon.