Very Wicked Things

He stuck out his tongue, flashing his stud.

“And you’re wearing eyeliner. Billy Idol as I live and breathe,” I said.

He stared humming a bar from White Wedding, and some of the weirdness between us melted away.

“Get in,” he said, “and I’ll sing the rest of it.”

I tossed my dance bag in his car and crawled in from the cold.

“Now, tell me what stick’s been up your arse all week,” he said, pulling out of the BA parking lot.

I sent him a glare. Seriously? He was the one who’d avoided me.

And maybe I should have kept my mouth shut right then. Maybe I should have lied to him like I had Cuba.

But I was exhausted.

And honestly—and this was completely irrational—I wanted his damn attention.

You asked for it, buddy.

“Long story short, I gotta sell these eight-balls, but I can’t because I’m afraid I’ll make someone an addict or kill them if they overdose, or I could go to prison or hold that thought…I could go to prison.”

His eyes flared. He cursed, threw on the brakes, and we slid on the slick pavement, fishtailing and narrowly missing a guard rail. I clutched my seat as he finally gained control and pulled into an I Hop parking lot. I waited for him to detonate. Five, four, three, two…

“What the bloody hell are you on about?” he yelled, slamming the car in park. “This has to be a joke because you would not be that daft.”

I snapped. “You have no idea what’s been going on with me because you’ve had your face stuck up whoever you’re screwing this month. So just stop. You’re still mad at me because I—I don’t know what’s going on between us.” I totally did.

He sighed, his anger evaporating. “Shit. I had no idea you were in trouble, Dovey.”

I picked at the zipper on my gym bag.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

I took a breath. “Sarah owes money to the wrong people. To pay them back, they want me to get a foothold in selling coke to BA kids for them. I have to sell it by tomorrow or pay what she borrowed.”

“How much?” he asked, the talk of drugs and loan sharks not really surprising him like I thought it would.

I dug my teeth into my bottom lip. “Stop, Spider. I won’t let you help me.”

“What? I have money. You think I can’t do without for you?”

I shook my head. “No, I know you would, but I don’t want you involved with my problems. These are dangerous people.”

He shrugged. “I have five thousand in my account right now. It’s yours. I can live on my credit card the rest of the month.”

Oh, Spider. He meant it, I could tell, and maybe paying down the debt might work with a regular loan shark—and how weird is that phrase—but with Alexander, it wasn’t entirely about the money. He wanted an in at BA. And my instincts said he wanted to test me, his own daughter.

“It’s not enough,” I said. “He wants the full amount.”

His hand went to my nape, softly rubbing, and I scooted over and lay my head on his chest, inhaling his expensive cologne. I sighed heavily, feeling emotional.

“It’s worth a shot,” he said. “I can go to the bank tomorrow, and it might hold them off for a bit.” He paused. “Or, I can sell the drugs for you?”

I pulled back so I could see his face. “That is the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I said, trying to be funny, “but, I can’t drag you down. What if you went to prison? This is my problem, my mess.”

“Let me help,” he said, his fingers kneading my shoulders and massaging. I groaned at his touch. I’d missed him.

Would five thousand hold Alexander off?

“If—if you’re absolutely sure, I’ll take the money. I promise to pay you back as soon as we sell our house.” Add him to the list.

“I don’t care if you ever pay me back, Dovey.” He tipped my chin up and gazed into my eyes, and I blinked. Whoa.

He continued. “My bank opens at ten. I can grab the cash and then meet you at your house? We can pay them together.”

“I’ll take the cash, but you are not coming with me,” I said emphatically, feeling panicky. “This is all on me, okay? And I’m not changing my mind, so leave it be.”

He didn’t look happy. “Fine,” he muttered and pulled back out into the main road.

I stared out the window as we headed to the center of town, feeling off-kilter, needing some semblance of normal.

“What’s on the agenda tonight? Am I keeping you from a date?” I asked.

“No. I want you to give us a chance, Dovey.”

This already? “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well.

He flicked his eyes at me. “You and me, we click. You know I’m crazy, and you still like me, and I know my accent gets you hot.”

I popped him in the arm, and he laughed.

“Ouch. Why you’d do that?”

“Because we’re friends and anything else would ruin in.” I made my voice light.

“What are you afraid of with us, Dovey?”

“Is this a stipulation on your loan?” I said. “You wanna pay me for a date? Like a whore?”

His nose flared. “I’m not an arsehole, Dovey. And if you really believe that, then you’re a bitch. ”

Yeah.

“All I want is a chance. We’ve been faffing around the possibility, so don’t deny you haven’t thought about it.”