After work, I'm a mess. I run around town, desperate for something that'll take the edge off. I go back and forth between wanting to pay Billy a visit in the liquor store and even wind up outside his door. My breathing turns into puffy, white clouds as I contemplate my actions. I've made it this fucking far. Am I really going to toss that all out the window because of him?
I decide against it, walk off without direction until I'm outside a club I used to go to. Someone's sweeping the last remnants of the night before away, and I recognize her instantly, her flaming red hair a beacon of light in the grey alley.
"Vic, hi!" I walk over and she smiles at me, strands of hair falling from the bun on top of her hair, her smile bright and eyes tired.
"Bella? Wow, that's been a while! You look good, girl. How's it goin'?" Her thick accent feels like a warm hug and slap in the face at the same time. It's how my mother used to talk.
"I'm good, just got off work." I smile and motion to my hotel uniform. There's no way I would wear those dirty clothes from yesterday, ever again.
"Can't wait to get this over with either. Almost done," she wipes her brow, even though it's freezing outside and she's in a thin tank top.
"How's James?" I ask her. She shrugs.
"Haven't seen him in about a week. Guess he'll turn up once his stash is all up in smoke — literally."
"Hmm."
"What brings you here? Thought you lived further from here."
"Work's nearby and felt like taking a little walk after."
"Really?" Victoria's green eyes peer at me, a smirk playing at her lips.
"That, and I wanted to see you again." I shrugged.
"Changed your mind, have you?"
"Not about you two, but I did change it about the grass. I'm trying to stay off the hard stuff for now. Can you sell me some?" I bat my lashes at Victoria, knowing she's got a thing for me. She even tried to convince me of having a threeway with her and James — which I felt flattered for but said 'no' to anyway. I wasn't into James, at all.
"Aw, and here I was thinking you came for me." She pretends to be hurt but cackles right after.
"Just wait here, I'll grab my bag."
When Victoria returns with a canvas tote bag, I hand her the money and she gives me two blunts. I know from experience it's the good stuff. The pre-rolled joints are thick, and I know she's always generous with the amount of weed she puts in there.
"Don't be a stranger, Bella."
I go home and empty my pockets. I've taken Masen's knife, I plan on keeping it until he fesses up he's my fucking killer while he acts like he's my fucking lover. I can't shake the feeling, the betrayal even though it's my fault to begin with. If I didn't write that message, transfer that money, I wouldn't be in this situation. There would be no Masen in my life, and perhaps I'd even be dead by now. I'm a fool for spending my inheritance money on a hitman, but I was high and not thinking straight — obviously. I stuff the elaborately decorated blade between my pillows in the bed and go take a shower to wash Masen off my body after I put the rolled blunts in my pack of cigarettes on the table.
When I'm halfway through getting dressed and replying to Rosalie's text message, the bell rings. It's strange to hear it, since no one ever visits. I'm in a shirt and the first undies I can find and press the intercom. My heart hammers in my chest as I hear his smooth, dark, delectable voice.
He's here.