Chapter 11

Katrina awoke to find herself staring at fading flowery print wallpaper. She stretched, yawning, before remembering where she was. Sitting up with a smile, she took in her surroundings. The room was small and dingy, with only the old queen sized bed, a small nightstand with some candles on it, and an ancient looking wardrobe as its only furnishings.

She remembered that this was Vincent's room and vaguely remembered him carrying her up there. What she couldn't remember was whether or not he had stayed there too. From the looks of things, she didn't think so. Looking out the window, Katrina realized it had to be late afternoon. She hopped out of bed, wincing as a splinter from the wooden floor stuck into her foot. After pulling it out, she went downstairs to find some breakfast.

"Good morning sunshine!" she heard Bo call from the kitchen.

Walking in, Katrina began to laugh as she saw Bo standing at the stove, trying to juggle smoking a cigarette with frying some sort of meat in a pan and keeping a hold onto a makeshift leash that was attached to Vera. The girl had a look of complete despair on her face as she knelt by Bo's feet.

"Good morning Bo-Bo," Katrina said, walking over to peck his cheek. "What the hell are you cooking?"

He grinned at her. "Just some shit Lester brought over. Probably some coon."

"Gross." Katrina sat down at the kitchen table, being sure to step on Vera's fingers in the process. The girl cried out in pain.

"Now Kitty Kat, be nice to the little bitch. Can't you see she's havin' a rough mornin'?"

Katrina shrugged. "I'll try, really I will," she answered in a tone that promised the opposite. "Where's Vincent?"

"Down in his workshop. He had to finish with the fat bitch."

"I wanted to watch."

"Well you needed sleep more, darlin'. You look terrible."

She sighed, remembering she probably was black and blue all over. "I forgot about all that."

"You forgot about all that fun we had?" Bo asked, raising an eyebrow mockingly.

"Well after all that alcohol . . ."

"And that great weed . . ."

"I'm surprised I remember anything."

Bo laughed. "You passed out the moment we got into the truck."

She waved a hand at him languidly. "I'm not normally such a lightweight."

"Whatever. All women are. Can't drink to save their lives."

Katrina stuck her tongue out at him. "Whatever yourself. So are you going into town today or what?"

"Well . . . for all you said you needed, clothes and all that shit, we'll have to go into Silverton. That's about an hour's drive from here."

"Where do you usually go?"

"Woodston. It's got a police station, fire station, hospital, gas station, and a general store. Mostly old fuckers that live there. They all go to Silverton for their other shoppin'."

"There's not even a Wal-Mart or something?"

"One of those get everything in one place stores? Nope."

"What stores do they have?"

"Do I look like I go shoppin' often, darlin'?" Bo asked in amusement.

Katrina laughed at this. "All right, all right. Anyway, I want to go see Vincent. But first, I want something to eat that's not roadkill. Then I want to take a shower." She gave him a stern glare. "Please tell me you have shampoo."

"You must think we're damn big rednecks."

"No. You're just men. Men don't usually use shampoo."

Bo rolled his eyes. "You're tellin' me that men you know don't wash their hair?"

"They use regular soap, I guess. Unless they're a metro."

"What in God's fucking name is a metero?"

"Me-tro. A metro sexual. Men who take care of themselves like they're gay, you know . . . they use shampoo and conditioner and get facials and manicures. But they're not gay."

Bo burst into laughter, laughing so hard he began smacking his thigh with the spatula he was holding. "What the fuck? You're serious?"

She nodded. "Dead serious. That guy Victor was one." She leaned over to look under the table at Vera. "Wasn't he, sweetums?"

He turned to look at her seriously. "And you were screwin' him?"

"No. I killed him because he tried to rape me."

Bo pursed his lips. "And what are your intentions with my brother?"

Katrina looked him straight in the eye. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, darlin', that Vincent isn't exactly the most intelligent fucker when it comes to women. Never got out much when he was at that age, you know?"

She looked down at her hands. "You think I'm teasing him."

"What the fuck do you call it?"

"I like him."

"Don't fuck with me. He's a fucking deformed freak."

Katrina glared at him angrily. "He's not! I wish you'd stop telling him that shit! It's not fucking right, Bo!"

"Don't tell me what . . ."

"I will tell you!" she shouted, standing up so quickly her chair flipped over backwards. "You need to leave him the fuck alone!" Her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth as she stared at his angry expression. To her surprise, he grinned and went back to poking at the meat with his spatula.

"So you do like him. Don't break his heart, Kitty Kat, or I'll break every bone in that tiny little body of yours." He glanced back at her. "You're mighty hot when you get all riled up like that."

"You ass."