Dewey looks over at me then at the group smoking.
“Nah, that’s his best friend Bobby. Titan’s an officer. He used to be high up, but he crashed his bike ten years ago, so he’s been in a wheelchair ever since.” My eyes dart out the window as we pull out. Bella stands and smokes, laughing at something Bobby said.
“But her vest said property of Titan. I’m confused.”
Dewey starts to fidget, rubbing one hand on his dark jeans then the other. “Um… well Titan can’t, you know, anymore…” His eyes get big.
“So?” I snap.
“So, he lets Bobby take care of Bella.” I look over at him. His cheeks are pink.
“Wait, Titan let’s his best friend fuck his wife?”
“Yep, I mean he’s always there watching.”
“What?”
“Eve.” He grips the steering wheel tight. “It’s not unusual to share your woman with the… you know, guys.”
I open my mouth then close it. Pinching my nose, I say, “So that’s why you thought you could touch me? Because everyone has what? An orgy?” My voice is getting high-pitched.
He looks over at me and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Don’t get all fired up. Blade ain’t gonna share you.” He looks back at the road.
I cross my arms and have that weird tightening, aggravation, something I’ve never felt before. “So he’s shared his other girlfriends?”
Dewey grins and turns on the radio. KROQ blasts out of the speakers.
I reach over and try to figure out which one is the off button. “I asked you a question.”
He sighs. “Blade ain’t never had a steady girl before.”
I turn toward him, but the seat belt locks up. “I thought Crystal was his girlfriend.”
“Um… well you should ask Blade about—”
“Dewey,” I yell, causing him to flinch.
“No… she thinks she is but he has never been exclusive with her or anyone. Well, besides you.” I lean back, horrified and happy. I’m horrified that I’m happy. Jesus!
“Crystal sleeps with everyone. I guess she thought that would make Blade jealous.” He shrugs.
I look out the window and spy the golden arches. Grabbing Dewey’s arm, I say, “Oh my God… Thank God. I’m starving. Pull into Mickey D’s.”
“But Blade said…”
“I’m starving. You don’t want me to tell him you didn’t take care of me, do you?” I bat my lashes at him. He frowns, looking confused.
“Turn, Dewey.”
I actually have to make Dewey go in. Geez, you would think I was asking him to rob a bank or something with the way his dark eyes dart around.
When I’m on my second sausage biscuit, I notice Dewey staring at me.
Sighing I put down my biscuit and fold my hands in my lap. “What?”
“I have never seen a girl eat so much.” He says this like I’m a freak.
“Oh.” I shrug and dive back into my breakfast. “My metabolism is incredibly fast. I can eat anything.” I smile and he frowns. Poor Dewey. Guess I’m ruining all his fantasies about me.
“So, how’s your stomach? Is it healing okay?” I’m talking with my mouth full, so I slow down slightly.
He stiffens and looks around the air-conditioned McDonald’s. “Fine. Doc stitched me up. You ready to go?” He stands, shoulders slumped.
“Yeah.” I shove the last bite into my mouth and ball up the yellow paper to throw it away. I love McDonald’s. That greasy smell comforts a person. The brownish red tiles on the floor always remind me of happy times with my mom.
Shaking off any memories that might distract me, I blink as my eyes adjust to the sunny day. “Now, Dewey, when we get to the mall, I need you to follow my lead.” I wave my hand in front of his face as he beeps the truck open. “Hello… are you listening? I have a certain way I like to shop—”
“You talk too much and too fast for me,” he mumbles, and again there’s a little tug at my conscience.
Taking a breath, I jump in and sit back. “Don’t worry about anything.” I smile at him. “It will be super fast, in and out, and back to the compound.” No lie—I knew Dewey would be perfect for me. Meaning, he is tall and sweet-looking even with his cut. I pretend he needs sunglasses. We try on so many that I confuse the guy behind the counter. He doesn’t even notice when I slip the black mirrored Ray-Ban Aviators into my leather bag as Dewey continues to harass the guy for me. I actually pay for mine, so I don’t feel like a completely bad person.
I run inside Macy’s—they’re having a sale—and pull out about fifteen different bikinis to try on. Inevitably if you try enough on, you can always find one that has a broken alarm. A couple of nice hard slams on a plastic chair and the bulky plastic tag will usually fall off. Today must be my lucky day. When I pick up a metallic-gold bikini, the tag falls off on my first try. I take a breath and wait to see if anyone comments on the noise. All I hear are other people talking and trying on clothes. So I try on around five more, but my luck has run out and none budge. Whatever, the gold one will look fantastic with my hair and tan. I pick up a black one with pink cherries on it and smile. Jason will love it.