Ink Exchange (Wicked Lovely 2)

She nodded, and he accelerated until he topped out the speedometer and delivered her to work remarkably early—and laughing.

CHAPTER 17

“Leslie? Leslie!” Sylvie waved her hand in front of Leslie’s face. “Damn. What are you smoking?”

“What?” Leslie tilted the glass of soda, pouring a little out so it wouldn’t spill. Thoughts of Niall, of her nightmares of Irial, of her promise to talk to Aislinn, of the weirdly costumed crowd, of the surreal encounter with Rabbit’s father, of her assault on the dealer at the house—they tangled and spun in her mind until she wasn’t sure of what had really happened at all. Did I break his arm?

“Get som

e sleep or something tonight. You’re a mess.” Sylvie made a disgusted sound. Then she pointed to the main room. “The couple in section three need their check. Now.”

“Right.” Leslie set the drinks on her tray and headed back into the din of the restaurant.

The rest of the shift passed in a blur. Leslie smiled and kept herself on autopilot. Bring the drink. Inane chitchat. Smile. Always remember to smile. Sound sincere. She was tired, exhausted really, but she got it done. Table by table, order by order, she got it done. That’s how life worked: just keep moving, and it’ll pass.

When her shift ended, she cashed out her tips and folded the money—my ink fund—into her pocket and made a mental note not to leave it out where her father or Ren could see it. She walked down Trestle Way, too tired to bother seeing who was out and about. I just want to crash. She’d gone a few blocks when she bumped into Ani and Tish.

“Leslie!” Ani squealed. She was terminally incapable of speaking at a reasonable volume. “Ohmygods, you look awful.”

Tish shoved her sister. “Tired. She meant you look tired. Right, Ani?”

“No. She looks, you know, like she needs to go relax.” Ani was unapologetic as always. “We’re going to the Crow’s Nest. You in?”

Leslie summoned up a smile. “I’m not sure I could walk that far tonight…. Hey, I met your father earlier. He’s nice.”

As they walked, Leslie filled them in on select details—omitting Gabriel’s giving her a ride to work and her own impossible violence. Leslie felt her knees go wobbly when they turned on Harper. Too tired for this. She drew a few breaths, stopped moving. Near her were several people cowering in terror, backs to the wall as if something horrid were leering at them. One wept, begging for mercy. Leslie couldn’t move.

“Just vagrants, Les. Bad drugs or something. Come on.” The sisters kept walking, propelling her along with them.

“No.” Leslie shook her head. It was something else. She tried to see it, sure something was there, like a shadow that lay atop the other shadows.

She started to walk toward the shadows, as if a string had found its way into the middle of her belly and she were being reeled in. A man was dancing manically on a stoop, which was weird enough, but he also seemed to be covered in thorns like shimmering green rose stems.

Ani looped an arm around Leslie’s waist. “Come on, sleepy girl. Let’s go play. You’ll catch your second wind once you get moving again.”

“Did you see him?” Leslie stumbled again.

Tish clapped her hands. “Oooh, wait until you see the new dartboards Keenan bought for the club. I heard that all his girlfriend said was that she wanted to try darts, and boom, there were three new boards the next day.”

“She’s not his girlfriend,” Leslie murmured, glancing back behind them at the doorway. The thorn man waved at her.

“Whatever.” Ani tugged Leslie forward. “There’s new boards.”

Leslie hadn’t been at the club more than a half hour when Mitchell—her loudmouthed ex—showed up. Not surprisingly, he was ripped.

“Lezzie, girl!” He gave her a cruel smile. “Where’s tonight’s toy? Or”—he lowered his voice—“do you just take care of that with battery power these days?”

His dumbass friends laughed.

“Back off, Mitchell,” she said. Dealing with him was never pleasant. After her mother had left, Leslie and Ren had both made some stupid choices, chasing a fix. Ren’s fix had cost Leslie a lot, but even before that, she’d made a few choices that’d cost her. She’d tried to forget where she was, how wrong things were. It made her do stupid things. Mitchell had been one of those stupid things.

From out of nowhere, Niall was there. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” Leslie turned to walk away from Mitchell, but he grabbed her arm. Unbidden, the image of the dealer crumpling to the ground with her hand on his wrist rose up. It would be wrong. She stared at Mitch’s hand on her skin. So? He’s wrong.

“Don’t touch Leslie,” Niall said. He didn’t move, but the tension in his body was obvious enough that people were backing away.

“Niall? It’s cool. I’ve got it.” She pulled her arm away from Mitchell, but when she turned around, Mitchell slapped her ass. His friends laughed again, but this time they sounded a little nervous.