AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m a realist,” I say simply. “And I don’t want to spend the last week I have money pretending to care about the bank.”
“Well then maybe you should spend it trying to figure out what the hell you’re going to do on Monday,” Liz scoffs halfheartedly, plopping down on the edge of the couch and looking out the window. She’s twisting a bit of the couch in her fingers and thinking hard on something, probably the Alencars or maybe Paul.
But her words are nudging at me. Okay, it’s not like I haven’t given my newfound freedom any thought at all, but Monday does seem a lot closer than it did yesterday.
“I’ll be fine,” I say aloud.
“I’m sure,” Liz says, but there’s zero emotion in her voice.
“I’m serious,” I say.
“Me too.”
“No, you’re not.”
Liz sighs and finally looks at me. “What do you want me to say, Rhett? That I believe in you? Do you actually care?”
“No, but I want you to believe it anyway.”
Liz pauses, thinks carefully, and says, “Look, this is probably going to come out pretty harsh, but if I were you, I’d really be trying to get this deal to work. Because I don’t think you’d last a week without your mother’s money.”
I don’t really care what Liz thinks of me. So then why the hell does that hurt so much to hear? I clamp my jaw and stand up, grabbing my coat. I was tired, but now I just feel like walking for a bit, maybe grabbing a drink.
“Rhett,” Liz starts. “Look—”
“It’s fine,” I say shortly.
“I—”
“I asked for your honesty.” It’s not your fault I’m a fuckup. I pull my coat on, grab a room key and leave before she can say much else.
What’s the plan here, Rhett? What are you going to do with yourself? Too old for the military now. No skills, really. Just riding motorcycles that are all about to get repossessed. I suppose I could go be a mechanic, changing spark plugs and oil for bitching customers all day making minimum wage in return for a bad back and a smoking habit. I suppose it’s no better than what most people get up to. Then again, most people don’t throw away their golden ticket. Most people don’t have a dad looking down and shaking his head about the legacy his stupid kid messed up.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIZ
I call Anna the moment Rhett storms out of the room.
“Hello?” she answers, sounding like she’s one massaged muscle away from reaching complete nirvana. It’s moments like these that I wish Cole had a twin brother who could have swept me away to Peruvian paradise too.
“I’m dying,” I deadpan.
“What?!”
“Not literally. But if I have to spend another single minute with Rhett, I actually might.”
Anna laughs, incorrectly assuming that I’m joking. “Okay, first be well aware that should the worst happen, I’ll take the appropriate steps of avengement. But before that, you need to take a step back and fill me in.”
I flop down on the couch, ready to rant. But I stop before I even begin. God, the couch already smells like his stupid hair gel. Or cologne or aftershave or whatever he bastes himself in every morning so that that piney, smoky scent constantly seeps from his pores.
“You still there?” Anna asks.
I scowl and press one hand over my eyes. “Yeah, I’m here. Rhett is just making me act even crazier than usual.”
I proceed to launch into a detailed (and expletive-laden) account of everything that’s happened since Rhett and I left New York: from our constant bickering to the broken window incident to — sigh — our mutual spooning in the shack.
Anna doesn’t say much throughout beyond an occasional question, but on that last bit, she’s unable to hold herself together.
