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They seem so fucking happy.
And it has nothing to do with me, so I don’t know what this hollow pit in my stomach is, and why an image of Jason flashes through my mind like a spark.
Nothing to do with me at all.
It also doesn’t explain why I pass every night by the street where I know Jason hangs out. Working. Picking up customers.
I wish I could say it doesn’t bother me. That I understand why. Why not do something, anything else for a living? Does he want this?
Shouldn’t he be trying harder to get out of that rut?
I know Ocean has talked to him about it. Jesse too. I sort of eavesdropped on a couple of their discussions, and I know they’re also wondering why he won’t take them up on their offers to help him get out.
It’s as if he doesn’t want to.
He’s a grown-up, I remind myself. What he does or doesn’t do is his own damn business. Certainly not mine.
And there’s no reason for me to drive around the block and roll through the street—his street—again. What am I doing? He isn’t here, which means he’s with a customer. Or at home. It’s just that…
That I haven’t seen him in the past couple of days. Here, I mean. When I drive by. Not that I came looking for him or anything.
Not that I expected a repeat of what happened last time.
Fuck, no.
I mean, so what if I did? I could pay again. Everyone else is.
No, no, Jesus. It’s not the first time I think about this, and it’s driving me crazy. I won’t be just a customer. Jason’s customer. A job.
Then what do you want? I ask myself, and predictably I get no answer.
I should just go home, eat something, get some sleep. It’s the stress of this upcoming event, I decide, that’s making me antsy.
And of course, right when I make the decision and turn around once more to head home, I see him.
He’s talking with a tall guy in a suit, or rather the guy is talking to him, and backing him into the brick wall of the building.
Jason shakes his head, shoves at the guy.
The guy doesn’t move.
Red mist descends over my vision. Without realizing, I find myself braking and stopping the pick-up, climbing out and marching over to them.
To him.
Jason doesn’t notice me until I’ve shoved the man to the side and out of my way. “No,” I say.
Jason blinks at me, and his face pales. “Raine?”
“No, you’re not going with him.”
Now his brows draw together and he glowers at me. “Really? Fuck you, Raine.”
“That’s the idea,” I mutter, and shove again at the guy who’s cursing at me. “You stay out of this.”
“I talked to him first!” the guy splutters. He’s tall with glasses and really bad taste in clothes. I mean, even I can tell. “You can’t just butt in.”
I ignore him, meet Jason’s glare. “I’ll pay, dammit. I’ll pay for one night with you. Tell me how much.”
