Page 20 of Doll Face

“Why?”

“He’s got some inhalers for Macy.”

“Inhalers?”

“Yeah, she’s got asthma. Doc said he’d get her some samples, but I plan on buying her meds as soon as I know what they are.”

“Now that is true love,” Rocco mused. “Instead of flowers, “here honey, I got you a bouquet of medication.””

“Fuck off.”

Rocco laughed.

Chapter Seven

The arcade that evening was pretty dead, and Macy was relieved. Her chest had felt tight all night so it helped not having anything exciting going on. Stress wasn’t good for someone dealing with an eosinophilic asthma attack. She was only glad that she wasn’t spitting up sputum because that shit was gross.

When the arcade closed, Tommy asked if she wanted a ride home. She was about to say yes when she spotted Matteo leaning against his car, watching her. Clearly waiting for her to get off work.

“Looks like I have a ride,” she told Tommy.

He looked out the window, frowning. “Who is that?”

“He is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.” She grinned and gave a little kiss on Reynard’s cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

“Same bat time, same bat channel,” he said absently.

Macy hurried outside and rushed up to Matteo. “Hi.”

He smiled down at her. “Hi. Want a lift?”

“Sure,” she replied and hurried around to the passenger side. Seconds later, he started up the engine, the low rumble sounding like a dragon. “Why shouldn’t you write with a broken pencil?”

He grinned. “Why?”

“Because it’s pointless.”

He chuckled as he pulled onto the freeway. “I love your jokes.”

“Really? No one else seems to. Even my best friend, Tommy, just rolls his eyes.”

He reached over and took hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers. “No one else matters. Especially not this Tommy guy. Am I gonna have to battle for your heart?”

She rolled her eyes. “Goof. And no, he’s just a friend.”

“I can be a jealous son-of-a-bitch.”

Macy squeezed his hand. “Not about this. Believe me.”

They drove in silence, but it was a comfortable companionship. All too soon, she realized he was driving right toward her apartment complex. If one could call it that. There wasn’t any security or even a front gate. It had been pulled off the hinges so long ago, the bolts were rusted. Paint peeled down the walls like a banana shedding skin. The area stunk of urine and marijuana, and half the feces lying everywhere was probably human.

“How do you know where I live?” she asked.

“I made it my business to find out,” he replied.

She narrowed her gaze. “Did you run a background check on me?”

“I’d say that you’re probably ninety-nine-point nine percent right.” He eyed the run-down neighborhood. “If I park my car, do you think it’ll still be here when I come back out?”

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