Page 60 of Pawn

I’m expecting Damien to say something when he pulls out of the driveway, but he doesn’t. When we drive right by his gate, I do instead, curiosity getting the better of me. “Where are we going?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. Not after that.”

“Excuse me?”

He turns up the radio to a Clash track, his headlights zooming down another street before we turn down a narrow path.

“Damien?” My voice hardly goes over the music as he pulls into a cemetery, grey tombstones in the distance. He parks his car, stopping the engine as he gives me his next demand. “Get out.”

Sixteen

Damien

Jo looks at me like I’m the one deep in the whiskey.

Like I’m the one who almost got her killed.

She doesn’t move, her droopy eyes narrow, so I say it again, “Get out.”

“No.” She folds her arms before she slurs, “Not until you tell me what we’re doing here.”

“Like you told me you were gonna get Jersey Shore wasted with Johnson? Like you told me you’re bailing on my event to get into a goddamn car accident?”

“We tapped the tree!” she protests, reeking of whiskey and pot.

Closing my eyes, my fists tight, I bang on the wheel. “Fine.” I get out of the car instead, my dress shoes landing in the gravel. It’s dark, the moon peeking out from a cloud is the only light around us, so I know Jo won’t be too far behind.

The sound of the car door closing confirms it when I get a few feet ahead.

“Damien!” she calls as I walk towards the stone path.

Taking glances over my shoulder to make sure she doesn’t stumble, I pass tombstones big and small. The smell of damp grass and earth blend with the sounds of an owl and our steps.

We keep going until we reach a small stone structure. Reaching into my wallet, I pull out a small key inside, pushing it into the lock on the wrought-iron and glass gate.

It opens and once I step inside, everything goes quiet.

“The fuck are we? This is a little creepy.” She stumbles into the small space. It’s the size of a large closet, encased in marble and gold, moonlight shining through a stained glass window.

“As a kid, I liked knowing I’d be chilling next to my mom someday.” Running my finger over her name engraved in the marble wall, Jo leans next to it, her eyes catching mine. Her brows knit before I reach into my jacket pocket for a joint.

She tips her chin to the marble wall I’m leaning on. “Is that blank space yours?”

I nod, roasting the tip of the joint in the lighter. When I glance up, Jo’s sloshed face looks beautiful. One side catching the moon, the other catching the flicker of the flame. I’ve been dreading this space since Dad died but with her here, it seems bearable. So bearable that it only confirms how I feel about her.

“That’s morbid,” she mutters before she locks eyes with me. There goes that punch to my gut. “Why’d you bring me here? Don’t we have enough death around us?”

Bingo. “So why the fuck did you get in that car with Johnson?”

Her mouth flattens before she sighs, taking the joint from my hand. She takes a long pull and hands it back, moving some hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t thinking. That doesn’t mean I wanna think about you dying.”

“That’s right, you weren’t thinking. How you feel now is how I felt when I saw that car go off the road. Those two minutes it took me to get to you were the longest two minutes of my life, Jo. I thought that was it!”

“You can’t blame me for leaving!”

“But I can blame you for making a stupid decision. Be smart, Rowland.”

“So is that why you’re being an asshole? I scared you?”

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