Page 16 of Creed

She can play hard to get all she wants, but we both know at the end of the day I’m the man she belongs to. She’s always been mine. I just need to remind her.

“So, what are you going to do?” Tyrant asks.

“About what?”

“Lottie, the little hottie with a body.” He chuckles as I glare at him.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, man. This could be your chance to have something good.”

“You gonna make love to that joint or smoke it?” Ghoul asks, grabbing it from me.

“You’re one to talk. Way you string that Tonya chick along every time you roll into town.”

“I’m just looking for a good time. Nothing long term like you sad sacks of shit.” He takes a hard toke and gets choked up on the intake of smoke.

“Right. Guess that’s why you hit her up first thing every time you roll into town.”

He shrugs. “She’s a sure thing.”

“So is Kitty.” I remind him. Not that I need to.

“Whatever.” He passes me the blunt.

I take a hit and ask out of curiosity. “What was the deal with that Rage fucker? Is Tonya his woman or something?”

“Dude is a fucking whacko. Get this. They were married for five years, and she finally gets pregnant and partway through the pregnancy they find out their baby has a disability. This asshole leaves her high and dry and claims there’s no way the kid is his. That he’d never father a kid with special needs. Signed his rights away when she went after child support. Says the DNA test was rigged.”

“Next time I see him, I’ll kick his ass for free,” I grumble. “Fuck that guy.”

“Answer me something. How do you know Tonya’s friend?”

“Long story.”

Tyrant grins. “She’s his stepsister.”

“Former,” I clarify.

“Hell, that explains a lot,” Ghouls says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your type. Nearly every bitch you get all into looks like her.”

“No, they don’t.” I snuff the bud out and fold my arms across my chest.

“Did I ruffle your feathers, bro?” he chuckles. “Think about it. You’ve been hung up on that girl from West Virginia. She’s like a carbon copy of Lottie. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Banging curves. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I’d like to prove him wrong and pull up Ember’s social media profile to show him, but looking at her picture, there’s no denying it. I have a type. Lottie. I’ve spent the past ten years looking for her in every woman I’ve been with. Chasing the ghost of her. Trying to find what I lost.

She was the first and only girl I’ve ever loved. We were both young and made mistakes, me most of all.

Shit. I’ve gotta prove to her that this time around, I’m going to do things right.

Show her I’m not some loser that can’t provide for her. I make damn good money doing what I do. I can give her the good life I promised. I shoot off a text to our contractor asking what it’d take to finish my build before Halloween. I need my own place. I sure as fuck don’t want to bring Lottie back here, where everyone will be watching us like their favorite reality show now that everyone has heard our shared history.

“Breaking news,” the reporter’s voice blares from the tv by the bar. “A jogger who was found dead in the park has been identified. Local businessman Lonnie Kovack was an avid jogger, and authorities have ruled his death an accident. Officials say his family is devastated and want to remind everyone about taking proper safety precautions. They say what happened to Lonnie was a freak accident. It is believed he tripped on wet leaves and hit his head on a rock, of all things.”

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