Page 72 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

“Takes one to know one,” I say lightly.

She laughs and lifts the extra shot. Together we down them both and though she tries, she, too, makes a face. I grin and then grab a beer from the ice bucket next to the liquor. “Sorry I’m a little late,” I say. “I wish I could’ve seen you in all your queenly glory—putting the little people in their place.” I chuckle at her earlier commentary.

“Yeah, was waiting on you, late bitch,” she replies, lying back against the seat of the couch. She watches me out of the corner of her eyes. “‘Cause I gotta bone to pick.”

I lift a brow. “Oh?”

A nearly empty bottle of beer dangles from her hand over the side of the couch. She lifts it up and puts the opening to her mouth, tipping the bottle until the rest of the liquid drains into her throat before she tosses it back. I turn my head, watching the glass fly towards the trash can in the corner of the lounge room. It hits the edge and then shatters on the floor, not making it inside.

She chuckles and without looking back, says, “Oops.”

I laugh with her, but once we’re all settled down, I eye her cautiously. “So, about that bone…” I hedge.

“I don’t have a boner,” she replies. “Unless you include Dean’s since his boner is mine. Then, I’ve got amassiveboner. Huge. Sometimes, I amaze myself with how well I’m able to take it.”

I snort. “No, you said you’ve got one to pick with me,” I remind her.

“Oh, yeah.” She huffs and reaches for the joint sitting in the ashtray. She grumbles at the dead end and fumbles around for a lighter until I give in and lean forward—snatching the one I see next to the tray and holding it up for her.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask as she leans into the flame and relights her joint, sucking in a lungful of the stuff until she breathes it out in a cloud of smoke.

Avalon doesn’t answer immediately, which is an answer in itself. I drop the lighter back onto the table as she smokes down the rest of the joint and then stabs it out in the tray. After a beat, she swings her legs down, sits up, and she plants her converse covered feet on the floor before reaching for another shot. “Yeah,” she finally admits. “I’m mad at you—but not…” She takes a breath and stares down into her shot. “I understand why you did what you did,” she continues before tipping the shot back and downing it.

“What I did?” I frown.

“Leaving.” She waves her empty shot glass at me. “Just like that. Poof. Gone. A lame ass note and that was it.” She pours another shot and this time, her face remains under control as she shoots it back and then lifts her gaze to mine. “I get it,” she repeats, “but that doesn’t mean I’m happy with it.”

“For what it’s worth,” I say, “I’m sorry, and I understand.”

“Do you?” she asks, arching a brow.

The music out in the main center of the club shifts from something fast paced to a more somber rock ballad. If it were a Friday or Saturday night it’d be unacceptable, but Thursdays aren’t nearly as fast-paced as the weekend. For now, it seems to set a mood between me and the girl across from me.

“Idounderstand,” I tell her. “I know what it’s like to comprehend something but not agree with it. Just because you get it, doesn’t make it any easier.”

Avalon nods. “I missed you.” Her words are quiet, almost a confession.

My chest clenches. “I missed you too.” It’s not a lie. I’ve only ever had two friends in my entire life. First Luc and then her. I missed her like fucking crazy, but I thought I was—IknewI was doing the right thing by her in keeping her away.

Silence stretches between us and it’s both convenient and awkward. I’m not sure where to drive this conversation as I take a sip from my beer. “I went back to Plexton after a while,” I confess. “Didn’t see you or your mom around so I hoped you’d moved on to a better life.” I chuckle and glance around. “I guess, in a way, you have.”

“She’s dead,” Avalon says.

I freeze and lift my eyes to meet hers. She stares back at me so intently. Anyone else confessing their parent’s death would incite condolences, apologies, or even sympathy. Not me. Not for her.

“Good,” I say.

Avalon nods as if she expected that answer. “I killed her myself,” she admits.

“Oh?” I sip my beer. “How’d you do it?”

She smiles and leans back against her seat. “Shot both of her knees out and then lit her on fire.”

I snort. “Brutal.”

“It was,” she agrees.

I wait a beat, then I ask what I really want to know. “Do you regret it?”

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