Page 34 of Kneeling for Them
“It’s not like that,” I say.“It’s for musical instruments.”
“You’re musical?”
I nod.“A little.”
“I think you’re probably being modest right now,” she says, giving me a side-eye.
“Okay, I’m really into music,” I say.When she continues glaring, I add, “And I’m good at it.”
“Therewe go.”She grins.“Own your awesomeness.”
“What are you doing working in a pub?”I ask.“You should be a motivational speaker or a life coach or something.”
“Not a bad idea,” she says.“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that.”
My last table is done, so I run their card.Now I can cash everything out for the night.In a few minutes, I’ll be free.
I just wish I was going back to Kingston’s, instead of to my own place.He and Bash have spoiled me, I’ll admit it.
Kingston
I’m parked outside Bartleby’s and starting to feel antsy.Bash is supposed to be here by now.I text him, but he doesn’t respond.
I’m starting to get pissed.
It’s Valentine’s Day.We’re taking Ella out, remember?
Nothing.Fucking asshole.I get that something’s on his mind, but he doesn’t get to play the tortured artist for weeks and weeks.He needs to get the fuck over it and either talk to me about it, or talk to someone else.
I would hope he feels he can talk to me, though.I was the one he came to that night, almost seven years ago.
He’d let himself into my apartment at four a.m.I woke up to the sound of him clattering around in the kitchen.He’d tried to get himself some water and broken a glass.
I’d never seen Bash cry before.I’ve never seen it since.But when I came out of my bedroom, still stupid on sleep, he’d been sitting on the kitchen floor, sobbing.
“Fuck, what’s wrong?”I asked, hurrying over.
“It’s broken,” he said.
“It’s just a cup.”I got a dustpan and broom and started sweeping.
“No…I’mbroken,” he said.“I fucked…I fucked up, King.King, I fucked up so bad.”
“Hey.”I dropped the broom and grabbed Bash’s arm, pulled him up off the floor and away from the glass.“Talk to me.”
“Why?It doesn’t make it better.It doesn’t undo what I did.”
“Shit, Bash, did you kill someone?”
“Just as bad,” he said.“I hurt someone.A woman.Fuck—fuck—fuck.”
“Where is she?”I asked.
“Trina.”
“You hurt Trina?”
