Page 38 of Dirty Roxie
Mack
FIVE MINUTES BEFORE
“When’s the last time you talked to Cutie?” I use the nickname for Quinn I know Reed hates after I catch him checking out a hot blonde at the front desk.
“I haven’t,” he says.
I pull out my phone to text Daria. I haven’t talked to her in a while, and talking about Quinn makes me think of Daria. I miss the fuck out of her. So much so, I think I see her at the front desk and chuckle to myself.
“Not at all?” I’m surprised. I didn’t think he was just going to hit it and quit it with her, not after everything that happened.
“No. I want to—”
I stop listening.
Quit walking.
Cease breathing.
Everything around me stills.
Wait a mother fucking minute.
Because the Daria at the front desk is not a figment of my imagination. It’s actually her. No way are there two tall, beautiful, Russian brunettes that have a reason to be in Colombia, checking into the same resort as Andrei Turgenev and Viktor Limonov, with a fucking pink arm cast.
Daria is here.
Right here.
I delete the text I was typing and quickly type out another, then wait for her to get the notification, watch as she reads it, and responds.
ME: Hey, gorgeous. Just checking in. Still resting?
DARIA: Not right this second. But I will soon, promise. [kiss emoji]
ME: Where are you?
DARIA: With Quinn.
“What?” Reed asks, interrupting. I hold up a finger to stall him, still typing with my others.
ME: Oh yeah, what are you two up to?
DARIA: Nothing really.
“Goddamn, mother fucking . . . can’t listen to save her life, mother fucker, shit!” I can’t think of enough curse words right now to adequately express how I’m feeling.
“What the fuck is going on?” Reed asks.
ME: Nothing, huh? That’s not you and Q here in Medellín checking into the same resort I’m standing in?
“Mack?” Reed interrupts me again.
I jot my chin toward the front desk. “Daria and Quinn are checking in.”
He looks up as Daria is mentioning something to Quinn. Both women looking around from one end of the room to the other. Faces paling as they see us.
Reed takes off in their direction, not that I can blame him.
