Page 130 of You're so Bad

When I see her, that voice in my head starts screaming. I know what I have to do.

She puts her arms around me, and I nearly break, but I can’t let that happen. Not yet. I take in the smell and feel of her, the lilac of her hair and the softness of her neck, and I press a kiss to it. Then I pull back.

“You look like shit,” she says, and I almost laugh.

“It’s the red suit.” It was the only thing I had to change into. “I defy anyone to look good in a red suit. You haven’t been sleeping.”

I lift a hand to one of her eyes. They’re puffy, and the circles under them tell me she’s been crying because of me.

It only makes me more determined to do what I don’t want to do.

She kisses me, and I let myself kiss her back.

One last time.

“Let’s go.” She takes my arm and pulls me out of the building, and I'm happy to leave. I never want to come back, but part of me is already resigned to it happening. I may not have been caught for some of the things I’ve done, but a few of them would have landed me with sentences. Maybe a price always has to be paid, and it’s finally my turn to pony up.

She packs me into the car and gets behind the wheel. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she says. “I’m afraid they’re going to drag you back in.”

“Me too.”

As she pulls out of the parking lot, she tells me the guys are waiting at Burke’s place, if I want to see them. Not yet, I tell her.

“Reese has been back at the house since his birthday party on Monday,” she says. “We were worried he wouldn’t want to leave Rafe and Sinclair’s place since they obviously have a much better situation, but he said he missed us and the animals. Plus, he wanted to be there for when you get home.”

My heart swells and breaks, because I fucking want that. I want to go home with Shauna and Reese and Constance. To be there with the little gremlin dog who hates me and the cat who seems to think I’m not a piece of shit. But even if the charges don’t stick, they deserve better than me. Someone who’s not shattered and patched up with shitty tape.

“He was really touched when he saw the craft room,” she adds.

“But I didn’t—”

“Nana and I painted it for you,” she says, giving me a sidelong glance. “He’s worried about you, Leonard. We all are.”

“You’re not going to call me Ray?” I ask, my voice scratchy, unused.

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

A moment of silence passes between us.

“Why’d you choose Leonard?” she asks.

“Leonard Cohen,” I say, deciding to tell her what I’ve admitted to no one. “It sounds so fucking stupid, but I heard that song ‘Hallelujah’ when I was feeling really low, and it made me feel something. I hadn’t felt anything for a long time, so I let myself think maybe it was a sign. I wanted to be someone different. Someone who could do good things… But that happened before I set out to con Burke, so I guess I was full of shit, huh?”

“Oh, Leonard.”

I can tell without looking there are tears in her eyes. I put those there too.

“Please bring me to Mrs. Ruiz’s house. I need to talk to you. Just you.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I’m betting she already knows. But my tiger’s not going to make it easy for me.

She parks in the driveway, and the neighbor raises his cane, giving me a look that saysdumbassmore clearly than the word itself. He’s in his Wednesday busboy cap.

I salute him, and he laughs to himself.

Appropriate. I unlock the door and walk inside, and it’s empty and a bit cold. A void.

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