Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(35)

“At least give it a shot, Simone. Don’t give up yet. Let your friends help you.” Her words and puppy dog eyes are a plea I'm not sure I’ll be able to resist.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


The neon green cup with the cat in the center sits on the edge of my kitchen counter. Right below it on the floor, my trash can waits. It will take one quick flick of my hand to send the cheap souvenir container over into the bin. Then it’s a simple tie job before I walk the bag to the trash and throw away a piece of Trey. I should do it.

I lean with my back against the opposite counter and stare at the cup with narrow eyes. My lips pucker as I visualize the cup falling off the edge with a small clink as it hits the glass container of spoiled mayo. Cleaning out my fridge was not a top priority before I jumped on a plane almost two months ago. All I need to do is reach across the space and tap the cup in. I can do it.

A sigh escapes my lips and I grab the cup and toss it on the top of my kitchen packing box. I’m weak. What am I going to do about it? Plus, the kitchen box wasn’t even close to full, so one more item won’t hurt it. Besides a few favorite mugs and the cat cup, everything else in the kitchen was included in the rent. Most of the furniture too. One of the perks of the place. It made my move in easy and now it will make my leaving easy as well. Like I was never even here.

“Simone,” Amanda’s soft voice floats to where I stand in the kitchen, “do you have more boxes?”

I walk to my bedroom where the short-haired blonde woman’s eyes flicker over the pile of shoes laid out on my bedroom floor. I sigh at the sight as well. It’s a day for sighing.

“I’d get rid of some, but I purged before I left New York.”

Amanda’s eyes fly back to the tower of shoes in the middle and she grimaces. “This is your post purged pile?”

I shrug when she looks back at me. “I like shoes.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she steps closer to the pile and sits down in front of it, “but I think we’re going to need more boxes. Maybe I should call Pen to bring some with her.”

“Maybe I should ship them home now.” I lean on the doorframe and try to decide which pairs I can stand to lose for a few months.

Amanda stands up. “Hey you promised us you’d give it at least a month before you go home. Plus, I hooked you up with the interview. You’re practically back on your feet already."

A small laugh escapes at her enthusiasm. No one knows how bad it is, and while I appreciate Amanda’s help at getting me a job, part time waitressing isn’t going to come close to what I was making before.

“It’s not so much I agreed to give it a month as Aspen didn’t give me a choice.”

We walk to the kitchen right as the buzzer breaks the quiet of the room. I push the button on the little keypad to allow them access after Marissa shouts through the speaker they’ve arrived with the cavalry. I’m a little nervous who she's included in the group. The last person I want to see today is Trey.

The apartment door opens and a stack of boxes is thrown into the open space. Marissa’s long brown hair is up in a ponytail high on her head. Amanda and I both laugh at the sight as she clears the doorway.

“Are you filming an eighties video later today, Mar?” Amanda asks with a hand over her mouth.

Marissa stops in the entryway blocking the others behind her. “What? This is the style now.”

She’s shoved forward and Aspen in jeans and a thick fleece jacket walks in behind her. “Yeah, the style for harlots.” She pulls on her friend's hair and walks past throwing a package of tape on top of the stack of boxes.

“Did you just call me a streetwalker?” Marissa asks with both hands on her hips.

Not missing a beat, Aspen turns to her with her head cocked at an exaggerated side angle. “Yeah.”

Marissa turns her body to the open door. “Finn, your woman just called me a whore.”

Finn laughs as he enters the room and quickly puts his hands in the air in a “not going to touch that” gesture.

“Don’t be upset, Marissa,” Aspen sounds insincere. “It will make a good handle if you decide to take up BDSM.”

“Uh, no thanks. I mean some handcuffs okay, maybe, but I couldn’t do all the whips and chains.”

“Okay!” Finn barks from where he retreated in the living room. “Easy, ladies, Jake and I have virgin ears.”

The large driver I met before steps into my apartment and closes the door behind him. He stops and surveys the room before shaking his head. “I do not even want to know.” He’s dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt but is as imposing as when I last saw him in a suit.

“What boxes are done, Simone? Jake and I will load the car and we’ll take some to Aspen’s.” Finn’s not-so-subtle attempt to change the topic doesn’t fool anyone.

I point to the small stack of boxes in the living room. “I don’t have much. The place came furnished. So it’s clothes and personal knickknacks."

Jake walks to the stack and picks up two before he leaves out the door again. Finn watches him with a skeptical face. But after trying to stack two boxes on top of each other, he eventually gives up and carries one box with both hands.

Aspen pats him on the butt as he walks by and he stops to smile at her shrugging when she eyes his single box. “Don’t want to overdo it.”