Takedown Teague (Caged #1)(58)

“Get out,” I said again. My voice was no longer raised, just blunt. “It’s been four years, and that’s not happening again, you hear me?”

“I’ve heard that particular song from you too many times,” Yolanda responded.

“Go.” I spoke again as I pointed at the door.

“Weigh in tomorrow,” she said, and her tone didn’t leave any room for argument. “I’m going to start watching for change, not just going over two-oh-five. You start fluctuating a lot, and I’ll f*ck you up. Then I’ll bench you until you get your shit together.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled. “Get out.”

The nonchalance was a total act. I definitely could not let Yolanda push me out of the cage—I needed the money now more than ever. I was actually thinking about seeing if she could find me another fight sometime during the week because the cost of two really was quite a bit more than one. Food was about the same because Tria was better at budgeting that, but the water bill had doubled, and the electricity was a little higher, too. I had also helped Tria cover the last couple of books she needed though she swore she was going to pay me back. It all equated to my being broke. The few hundred dollars I normally kept for emergencies was down to about twenty bucks.

“We’re not done here,” Yolanda said with a shake of her finger—pointed in my direction this time. “Don’t you dare be late tomorrow, either!”

She left without another word, and my ass found its way back to the couch.

“What did she mean about you making yourself sick?” Tria asked as soon as the door closed.

“Nothing,” I said. “She just exaggerates.”

“That didn’t sound like exaggerating,” Tria said. “She’s really pissed off.”

“It’s nothing,” I repeated. I tried to lie back down on the couch, but she wasn’t letting this go.

“Liam, don’t bullshit me.” Tria came over and sat down on the couch, pushing my knees a bit so there was room for her. “What did she mean by all of that?”

As I looked up at her, for the very briefest of moments, I considered telling her the truth.

Then I thought better of it.

“Nothing you haven’t heard before,” I said. “I told you what I used to do—fasting, running until I puked, laxatives—all that shit. It makes you sick if you do it too much. Yolanda always gets pissed off if she thinks I’m doing that. She just worries too much. That’s all.”

Tria looked at me with narrowed eyes, and I did my best to hold my gaze steady. She seemed about to start questioning me again, so I quickly piped up.

“If she had actually walked in when I was shoving my face full of that stuff, she probably would have broken the dish over my head! It still would have been worth it because your cooking is awesome.”

Her lips smashed together, and she held in a laugh as she stood up and headed back to the kitchen to finish up the dishes. Feeling guilty about the out-and-out lie I had just told her, I forced myself to my feet so I could help. She didn’t mention Yolanda or what she said again, and I relaxed as we cleaned up and watched a bunch of shit on TV before we got ready for bed.

Awkward time again.

I straddled the windowsill to smoke. It was cold outside, and I was only in my sweats and a light T-shirt. Even Krazy Katie had brought out a sleeping bag for warmth. She was sitting with it all wrapped up around her, a stack of cigarette butts in front of her, and the soft lyrics of “Kumbaya” coming out of her mouth.

I kept quiet, hoping she wouldn’t decide to sing any louder. Her singing voice was f*cking awful. One night last spring, she decided to sing the entire first Wham! album in the middle of the night, and I almost called the cops myself.

Tria came out of the bathroom just as I was finishing up and climbing back in the window. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered a bit.

“Sorry,” I said. “I probably should have just walked outside—I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, no. I don’t want you changing how you do things just because I’m here. I’m in the way enough as it is.”

“You aren’t in the way,” I told her, dismissing the comment.

She huffed out her nose but didn’t respond to my remark. We both climbed into bed in silence without looking at each other at all. We always started out on our backs though neither of us ever fell asleep that way. I fluffed up my pillow and leaned against it. After a few deep breaths, I reached my arm up and across the top of her pillow, and Tria moved over to rest her head on my shoulder.

“There is a job that just opened up at the library on campus,” Tria said as she settled against me.

“Oh yeah?” I replied. She hadn’t mentioned looking for jobs while she studied her ass off for her midterms, but I figured she would start looking before too long. It was going to be a lot easier with both of us bringing in money even if she only worked a few hours.

“I was thinking I would apply for it,” she said. I felt her shoulders rise into a shrug. “It seems to pay all right, and if I can get enough hours, I wouldn’t be in your hair anymore.”

“What the f*ck does that mean?” I asked.

“If I can get enough hours, I can get my own apartment again, and I wouldn’t have to keep mooching off of you.”