Messy Love(87)

Her eyebrows shot up in silent question, but I shook my head in answer. Her attention was called to the front door when her appointment walked in for a Prince Albert. As she welcomed the leanly muscled guy with what could be a permanent scowl etched on his face, I glanced around InkSpired to make sure Kam was still busy with a client and dialed Ralph.

He answered on the second ring with a rough hey.

“Hey, it’s me, Marissa.’’

“Hm, hey, girl. What’s up?’’

“You okay?’’

“Uh-hu. Just have a motherfucking hangover.’’

“Were you with Wyatt last night?’’

“What? Nah, I told you he’s been avoiding me.’’ He cleared his throat, and I heard him moving around and drink something. I hoped he wasn’t on a bender or something. “I’ve been drowning my sorrows on my own. Sad, right? Why do you ask anyway?’’

“Danny Burton stopped by InkSpired to ask me if I had any news from Wyatt. He knows about… You know.’’

“You two? Yeah, Mr. Burton is pretty good at knowing that kind of stuff.’’ He yawned and then cursed when I heard something crash on his end. “Are you going to tell me why you’re calling or do I need to guess? I’m telling you, my brain is mush right now, and I can barely keep my eyes open.’’

“Danny said Wyatt has been hanging with the wrong crowd.’’

“Wrong crowd?’’

“Junkies, dealers. Apparently, he also has his kicks out with women.’’

“Shit, Marissa.’’

“Don’t worry. It’s fine.’’ I lied through my teeth and looked down at my sketch and quickly dried my eyes before tears fell on the paper and ruined my work. “It’s none of my business, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. It’s stupid, isn’t it? He’s hurt me, but I’m trying to look out for him even though he couldn’t care less about me.’’

“You don’t know that.’’ He sighed down the phone. “I don’t want to downplay it or anything, but sex isn't always meaningful. Sometimes we have sex to forget someone or something.’’

“Yeah, it’s not helping much, but that’s the thought that counts. I just wanted to let you know about Wyatt.’’

“You’re a great person, girlie. I’m sorry he—‘’

“Don’t.’’ I sniffled and hated myself for being so weak. I hadn't been such a crybaby when stuck in a hospital bed, having to rehab my whole body to learn how to walk again years ago, but give me a broken heart, and I’m a mess. “It was a mistake right from the start. Shit happens.’’

“Alright. I’ll poke around and see what’s up with the jerk. Thanks for the heads up.’’

“You’re welcome. But when you see him don’t tell him I’ve been worrying or, you know.’’

“You got it. Take care, girlie.’’

“You too, Ralph.’’

Phone on the desk and drawing pad in hands, I stared blankly ahead. I didn’t see anything that surrounded me. I was consumed by thoughts of Wyatt with random women in his bed, his kitchen. Everywhere we were together.

That pain was evil but necessary, the realization that I had put whatever it had been between us on a pedestal too. Knowing that it only took days, maybe even less to forget about me and erase my touch from his skin hurt and destroyed the useless hope lingering deep inside me.

Sometimes, even if a twist of fate entwined your lives, it didn’t mean that you would ever be more than that.

***





WYATT


Thinking that I had been worried sick about my lack of money only two weeks ago had me somberly laughing as I splashed water on my face in the bathroom. Thankfully, it was devoid of puke this morning, unlike the previous day.

My bank account was stuffed with dirty money, and I wasn’t worried about paying my bills on time or affording food and my energy drinks anymore. Instead, I was disgusted with my place, feeling like a stranger in my own home.

Every fucking day was spent with people at home, from Tim the asshole to my father with countless other worthless shits and the women that seemed drawn to them, or probably to the fix, they could give them.

Disgust didn’t cover it.

By looking at me in the mirror, you’d think I was hungover or coming down from a high, but I hadn’t touched alcohol or drugs. I’ve been squeaky clean, always attentive to who was around, to what could happen. So far, I had been able to contain the mess inside my apartment without getting a visit from my neighbors asking who were all these people and why was there noises from drunken brawls and high giggles from girls that made my skin crawl. I had to keep my mouth shut and let their shoddy manicured hands touch my arms and chest as they asked Tim and my biological father for ecstasy or whatever floated their boat.

That was my fucking life, a life that trapped me while giving me what I had been looking for. Money.

I had to quit my job two days ago when I called in late because I didn’t want to leave my place with someone inside or unattended with all the drugs lying around. I was freshly unemployed, and yet my asshole of a genitor threw money at me with a smirk, probably sure he had me by the balls and was fast converting me to his way of life.