Wild Fire (Chaos #6.5)(59)

He immediately started to close it making a mental note to get a goddamned peephole, even if he hadn’t gotten one up until then because he didn’t want it fucking with the look of his door.

She threw out a hand to catch it and begged, “Please, Dutch. I’m not here to cause problems. I’m here to talk to Georgie.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” he informed her.

“Serious. I’m not gonna be a bitch. I promise.”

She said this putting her other hand on the door, and all her weight into both.

“Stop pushing on the door, Carolyn.”

Her gaze went beyond him, and she exclaimed, “Georgie! Please. I was out of line and I’m sorry. Totally. But I need to talk to you.”

He felt Georgie’s hand on the skin at the small of his back because he was again only in his sleep shorts before Georgiana said softly, “Dutch.”

Fuck.

He opened the door.

Carolyn came in.

He shut the door, then moved to stand in front of Georgie so he was to the side, in order she could see her sister, but he was still out front.

And he started it by laying his one ground rule.

“Any shit comes outta your mouth to your sister that I do not like, I swear to fuck, Carolyn, I’ll put you out.”

She stared at him, a weird longing on her face that started to make him feel nauseous, until he got it.

It wasn’t about him.

It was about what she lost in Jagger.

“Carolyn,” Georgie called her attention.

Carolyn looked beyond him to her sister.

“I’m in a bind,” she said.

Dutch crossed his arms on his chest.

“I get it,” she continued. “It’s not your problem. It’s not anyone’s problem. But mine. But I’m going to be evicted, like, tomorrow if I don’t give them at least three months’ rent.”

She stopped talking and Georgie didn’t start.

“Georgie,” she pleaded.

“I want to help you,” Georgie said in a quiet voice.

Shit.

She said she’d back down on her declaration and there it was.

“But I can’t help you,” Georgie went on.

Thank fuck.

She was standing strong.

Georgie kept going.

“Because if I give you money…and three months’ rent, Carolyn, just saying, that will put me in a bind…still, I can’t know you won’t buy drugs with it.”

“I need a roof over my head more than cocaine.”

“You say that now—”

“It’s not the problem you think it is.”

“How am I supposed to trust that?”

“Because I’m telling you.”

“Can you put yourself in my shoes with me having your history, and I was saying these things to you, would you risk your nest egg that isn’t much, but it’s at least a little peace of mind, on me?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Carolyn asked. “I can’t live on the streets.”

“Move in with Mother.”

“She said no go.”

“Move in with Dad.”

“No way,” Carolyn spat.

Since he knew where this was heading, Dutch had to intervene.

And he did it to say a warning, “Georgie.”

Georgie was silent.

Carolyn looked between them, back and forth and again and again, fast.

Then her hands flew out and she cried, “You’ve known each other…what? Days? And you’re picking him over me?”

“You can’t live with me. I have a roommate,” Georgie pointed out.

“She’s not there. She’s in Somalia or whatever.”

“She’s paying for that space and not for you to stay there.”

“I cannot believe my ears,” Carolyn spat, her tone and the twist in her face saying she was losing it.

And that shit was not happening again.

“Chill the fuck out,” Dutch bit.

Carolyn glared at him then sucked in a breath.

When she got a lock on it, she said, “I’ll sell some stuff. I have good stuff. Consignment won’t take long. I’ll take extra shifts. They’re always asking for extra shifts and I get time and a half. It’ll be a month. Most, two.”

“No, Carolyn.”

Carolyn tossed a hand Dutch’s way. “Okay, seems like you’re gonna be here most of the time, I can stay in your space.”

“Carolyn, I cannot imagine how scary it would be to be evicted,” Georgie began. “But if it’s taken them three months to do it, you’ve had plenty of time to sort this out before the final hour. You have to have at least twenty, maybe it’s even thirty thousand dollars of stuff in your closet. That’s nearly two years’ rent. This is not my problem. It isn’t Mother’s problem. It isn’t Dad’s. It’s yours. You’re ticked at Dad he wouldn’t give you money to overspend and whatnot. But I’d bet he’d give you a room in his house while you sorted out your life.”

“Guilt money and he owes me and you too,” Carolyn declared.

“I don’t know how you figure that.”

“He left us with her, that’s how I figure that. Why do you think I bump?” she asked snidely. “I mean, Jesus, Georgie, we can’t all be you. You never gave a shit about anything anyone thought. You just went along, being Georgie. Mom rides your ass to lose weight, you’re like, ‘Whatever,’ and off you go to Bonnie Brae Ice Cream with your girl squad.”