Naked Love(46)

Snatching the clumps of hair from my chest, like frantically grasping for scattered money on a sidewalk, Avery hugs it and runs to the bathroom.

“Avery …”

The door slams shut followed by more pleas to God and indecipherable mumbling, possibly even a few sobs. I’m not sure where my faith stands right now. My youth was pretty shitty, so I’m not too close to God anymore. However, I get the impression Avery and God have been on the outs for a while.

“Why?” she cries. “I’m sorry.”

I sit up in bed, smirking. She’s apologizing. Her naughty list must be long. Downing the bottle of water she left by my bed, I choke on the last ounce as she continues to repent.

“I shouldn’t have poisoned him.”

What the actual fuck!?

Tossing the empty bottle aside, I take three long strides to the bathroom and slam my shoulder against the door while simultaneously trying to open it.

“Unlock the door! What did you just say? Poison? Did you POISON ME?”

Avery sobs more.

“Open the fucking door before I break it down!”

“Don’t kill me. Please … I’m sorry … my hair … it’s … my life … it’s … why does God hate me?”

“I’m not going to—” I can’t finish that thought. Truth? The door is going to open one way or another, and when it does, I’m going to kill her. “He hates you because you’re a vain, self-centered bitch … and a goddamn attempted murderer!”

“I didn’t want you to die!” Her grief shifts from total despair to anger. “I just wanted you to stop being so mean to me.”

“Well, killing me would accomplish that, wouldn’t it?”

Avery rips the door open, eyes red and swollen, cheeks drowning in tears, but fire flaring from her nostrils. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead!” She shoves my chest.

I grab her wrist and twist her arm around her back, bringing us chest to chest. “What did you give me?”

“Nothing—STOP!”

I fist her hair, possibly pulling out more of it.

“Let go of my hair! Let go of my hair! Please. PLEASE!”

I anticipate a cop knocking at our hotel room door before too long.

“Nothing doesn’t make me vomit and shit until everything inside of me feels raw.”

“Mushroom. Part of one,” she whispers like it’s her last breath while her free hand tugs at mine tangled in her cluster-fuck of hair.

“You picked a random mushroom and put it in my smoothie?”

It’s barely detectable but she nods.

“You have no moral limits.”

She blinks, releasing another tear. I want to tie her up and let her completely fall apart, draining all the evil and vanity from her materialistic soul. Instead, I release her. She melts down the door to the ground, pressing her hands to her head as more sobs fill the air.

“Pull yourself together. We’re leaving.”

I pack my stuff and hers while she sits on the bathroom floor in the same spot at the bottom of the door. She hasn’t moved, but her crying stopped five minutes ago. You’d think someone died and all hope is gone. My loyalty to Deedy starts to wane as I realize I’m going to have to take our stuff out to the truck, along with her dog, then carry her pathetic ass out as well.

But … I do it.

Good thing I didn’t die. Who the hell would take care of her?

A shaky breath rattles her body as I scoop her up and set her on the bed.

“I’m not going to wrangle shorts onto your limp body, so I found this dress in your bag.” I hold up the black sundress.

She stares blankly at it. I remove her nightie, her hands cover her breasts.

Really?

I know what her most intimate part looks and tastes like, yet now she’s showing some modesty? If only she could be a little more modest with her emotions. She cringes when the dress catches on her hair or nest or whatever we’re calling that situation on her head.

“Am I carrying you or can the broken princess walk?”

She stands, staring at her feet, wiggling her toes in her flip-flops. I didn’t take the time to find matching flip-flops. If that matters, then she’d better snap the hell out of this.

“This ends today.” I grab her hand and pull her out to the truck.

Forty-five minutes later, with a refueled truck, we pull into a strip mall. Avery hasn’t said a word. I should do flips over it, but her constant sniffling is worse than her bitching.

“Cheer up, buttercup.” I lift her out of the truck.

She stares at her feet, shoulders curled inward.

“You’re going to look like a million bucks—or according to the sign in the window, $14.99—by the time we leave.”

Her head eases up as I pull her by her hand into the building.

“No.” She tries to pull away.

“Yes.” I tighten my grip.

“What can I do ya for?” The perky purple-haired girl asks.

“Her hair is falling out. I need you to make it stop.”

“No!” Avery’s fight comes back.

I still don’t let go of her hand.

“I’m not doing this.” She looks around, using her whole weight to try to pull away from my hold. “What is this place?” Her head shakes continuously.