The Game (That Girl, #2)(7)
It pisses me off that this dickhead made my heart skip a beat the moment I laid eyes on him. That f*cking shit only happens in the movies. God, I’d rather stick needles in my eyeballs than face that dick.
“Um, Jazzy, are you okay?”
Lynlee’s words break me from my mental tirade.
“Grab some food and let’s go out to my place,” I reply.
Salt in the wound. Yep, salt in the wound, knowing this mansion belongs to Levi. It almost makes me want to move out. Key word being almost. The day I showed up, I remember being awed by the simple beauty of this place. You have to remember I was raised in a single-wide trailer with three bedrooms, one bathroom, no lawn, and a chain link fence. So when I stepped foot in this house, it blew my mind. Lynlee knew I was very skittish to move in with her, and to even form a relationship with her again.
Growing up, we were two peas in a pod, amigos, sisters, BFFs. Never a day went by without seeing each other. Hell, we generally spent the night with each other, no matter if it was a school day or not. I had my dad and Lynlee. Then one day I lost Lynlee, and a year later I lost my dad.
I vowed to never do relationships again. Not friends, and definitely not a man. The last man I was with caused me enough trouble and was the undoing of everything I’d ever had hope for. Deep down, I blame him for my dad’s death.
When Lynlee reached out, at first I didn’t recognize her name because I didn’t know a Lynlee. She wasn’t the same girl I grew up with and loved. Jealously was my first emotion, and then hatred. Yes, I hated Lynlee for a long time for leaving me behind. Actually, hate might not even be a strong enough word. I saved her night after night, and was always by her side. In school, I was the sexy vixen and the loud, obnoxious bitch who would ‘shank a skank’ for her.
The day Lynlee left me behind in our hometown, a piece of me died. When a piece of your being dies, you’re never the same, and it’s like a tug of war with your soul. It fights like hell to be that person or find those memories to grasp onto, and in some moments I would discover them. But as soon as I did, they vanished in seconds, and I went back to the new Jazzy. The problem is, I hate the new Jazzy. And how do you look in the mirror on a daily basis when you hate the skin you wear? The bathroom sink is my greatest enemy.
Then Lincoln reached out and explained everything Lynlee went through. Her journey, his mom and her plot to get rid of her, and losing the baby. It was Lincoln’s effort that finally convinced me my relationship with Lynlee was worth a second try. He traveled to our hometown. The whole time I thought Lynlee was at the local hotel waiting for me, but the truth is she’ll never be able to go back there, leaving me only one choice. To leave. So I left behind my daddy’s trailer with most of our belongings still in it. Hell, it was the only thing he left behind. The only thing he owned besides his Harley, and I put his Harley in storage. It was a symbol too difficult to look at.
Lincoln made sure to let me know that Lynlee wasn’t the same person. She no longer bore the brunt of fear and depression. It was simple—she had a new life with a renewed hope for the future. He explained to me how lighthearted she has become and that he witnesses her become more and more comfortable in her reborn skin every day. His words, “She’s a playful goofball” were completely unbelievable to me. It only took me a few days of being around her to see exactly what he was referring to. Lynlee’s new outlook on life inspires me on a daily basis.
Walking out to the guesthouse where I laid claim, I ask Lynlee, “Remember that first month I was here and we fought like rabid dogs?”
“Dear lord, how could I forget? I hated you one minute and loved you the next.”
“Yeah, me too,” I mumble, then chuckle, remembering it all.
“I really thought Lincoln was going to make us put on boxing gloves and lock us in the basement.”
“Thanks for not giving up on me, Lynlee Lou Lou.”
Twirling a bag of Fritos overhead and skipping down the elegantly decorated sidewalk, she sings, “You’re welcome. I knew you couldn’t give up this whole piece of fabulous.”
“Gag me, sister.”
Every single time I walk the path from the main house to the guesthouse, I notice a beautiful fairy statue. She always happens to catch the sun just right, sending off a beautiful glow. I don’t believe in magic, but this little fairy is the closest thing I ever saw that could be magical.
“Sister, what is that?” I ask.
“What?” Lynlee stops her skipping, turning back to look.
I point to the illuminating statue. “That fairy.”
We both walk over to it. I typically think fairy, butterfly, and dolphin knick-knacks are, well, f*cking cheesy and stupid. But this one is simply beautiful.
“I’m not sure. Levi has one at every one of his places. There’s an identical one in Dallas, here, his place in Hawaii, and his cabin up north.” We both continue to stare at the lights and colors radiating from the fairy. “I’ve tried asking Lincoln, and he just shrugs me off. There has to be some kind of story.”
We stand silently admiring her until a very noticeable and seductive moan comes from the main house. The window to the room where Levi is entertaining the whores is open. Howls, giggles, and another moan of ecstasy fill in the air, making my stomach turn with disgust. Then jealousy hits me. Those whores are consuming every f*cking square inch of the perfect, ever-so-handsome Levi. My thoughts make me feel flushed and simultaneously shiver.