Where One Goes(48)

“It’s not what you think,” he whispers as he sits me down. “No need to be jealous.”

Jealous? Is that what I am? No, he’s wrong. “I’m not jealous!” I state adamantly. “George is trying to get clean, and she is a weight set to drag him down with her.”

“And she’s been his lover,” he points out, his mouth turning upwards.

The look I give him is fit to annihilate. That was a low blow. My fists clench with his words. Scowling at him, I ask, “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“You know exactly what I’m saying.”

He’s reiterating he thinks I’m jealous. I ignore his statement as I’m not ready to admit that just yet. After all, I barely know George and our relationship, as of yet, has been volatile. “What does she want?”

“Her job.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Is he going to let her continue to work here?” My eyes are practically bulging out of my head as I think the unfathomable. If he lets her continue to work here, he’s f*cking nuts.

“What’s it to you?” A voice comes from behind Sniper and we turn to acknowledge it. Misty is standing with her hip cocked and arms crossed over her chest.

Sniper runs a wide palm down his face. “She was just curious, Misty,” he says, but his tone is drenched with annoyance. He doesn’t like her either.

“If it pleases you,” Misty sneers, “I will no longer work here. I guess that leaves you plenty of opportunity to move in on him.” Leaning toward me, she whispers, “We just had our . . . well . . . we said good-bye.” The taunting smirk on her face validates what her wording was meant to imply. “He’s all yours, baby. But I doubt you could ever be as good as I’ve been to him.”

My mouth drops open. What a f*cking skank. I hate being bitchy or catty, but I can’t help myself. Smiling pitifully at her, I say, “If I wanted him your presence wouldn’t be an issue. And if you are so good, as you say you are, why’s he letting you go? Because in the end, men don’t want skanky coke heads.”

She laughs in disbelief. I’ve one-upped her in the insult game. “You better watch your back, Char,” she warns as she steps toward me again. Sniper stands tall and watches her, wondering if she’s going to attack me.

I grin at her and as she passes by me, I say, “You look a little tense, Misty. Why don’t you go home and snort a line. Might make you feel better.”

“Charlotte!” George’s voice booms, jerking Misty’s, Sniper’s, and my gaze to his seething glare. I glare back at him. Is he mad at me? Is he defending her? His eye is still swollen, but at least it’s open now, and a deep purple surrounds it.

“Yes?” I snap back, placing my hands on my hips.

Misty smiles and continues on her way. “Bye, Charlotte,” she calls, her voice almost in a singsong tone. “George, if you need me for anything, you have my number,” she says, as she walks out.

“I believe I’d like to see you take her down, Char,” Sniper notes with a nod.

“Shut it, Sniper. Charlotte, in my office. Now!” George shouts, and I straighten my back in protest. Is this anger for me, or a symptom of withdrawals?

“I’m off the clock, boss. You can’t tell me what to do!” I stomp past him and head for the back exit, but he grabs me and yanks me in to his office. I look around, but don’t see Ike anywhere. Did he leave me?

“What the f*ck was all that out there?”

“What the f*ck was all this in here?” I counter. “She said you two had a good-bye f*ck.” Those weren’t her exact words, but it’s definitely what she implied. “Was it good for you? To bang the woman whose boyfriend beat the shit out of you?”

“I didn’t f*ck her!” he shouts. “We ended things, okay? She’s not going to work here anymore.”

“Then why’d she say it?” I ask, calmly, in an effort to rein in my anger.

George’s head rears back slightly, his anger draining from his face. Tilting his head to the side, his mouth quirks up slightly. “Are you . . . jealous?” Disbelief is rich in his voice.

My mouth clamps shut as anger and embarrassment swirl inside of me. Why am I acting like a f*cking lunatic? I have no right to. I shouldn’t feel this jealousy. But, God, I am jealous. I despise Misty and hate the fact she’s ever touched him. As the realization dawns on me—that I do, in fact, want George McDermott—like want, want him—my knees go weak. Placing a hand on the desk behind me, I attempt to hold myself up without looking that way. I can’t tell George I have feelings for him. How could I? How could I admit that to him, or anyone, when I have the same feelings for Ike? I’m a f*cking mess right now. I need to change the subject. “No. You asked me to stay, and you made a promise to stay clean. She’s your dealer. I’m concerned, not jealous.”

George steps toward me, closing the distance between us. My heart beats wildly as my stare remains trained on him as I refuse to look away. “Listen, Charlotte,” he whispers. “I realize you’re concerned, but you can’t make outbursts like that. All of my employees will think it’s okay to behave the same way.” My lips fall into a hard line and I stare at my feet. Damn it, he’s right. “Charlotte, please look at me,” he says, softly. When I continue to stare down, he brings his hand under my chin and cups it, tilting my head up. “With that said, I know I’m a hypocrite because I want to kiss you so bad right now. More than I’ve probably ever wanted to kiss a woman before. But I want to be clean, and I don’t want my face to look pulverized when I do it.” His confession weakens my defenses. My shoulders slouch as I succumb. I have no idea what to say so I nod once in understanding.