Breathe Me In
Page 9
Candace’s cell phone buzzed to life in her purse, which sat on the counter. She cast a forlorn glance back at it without getting up. “That’s him,” she said.
“You don’t want to at least talk to him?” Sam asked. “This is killing me too.”
“It’ll only make things worse.” She set her cup down and went back to worrying the thread with nervous fingers. Macy watched her while the ringtone ended and promptly started up again.
“Talk to him,” she said.
Candace lifted puffy, red-rimmed eyes to hers and chuckled without humor. “You mean you’d allow it?”
“Hell, no, I’d make you stand outside. Yes, dummy, I’ll allow it. Go in my bedroom. Take as long as you need.”
“I don’t know—”
“Go,” both girls insisted, and Candace was up and dashing for her phone almost before their voices died away. After she’d answered and then closed Macy’s bedroom door for privacy, Sam sighed and rubbed her temples.
“Right?” Macy said, suddenly wishing she’d poured herself a cup of coffee. And added some liquor.
“You could be a little more supportive, you know,” Sam said.
“As opposed to you, urging her to remain in her fantasy world?”
“I just want her to be happy.”
“So do I, Samantha. Look at her. Does she look very happy right now? There’s only more of this in her future with him.”
“With all due respect, I mean, I know you’ve known her longer than me, and you’re more familiar with her family than I am, but as close as you feel you are to the situation, it’s still really not any of your business.”
Macy seethed at hearing those words again—Ghost had said more or less the same thing. “If it’s not mine, then it’s not yours either. But I consider my best friend since practically birth to be my business. I’m sorry if that offends you—actually, no, I’m not. The girl is in my apartment bawling her eyes out over the guy.” She plucked at the shoulder of her own shirt, which was still damp from Candace’s tears. “She cried her ‘business’ out all over me.”
“I don’t want to fight with you. I just think you’re wrong not to be more considerate right now. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bigger pessimist than you.”
Well, she had every right to be that way, and if Candace wanted coddling, she should know better than to come to Macy for it. But whatever. Her own cell phone bleeped then, and she was glad for the distraction. Until she saw who it was.
She hadn’t put Ghost’s name—or his nickname, since she didn’t even know his real name—into her contacts list. The text was from “1969” and it contained only one word: Tonight?
Her heart jumped up in her throat, and she tried in vain to swallow it back down.
“What is it?” Sam asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Macy barked a laugh before she could stop herself. How could she see him now? She’d just sent Candace into a tizzy—again. Her hypocrisy had to have some boundaries, after all.
“Nothing,” she told Sam as she typed back, Can’t. Sorry. Then her finger hovered over the Send button for far too long. When her bedroom door flew open and Candace emerged, she hit it almost by reflex.
“Well?” Sam asked.
Candace seemed a little more composed. Her features had lifted somewhat and her eyes were dry though still red. “We just talked. He was checking on me and asked how I thought I did on my exam—I probably flunked, I was so upset. But it was good to talk to him. We really didn’t get into…all the other stuff yet.”
“You look like you feel better,” Macy said.
She gave a tiny shrug. “He has that effect on me.”
“I think you shouldn’t worry. It’s all going to work out.”
Maybe Sam’s words were true. Candace certainly deserved to be with the one she loved—but didn’t everyone? Macy rubbed a hand over her face, suddenly feeling bad about sending such an abrupt rejection. She shouldn’t see him, no, but it wasn’t Ghost’s fault she was feeling a little angry at the world right now. Since Candace had perked up a bit, she and Sam began pawing through Macy’s movie collection, and Macy escaped to her kitchen again.
Maybe some other time, she sent. Candace here now. She isn’t doing so great.
Ah. Neither is B. U guys sittin round man bashing?
I don’t man bash. There are at least as many crazy women as there are men.
LOL! Ain’t that the f**kin truth.
She chuckled. He’d hinted that he had experience in that department. Before she could reply, he sent another message.
You’re killing my fantasy tho. You guys all sittin round with rollers in your hair, green crap all over your faces talkin bout what slime we are. Sounds HOT.
Now I KNOW you’re sick.
Was there ever any doubt?
“What are you laughing at, Mace?” Sam asked from the vicinity of the TV, where she was feeding something into the Blu-ray player.
“Huh? Nothing.”
There was a lot of nothing coming out of her mouth, and if she wasn’t careful, they were going to catch on that it was indeed something. But maybe since Sam thought Macy should butt out of everything—and Candace probably did too—they didn’t have to be privy to her business either. Sounded fair to her.
Macy settled in with the girls and watched both Kill Bill movies—strong ass-kicking women for the win—but she didn’t really see much of it. She and Ghost texted movie quotes and witticisms back and forth the entire time. As she stifled her laughter so as not to clue the girls in to what was going on, she began to fervently wish she hadn’t turned him down. As he’d said, she could use a few more laughs in her life, especially tonight.
Chapter Four
“What are you doing, dude? You’re grinning like a f**king idiot.”
Ghost shoved his phone back in his pocket and went back to work, schooling his expression into grim determination as he reached under the counter with his broom. “Nothing.”
“Who are you texting?” Brian asked. He stood across the room with a paint roller, liberally smeared with the stuff. Brian was a gifted artist but he’d probably never painted a wall in his life.
“No one.”
“Bullshit.”
They’d wasted no time in trying to get the parlor back in order. Ghost’s suggestion to go grab Jameson Andrews by the scruff of his f**king scrawny-ass neck and drag him here to help had gone unheeded. Didn’t matter. They would get back on their feet without any help from anyone…except Evan, Brian’s assistant-DA brother, who’d shown up unexpectedly a couple hours ago. He was currently hauling out the chairs with ruined upholstery.
That bastard had done more damage than they had initially thought.
“Is it a girl?” Brian asked.
“Don’t worry about it, man.”
“Just seems odd, from someone who’s been telling me to bail this whole time.”
“Don’t be a bitch. I’m talking to someone. I’m not at liberty yet to say who.”
Brian opened his mouth to retort but Ghost’s phone rang then. Not Macy’s number, but his older sister’s. He got along well with Steph, but they hadn’t exactly been close since she moved to Oklahoma to get married, and she usually only called him if there was something going on with his grandmother. He propped his broom against the counter and answered.
“You don’t want to at least talk to him?” Sam asked. “This is killing me too.”
“It’ll only make things worse.” She set her cup down and went back to worrying the thread with nervous fingers. Macy watched her while the ringtone ended and promptly started up again.
“Talk to him,” she said.
Candace lifted puffy, red-rimmed eyes to hers and chuckled without humor. “You mean you’d allow it?”
“Hell, no, I’d make you stand outside. Yes, dummy, I’ll allow it. Go in my bedroom. Take as long as you need.”
“I don’t know—”
“Go,” both girls insisted, and Candace was up and dashing for her phone almost before their voices died away. After she’d answered and then closed Macy’s bedroom door for privacy, Sam sighed and rubbed her temples.
“Right?” Macy said, suddenly wishing she’d poured herself a cup of coffee. And added some liquor.
“You could be a little more supportive, you know,” Sam said.
“As opposed to you, urging her to remain in her fantasy world?”
“I just want her to be happy.”
“So do I, Samantha. Look at her. Does she look very happy right now? There’s only more of this in her future with him.”
“With all due respect, I mean, I know you’ve known her longer than me, and you’re more familiar with her family than I am, but as close as you feel you are to the situation, it’s still really not any of your business.”
Macy seethed at hearing those words again—Ghost had said more or less the same thing. “If it’s not mine, then it’s not yours either. But I consider my best friend since practically birth to be my business. I’m sorry if that offends you—actually, no, I’m not. The girl is in my apartment bawling her eyes out over the guy.” She plucked at the shoulder of her own shirt, which was still damp from Candace’s tears. “She cried her ‘business’ out all over me.”
“I don’t want to fight with you. I just think you’re wrong not to be more considerate right now. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bigger pessimist than you.”
Well, she had every right to be that way, and if Candace wanted coddling, she should know better than to come to Macy for it. But whatever. Her own cell phone bleeped then, and she was glad for the distraction. Until she saw who it was.
She hadn’t put Ghost’s name—or his nickname, since she didn’t even know his real name—into her contacts list. The text was from “1969” and it contained only one word: Tonight?
Her heart jumped up in her throat, and she tried in vain to swallow it back down.
“What is it?” Sam asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Macy barked a laugh before she could stop herself. How could she see him now? She’d just sent Candace into a tizzy—again. Her hypocrisy had to have some boundaries, after all.
“Nothing,” she told Sam as she typed back, Can’t. Sorry. Then her finger hovered over the Send button for far too long. When her bedroom door flew open and Candace emerged, she hit it almost by reflex.
“Well?” Sam asked.
Candace seemed a little more composed. Her features had lifted somewhat and her eyes were dry though still red. “We just talked. He was checking on me and asked how I thought I did on my exam—I probably flunked, I was so upset. But it was good to talk to him. We really didn’t get into…all the other stuff yet.”
“You look like you feel better,” Macy said.
She gave a tiny shrug. “He has that effect on me.”
“I think you shouldn’t worry. It’s all going to work out.”
Maybe Sam’s words were true. Candace certainly deserved to be with the one she loved—but didn’t everyone? Macy rubbed a hand over her face, suddenly feeling bad about sending such an abrupt rejection. She shouldn’t see him, no, but it wasn’t Ghost’s fault she was feeling a little angry at the world right now. Since Candace had perked up a bit, she and Sam began pawing through Macy’s movie collection, and Macy escaped to her kitchen again.
Maybe some other time, she sent. Candace here now. She isn’t doing so great.
Ah. Neither is B. U guys sittin round man bashing?
I don’t man bash. There are at least as many crazy women as there are men.
LOL! Ain’t that the f**kin truth.
She chuckled. He’d hinted that he had experience in that department. Before she could reply, he sent another message.
You’re killing my fantasy tho. You guys all sittin round with rollers in your hair, green crap all over your faces talkin bout what slime we are. Sounds HOT.
Now I KNOW you’re sick.
Was there ever any doubt?
“What are you laughing at, Mace?” Sam asked from the vicinity of the TV, where she was feeding something into the Blu-ray player.
“Huh? Nothing.”
There was a lot of nothing coming out of her mouth, and if she wasn’t careful, they were going to catch on that it was indeed something. But maybe since Sam thought Macy should butt out of everything—and Candace probably did too—they didn’t have to be privy to her business either. Sounded fair to her.
Macy settled in with the girls and watched both Kill Bill movies—strong ass-kicking women for the win—but she didn’t really see much of it. She and Ghost texted movie quotes and witticisms back and forth the entire time. As she stifled her laughter so as not to clue the girls in to what was going on, she began to fervently wish she hadn’t turned him down. As he’d said, she could use a few more laughs in her life, especially tonight.
Chapter Four
“What are you doing, dude? You’re grinning like a f**king idiot.”
Ghost shoved his phone back in his pocket and went back to work, schooling his expression into grim determination as he reached under the counter with his broom. “Nothing.”
“Who are you texting?” Brian asked. He stood across the room with a paint roller, liberally smeared with the stuff. Brian was a gifted artist but he’d probably never painted a wall in his life.
“No one.”
“Bullshit.”
They’d wasted no time in trying to get the parlor back in order. Ghost’s suggestion to go grab Jameson Andrews by the scruff of his f**king scrawny-ass neck and drag him here to help had gone unheeded. Didn’t matter. They would get back on their feet without any help from anyone…except Evan, Brian’s assistant-DA brother, who’d shown up unexpectedly a couple hours ago. He was currently hauling out the chairs with ruined upholstery.
That bastard had done more damage than they had initially thought.
“Is it a girl?” Brian asked.
“Don’t worry about it, man.”
“Just seems odd, from someone who’s been telling me to bail this whole time.”
“Don’t be a bitch. I’m talking to someone. I’m not at liberty yet to say who.”
Brian opened his mouth to retort but Ghost’s phone rang then. Not Macy’s number, but his older sister’s. He got along well with Steph, but they hadn’t exactly been close since she moved to Oklahoma to get married, and she usually only called him if there was something going on with his grandmother. He propped his broom against the counter and answered.
