As I win the next hand, my intoxication blurs my thought process, and I start working my magic, flirting with the girl across from me, who tells me her name is Kenzie. After a few smiles and compliments, I get her to leave Jonah’s lap and come over to mine.

“You have gorgeous eyes,” she whispers in my ear, thankfully not giggling as she runs her fingers through my hair.

“You better not hurt her,” Jonah says with a laugh as he takes a sip of his beer and studies his cards.

Hurt her, no. Fuck her, yes. I wind my arm around her back and she wiggles her ass a little, settling into my lap, and it feels nice, but not as good as it usually does.

“Ante up, asshole,” Jonah says to me, tossing a handful of blue chips to the center of the table.

Shooting him a warning look, I reach for my chips, but pause when his eyes dart to the door. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite fucking person in the world. What are you doing here, beautiful?”

“And if it isn’t the biggest dipshit in the world. I live here, you moron.” The sound of Violet’s voice over the music makes me tense. I thought she wasn’t going to be home from work for at least another hour.

I wait for what seems like five hours, when really it’s probably only more like five seconds, then Violet comes walking past the table and turns into the kitchen area next to it. She’s wearing a long skirt that sits low on her hips and this black and white top that only covers to the bottom of her ribs. I can see her flat stomach, smooth skin, and a tattoo curling up and over her rib cage and all the way down below her hip in black ink. Curvy patterns form flowers and take up half her side. It’s the sexiest God damn thing I’ve ever seen… I want to rip her clothes off so I can see where the lines stop and begin.

She ambles for the fridge, hardly paying attention to the party going on and then Greyson appears at the table, looking red-eyed and smelling of cigarette smoke.

He flops down in a chair beside Seth, grabs a handful of potato chips and says, “What’d I miss?”

Seth squints his eyes as he leans in toward Greyson. “Are you…” He sniffs the air in front of Greyson’s mouth. “Are you drunk?”

Greyson shrugs, shoving the chips into his mouth. “Does it really matter?”

Seth leans back in his seat with his arm draped on the back. “You hardly ever drink.”

Greyson ignores him and starts munching on chips while my focus drifts back to Violet in the kitchen. She’s hunting in the fridge for something, her head ducked down. She flips some of her hair off her shoulder, and quickly glances in my direction, her eyes flickering from the girl on my lap to me. I expected the detached look she’s always so good at giving and I think she’s aiming for it, but for the slightest second there’s hurt in her eyes.

“So Jonah the Dipshit,” she says, yanking her gaze off me. “What have you been up to for the last few months?”

Jonah the Dipshit tips back in his chair, checking out her ass. “Not a whole hell of a lot. You still up to your usual?”

Unable to help myself, I pick a chip up and throw it at him. My drunken aim is off and it hits the wall, dinging it, and Jonah doesn’t even notice. Seth does, though, and so does Kenzie, both giving me a puzzled look.

Violet leans back from the fridge and closes the door with her hip, clutching a half-full bottle of tequila in her hand. I immediately sense something’s wrong. She says she doesn’t drink and I’ve never seen her drink before. I wonder if something happened, at work, or maybe with her parents’ case, but how am I supposed to find out what’s wrong when she won’t fucking talk to me.

“Not lately.” She unscrews the cap, her eyes steady on Jonah who looks like he thinks he’s about to get lucky. She sucks in a deep breath, then puts the mouth of the bottle up to her lips, and angles her head back, guzzling a swallow down. Her back arches and her chest angles out as she drinks. I’m pretty sure every dude at the table, besides Seth and Greyson, watches her with their jaw hanging open.

“Vixen,” Seth mutters from the chair beside me with a smirk on his face as he examines his cards.

Violet detaches the bottle from her mouth and her eyes water up as she gags. She quickly twists the cap back on and then licks the remaining tequila off her lips. “God, that burnt the shit out of my throat.”

“Ta-kill-ya will do that to you,” Jonah jokes like he’s the world’s freaking funniest comedian.

Violet tolerantly smiles at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jonah grins as he sets his cards down on the table. “So I know you said you weren’t up to the usual, but could you please, pretty please make an exception for your favorite guy in the whole world. I need it badly, baby.”

Violet holds the bottle in her hand, her green eyes darting to mine before she says to Jonah, “Follow me.”

Jonah looks like he just struck gold and pushes the chair back from the table. “Sorry guys, but I think I’m going to sit the next hand out.” He scoops up his beer and circles around the table, trailing behind Violet as she breezes past me with Jonah following her like a puppy dog. They disappear into her room—our room. I stare at the door, my chest burning as I fight the desire to go after her. She’s not mine. I don’t want her to be mine. Just let her be. It’s not like she’s having sex.

“What a slut,” Seth says under his breath as he reaches for a red plastic cup full of vodka and orange juice.

“She’s not a slut,” I snap a little harsher than I mean to, throwing my cards onto the table. “You don’t know anything about her.”

Seth moves the rim of the cup to his mouth. “Neither do you,” he reminds me. “So how do you know she’s not?”

“Because I do.” But I don’t. Violet lies a lot and it’s hard to tell if what leaves her mouth is real—if anything. Maybe she’s not a virgin. Maybe she sleeps around as much as I do. Maybe she deals drugs, sleeps around, and then does crazy shit like jump out the window.

“God damn it,” I curse because this shouldn’t be bothering me. No girl ever has. Yet Violet is. I shove Kenzie off my lap and she lands on her feet but stumbles forward in her heels. She barely catches herself on the countertop.

“Rude much?” she huffs, standing up.

I rise to my feet as rage blasts through me. I have no idea what to do, but if I don’t do something soon, I’m going to burst.

Violet

Drunk, evil Violet is coming out and she’s bored. This is not a good combination. It more than likely means I’m going to go looking for trouble. And trouble for me usually means doing stuff like jumping out of two-story windows. As much as I love tasting death, the last time I got drunk when I was feeling like this, I ended up actually getting hit by a car. I broke my leg, too, and Preston was not happy about it. I tried to do my best to explain to him why I did it and he told me I was going to be one of those people who wouldn’t be able to drink, not without severe consequences. I hate that I’m thinking about Preston and that I kind of, sort of, maybe miss him a little and the life I’d built for myself with him, because before the whole drama/groping thing it was somewhat comfortable. And I’ve never had comfortable before.

“Hey, do you mind if I light up right here?” Jonah the Dipshit asks as he settles on my bed, crossing his legs. He’s one of my regulars who’s slightly annoying and gets on my nerves, but I’m bored and need a distraction. And I’m fairly certain Luke thinks I came back here to do something with him, by the jealous look on his face. I don’t like how pleased I am at the idea that he might be jealous. But he has no right to be, considering he had that skank on his lap who has so many curves her skirt and shirt couldn’t even conceal them.

“Do whatever you want.” I shrug, sifting through the songs on my laptop. The song titles are hard to read though and the longer I squint at them, the more bored and restless I get. Finally, I randomly click on one and “Make Damn Sure” by Taking Back Sunday starts playing. Then I decide to search out Stan Walice, see if I can get any information on him. Go kick his ass. It’d make me feel better. I run a search on him and add Channel 8, then squint at the screen. It’s hard to tell which one is him… they all look blurry.

“God, this shit smells good.” Jonah grins as he slips his pipe out of his pocket. He’s fairly good-looking for a pothead, and not rich like most of my regular clients. He has a beanie on his head, a fraying leather band on his wrist, and a few holes in his jeans. I have the lamp on and I can see his pupils are dilated. He takes the remainder of the weed out of my prescription bottle and packs it into his pipe. I was sort of surprised when Greyson gave it back to me, only taking a little for his pot brownies. Most people would have taken it all.

Jonah says something to me as he frees the smoke from his chest, but I only crank the music up and continue my search for information on Stan Walice. But after a while I give up because the blurriness and brightness of the screen is stinging my eyes. I move the computer aside, then dig for some gum in the nightstand drawer, but all I have is a bag of suckers. I take one out and pop it into my mouth to get rid of the nasty taste of alcohol embedded in my taste buds. Then I lie down on the bed and gaze up at the ceiling. I can’t stop thinking about that reporter and his questions. What if he shows up again? What if I can’t handle it? Am I handling it right now? There’s a calm-before-the-storm feeling inside my chest, waves ripping, white tipped, ready to rise higher as they soar for the shore. The question is where is the shore? Me? Someone else? I need to do something. I’m too unsettled.