After the crazy events of the evening, it felt good to pretend to be normal for an hour. Talking with West came so naturally. Even with the whole pussy-eating-in-the-bathroom fiasco, it didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable to be around him.
I could've done with a pair of underwear, though.
West pulled into his driveway and his house was just as dark as mine.
"Where's Bronx?"
"He's at a friend's tonight."
"Oh."
"Your mom out?"
I nodded and looked at my pathetic house. The peeling paint and shutters that were half off their hinges left much to be desired. It was dark and brooding in the night. I sucked in a breath and opened the door.
"Wait," said West. He jumped out of the car and slammed his door, coming around to meet me in the front. "Stay with me tonight."
I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice. "What? Stay with you as in..."
"I mean, not me specifically. But in my house. You're not safe in yours. Especially by yourself. You can stay in Bronx's room. I don't want you to be alone tonight." The look in his eyes made my insides melt.
I weighed my options. The thought of having a good night's sleep–a safe sleep–was too good to pass up. "Okay, but I have to go get clothes. Some weirdo stole my underwear.”
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No!" I shouted a little too quickly. There was no way I was letting West see my house, which was in a constant state of despair and disarray.
"I'll wait on the porch," he said, walking me to the door.
"I'll be quick."
I turned on every light as I walked in, still feeling uneasy over that message. For all I knew, someone was hiding inside waiting for me to come home. No one was there though, which is how it usually was.
I packed a bag and included pajamas, clothes for tomorrow, a toothbrush, and my Kindle. I was exhausted, but if for some reason I couldn’t fall asleep, reading a few chapters of a book would do the trick. Once I got hired at Aces, I splurged and bought myself an e-reader. Best decision ever.
When I went back outside, West was pacing the porch and his eyes darted around in the dark. He was on edge, which I wasn’t used to seeing with him.
"I'm ready. Let's go have a slumber party," I joked. He smiled slightly and led the way to his house.
It had been two years since I was in the place. The entire kitchen was remodeled since the last time I saw it. The cabinets were new and white and bright. The old Formica countertops were replaced by white and gray marble. Light gray tiles spanned the entirety of the floor. They had the nicest appliances I'd ever seen in a home–all stainless and industrial-sized, something you’d see in a restaurant kitchen.
"Wow."
"Dad had it remodeled last year. Right after Bronx'sincident. He thought redoing our entire house would make us happy enough to stop doing stupid shit. Because when we do stupid shit, it interrupts his work and makes him have to come home andhandle us." He laughed and led us to the living room, which looked like it was straight out of a magazine.
"This is, without a doubt, the nicest house in the south side. Talk about a bad investment on his part.”
"That's what I told him. But the guy doesn't want to move. He makes a ton of money and refuses to leave this place," West shrugged.
"That's kind of sweet, in a way."
"Sweet? Or stupid?"
"Everyone wants to get out of the south side, but he wants to make his house here better rather than leave. I don't know, to me it's sweet."
I glanced around the living room. There were no personal items in the entire place. No photos, no trophies or certificates, nothing. Just some furniture and television mounted to the wall above the gas fireplace and mantle.
"Let's not talk about my dad anymore."