"You're right, before West I was an innocent little virgin," I laughed. That wasn't exactly a lie.
"I saw him with you that night. The night he helped me. It was more, Ash. I might've gotten the shit beat out of me, but I could see you two."
"Through your swelled-up eyes? I doubt that."
"Either way...that's a bitch move on his part. You care about him a lot," he stated. It wasn't a question.
"I do, unfortunately. I always have..."
“You know his dad is into some bad shit, right?”
“Oliver?”
Remington nodded. “Yeah, the dude likes to appear all squeaky clean, but that family is in some shit here in Castle Grove. There’s a storm brewing. Why do you think Oliver never moved them out of the south side? He’s keeping an eye on the territory.”
No fucking way. Oliver Moretti was a businessman–a paper pusher, white collar, living life on the straight and narrow. Right?
“Even if that's true, none of that involves West. He thinks his dad is away on business all the time.”
Remington laughed and shook his head. "Well, I can't give relationship advice because you know I'm shit with those, but I will say that he's not worth hurting over. You're going to college in a few months. There will be tons of guys chasing after you. Tons of guys I'll have to scare away with my gun and my cut."
"Rem..."
"Anywaysmy point is–even though you're hurting right now, you'll get through it because we get through everything. You'll be okay, sis."
The rational advice was right, but tell that to my stubborn heart. I didn't want to be okay. I wanted West back.
"As for your stalker," Remington continued. "I'd offer to have a guy or two on watch at the house, but I'm nothing around here. Even with Dad high in the ranks. I'm a fucking prospect–basically the scum on the bottom of their boots. I'd do it myself but I can't even leave! I'm on toilet duty, and they don't let me fuck any of their whores."
"Aww you poor thing," I mocked. "You signed up for it."
"Not really..."
"What do you mean?"
"It was part of the deal to get rid of myissue."
"Oh, fuck. You still did it to yourself, dumbass."
"Ha. Ha. Very funny. And true, but still. Here, take this," he said as he took a gun from his waistband and handed it to me. I took it and kept my index finger straight on the trigger guard, Dad's safety instructions still drilled into my brain.
Only point at something you wouldn't mind shooting, and don't put your fucking finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Doesn't matter if it's not loaded or if the safety's on–Don't. Touch. The. Trigger.
"Don't you need it while cleaning the toilets and not fucking whores?" I asked as I inspected the gun, keeping it aimed away from him.
"There's plenty more where that came from. And once you're feeling better, I'm going to get you back for all that," he smiled, lighting up another cigarette.I think I figured out his new vice.
"It's a Glock so there's no safety. Just point and shoot.”
"That's comforting," I deadpanned, putting it in the black holster he handed me.
"You have to squeeze hard to get it to fire. You'll be fine. You keep that fucking thing on you at all times."
"I can't take it to school!"
"When you're home. Keep it by your bed at night, and you better fucking have it with you when you go to work," he huffed. "You're asking for trouble working at a place like that."
"I know. I'm going to quit. Mom's fucking my boss by the way, and he's an absolute psycho creep."