The waitress dropped a plate of biscuits on the table and took Naomi’s and Kyle’s drink orders. As soon as she left I grabbed a biscuit and proceeded to stuff it with butter.
“What’s your weekend looking like?” Naomi asked me as she followed suit.
“Can you believe I actually have it off?” I said around butter and biscuit. “I think this is the first weekend in about a zillion years that I haven’t even been on call.”
Her smile widened. “Cool. I talked Kyle into going to Paintball Palisades on Saturday if I can find worthy teammates.” Her gaze raked Marcus, Philip, and me. “Or opponents.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair, brow puckering. “Paintball, huh? That sounds like it could be interesting.” Beneath the table he found my hand and gave it a light squeeze. I squeezed it right back. Marcus was a beast at paintball, but he obviously didn’t want the others to know. A little hustle action? I hid a smile. His secret was safe with me.
“Y’all would wipe the floor with me,” I said, not lying one bit. “Me no have grunt grunt combat skills.” My jiu jitsu sensei could attest to that. Sadly, I would most likely never become a zombie ninja.
Naomi leveled a stern glare at me. “No combat skills? I’ve seen you hold your own a time or two for realsies.”
Marcus squeezed my hand again. “Plus, Angel’s getting to be a pretty good shot,” he surprised me by saying. “She might be harder to wipe the floor with than you think.”
“What about you?” Kyle said, looking over at Philip with a slight smile of challenge. “I have some floors that need wiping. Are you a man or a mop?”
Philip simply shrugged. “Haven’t you heard? I’m an invalid. Damaged. I doubt I’m worth your time.” Yet his eyes said the opposite.
Kyle leaned forward a few inches, eyes still on Philip. “You’ll have Angel and Marcus to protect you . . . for a few seconds.”
Marcus stiffened, and I tightened my grip on his hand. I knew—or rather hoped—that Kyle hadn’t intended to insult Marcus by implying he’d pose as little threat as I would.
Unfortunately, Kyle seemed unaware, as did Philip. “That’s all I’ll need,” he responded, also leaning forward.
Tension vibrated through Marcus’s body, even though he kept his face composed. More composed than I’d have been in a similar position. Shit. I caught Naomi’s eye. Her smile was fixed, and a wince hovered just below the surface. She knew, even if the other two men were oblivious.
I abruptly grabbed the neckline of my shirt, pulled it out and peered down at my chest. “Oh my god! I think I just sprouted a chest hair from all the excess testosterone at the table.”
Naomi let out a laugh, bless her, and Kyle and Philip broke their eye contact and sat back in their seats. Philip glanced my way, and I saw the shift in his expression when he noted the tension in Marcus. He opened his mouth to speak, but I gave a micro-shake of my head. Saying anything now would only make it worse.
To my undying relief the waitress arrived at that moment to bring drinks and take food orders. Marcus shifted his attention to the waitress and rolled his eyes as usual when I ordered the Philly Cheesesteak without bell peppers. Everyone else found that amusing as well, despite my insistence that bell peppers were nasty, and the tension leached away. Naomi made small talk about some innocuous and forgettable topic, and all of us relaxed into her banter. She had an inexplicable talent for putting zombies at ease, sometimes enough to spill their deepest secrets. That, paired with her natural intuition, made her one sharp cookie. By the time the waitress delivered food everyone seemed to be a shitload less stressed.
Kyle’s phone buzzed as the waitress took our orders for pie. He answered with a low, “Griffin,” then listened in silence for almost half a minute during which time the waitress gave up on him and flounced off in impatience. “Got it,” he finally said, hung up and looked over at Naomi. “We need to go.”
She dug money out of her purse and dropped some bills on the table. “Duty calls,” she said with a smile as she and Kyle stood. “Y’all play nice, and yes, you can have my pie.”
“If you’re going back to Tahiti, I don’t want to know,” I told her.
She simply laughed, tucked her arm through Kyle’s and threaded through the tables to the exit.
Philip cleared his throat softly. “I should probably be on my way as well,” he said, also dropping money to cover his share. I was pretty sure he didn’t have anywhere he needed to be, but he was gracious enough to recognize his third wheel status. “I’ll catch you later, Angel,” he said. I responded with something similar, and after giving Marcus a parting guy-nod thing, he departed.
Since people were waiting for tables, Marcus and I didn’t linger much longer—only enough to scarf down pie, pay the bill, and overtip the waitress with the excess the others had left. By the time we stepped outside the sun had dropped below the buildings, and the western sky glowed with orange and purple. The temperature had dropped as well, and I hugged my arms around myself.
“Sorry that turned out kind of weird,” I said as we walked down the street to where my car was parked.
“It’s okay.” His expression was a mix of tired and resigned, but he dropped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close in reassurance. “It helped me clear out some doubts.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean? Doubts about what?”
He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I’m quitting the sheriff’s office.”
That stopped me in my tracks, but once I had a second or two to process his statement, I realized it wasn’t all that surprising. “Okay,” I said, walking again. “I know you didn’t want to be a cop forever, but do you have something else planned?”
A smile touched his mouth. “I got accepted into law school.”
Squealing, I threw my arms around him. “Oh my god! Law school? Marcus, that’s fantastic!” I knew he’d wanted to go to law school close to a decade ago, but he put that on hold and became a cop when his mother developed breast cancer.
He hugged me close. “I probably should’ve gone that direction a few years ago, but then I’d have missed getting together with you.”
“I didn’t even know you were applying.” I grinned up at him. “I’m so happy for you! Wow, law school!”
“It’s only in New Orleans, which means we don’t have to move a long distance away,” he continued, smiling. “I know you’d hate to be far from your dad and friends.”
The fuck? My grin disintegrated, and I pulled back. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I sent it to voicemail without even looking at it. “Wait. Marcus, don’t you think we should discuss moving?” Hell, we weren’t even officially living together. There’d been some preliminary “wouldn’t it be cool if” discussion, but that was about it.
“Okay, I guess I jumped the gun on that, but I figured since it was just to New Orleans . . .” He sighed. “Sorry.”
My dismay climbed higher. New Orleans was over two hours away. This wasn’t as if he’d suggested a move across town. “Marcus, I love you,” I said, “but I don’t want to move. I’m just starting to get my life figured out.”
Exhaling, he pulled me close again. “Okay, okay. Sorry. We’ll make it work. I don’t think two hours even qualifies as a long distance relationship.”
I hugged him back, but suddenly it was as if he’d left a box of bait open and all the thoughts and worries and uncertainties began to worm their way out. Law school was a big deal, yet he’d never even told me he was applying. And for him to simply assume we’d move in together—in a different city, no less—with zero warning or discussion . . .
A weird fatigue settled on me. The same relationship problems kept popping up, over and over. We were in a rut, and while it was usually a pleasant one, the banks only seemed to be getting steeper. I’d been in a rut with my ex-boyfriend, Randy, as well, one I’d stayed in for
almost four years before being turned into a zombie shocked me out of it. The nature of that rut had been different, consisting more of the habit of being together and a lack of desire to change what worked well enough most of the time. Yet, weirdly enough, even though my time with Randy had been unhealthy on a number of levels, I knew there was no way in hell he’d have ever made a big decision for me like this.
“I don’t want a long distance relationship,” I heard myself say as my thoughts finally settled.
“It wouldn’t be,” he insisted. “Sure, we wouldn’t see each other as often, but . . .” He trailed off, and it was obvious he didn’t want a long distance relationship either. “Angel,” he said, obviously torn. “I need to do this, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“I know,” I said, “and I want you to go to law school and kick all the ass. But I think that if we try and do the long distance thing, it’ll fall apart. Us, I mean.” I kissed him lightly. “I think we would do better being the absolute best of friends than we would being long distance boyfriend and girlfriend.” Bizarre relief bloomed within me. A way out of the rut?
Shock spread over his face. “Angel—”
“Marcus,” I said quietly, “I don’t ever want us to get to the point where we break up and never want to see each other again. I don’t ever want to not be around you. Does that make sense?”
“I wish to hell it didn’t.” He let out a heavy breath and tightened his arms around me. “I think I’ve just been dumped,” he murmured.
Hugging him close, I leaned my head against his chest. “No. You’ve been gently placed on a soft cushion so that you’ll still be all shiny and pretty when it’s time to play with you again.”
Marcus snorted. “Better be a damn nice pillow.”
“It’s an awesome pillow,” I assured him.
“I believe you.” He hugged me tighter before releasing me. “You still want a ride home, or do you want to try and get your car fixed now?”
“Crap, I forgot about my car.” I wrinkled my nose. “A ride home, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to deal with the car in the dark, and no one’s going to mess with it here.”
Taking my hand again, he walked me down the street to his truck. “This is going to take some getting used to,” he said, glancing down at our hands before releasing me and opening the truck door.
I’d taken his hand just as automatically. Best friends probably didn’t do that sort of thing. “It would’ve been a big change either way,” I said, hating the question in my voice.
He gave me a hand as I climbed in. “They say change is good.” He managed a wry smile. “I’m not so sure.”
“If you don’t change you die,” I replied glibly.
“No chance of that.” He kept the smile, but I knew him well enough to see how hard he was working to keep the hurt from showing. “Let’s get you home,” he said and closed the door for me.
Chapter 7
Marcus pulled into my driveway, put the truck in park and killed the engine.
“I guess this is it,” he said, voice low and rough.
I gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again,” I pointed out. “We’re still best buds. And I’m not giving you back your mix tapes or anything.”
A brief chuckle escaped him. “I’ve never in my life made a mix tape. Don’t lay that on me.” He let out a long breath. “This isn’t at all how I pictured things going.”
I mirrored his sigh. “I know, but you keep forgetting to let me be a part of drawing that picture.”
“I get it. I really do,” he said. “I’m glad we’re still friends.”
“I am too,” I said, though I wondered how much he really did get it. It wasn’t the first time this issue had cropped up. At the same time, I was glad he still wanted to be friends. That was way better than pissed and distant, which would have made the break up a billion times harder. “Marcus, I know this is gonna sound pompous and preachy, but I’m really glad you’re taking control of your life and going to law school.”
“Uncle Pietro has been after me to do it for ages.” A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Looks like we’ve come full circle. A year ago I was the one getting you to take control of your life.”
I snorted and filed away the fact that Pietro had been nagging him. Another thing he hadn’t bothered to share with me. “I’m not sure me telling you to go to law school after you’d already been accepted compares to everything you did for me, but I’ll take the credit if you’re going to offer it.”
He laughed. “Sure, what the hell.”
“Do you know where you’re going to live?”
“I’ll drive to the city tomorrow and start hunting apartments,” he said.
Without me. “I think you’re going to fucking shine,” I said.
He leaned over and kissed me, chaste and sweet enough to make tears spring to my eyes. “So will you—”
Whatever else he was going to say got cut off as the truck door on my side flew open. Yanked open, I realized as I let out a stupid girly shriek and jerked back against Marcus. “What the shit?” I yelled, bringing my legs up to kick out at the attacker, even though all I could see was a looming shadow.
Marcus grabbed his gun from the console and was out the door in a flash to draw down on the assailant. “Back off!”
“Wait!” I yelled, then dropped my legs and leaned forward. Holy shit, it was Philip, face flushed and one hand gripping the truck door so hard I was shocked he didn’t dent it. “Jesus, dude, are you all right?”
Philip’s lips pulled back from his teeth, and he shot a hand toward me, even as survival instinct had me scrabbling back toward the driver’s side door. He got hold of my ankle for a second, then released it and staggered back several feet, hands held out as if for balance, and face pinched with an expression I knew too well as his splitting-headache face.
Marcus came around the front of the truck to my door. “Angel, you okay?” he asked, continuing to cover Philip.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I quickly slid out of the truck. “But something’s wrong with him.”
“No. No . . . nothing’s wrong,” Philip said, fighting to straighten. His throat worked as he swallowed, and then he plastered a sickly smile onto his face. “I was . . . worried about you. I called you, but you didn’t answer.” He held up his left arm, and the dim light from the truck revealed a mottled patch of skin above his elbow. “I, uh, had a reaction. I put a call in to Dr. Nikas, but I was worried about you.”
Marcus frowned and lowered his gun. Dread rising, I yanked my sleeve up. “Aw, crap.” My arm held a discolored spot in a matching location, and when I poked it with my finger I found it grossly spongy. Pre-rot. But how could I be rotting when I wasn’t hungry for brains?
Worry bloomed on Marcus’s face as his gaze shifted back and forth between us. “What does this mean?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Philip said, shaking his head. “I overreacted because Angel didn’t answer, that’s all.”
He’s covering. He needed to talk to me on my own, and he knew there was no way Marcus would leave if he knew Philip hadn’t exactly been himself when he came at me a few minutes earlier. On top of that, Philip obviously didn’t want Marcus to be jealous. Perfectly natural for a nice guy like him, especially since he didn’t know we’d just broken up.
A pang went through me. Broken up, and Marcus was moving away, at least for a couple of years. Marcus and I had been through a number of ups and downs over the past year and had broken up and gotten back together more than once. But he’d always been around. Near. He’d made me a zombie, saved my life. And he’d been a part of that life ever since.
“I feel perfectly fine,” I told him. “What did Dr. Nikas say?”
“I left a message,” Philip said. “I’m waiting for him to call me back.”
“I’d like to hear what he has to say when he does.”
Marcus twitched his hand toward mine then pulled it back. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Totally,” I reassured him.
His eyes went to Philip and stayed there for several seconds, no doubt assessing and deciding whether it was safe to leave me with him. Philip looked perfectly fine now, though a little pale.
Marcus drew a breath and released it. He was the third wheel now, I realized with a sharp pang, and he knew it.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “If that’s all right, that is.”
“It is,” I replied. “Thanks for the ride home.”
He leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek, cast a hard look at Philip that clearly held all sorts of Hurt her and I will destroy you type messages, and then turned away, climbed into his truck, and drove off.
I waited until his tail lights disappeared around the bend of the road, then rounded on Philip. “What the hell was that?” I demanded.
Philip exhaled. “I came by to see if you were home yet. I didn’t see your car, so I called, but you didn’t answer. I decided to wait a bit to see if you’d come by.” He lifted his chin toward the end of the driveway. “You pulled in, and I had every intention of waiting until Marcus was gone, and then—” His face lost all color. “It was like I was watching myself go and yank the truck door open,” he continued. “No way to stop it and no idea what was coming next. Like being a backseat passenger in my own body.” He shook his head. “Then it was gone. Left me dizzy and with a headache like the one at the lab this morning, but worse. The headache’s almost gone now, at least.”
Well, that sounded like all sorts of suck. “What about this?” I asked and pointed to the blotch on my arm. “You don’t have any brains on you?”
How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back Page 7
