I set my sights on the fridge. Energy drinks sure as rain wouldn’t solve the masses of Leroy’s problems, but they would at least take some of the edge off.
I grabbed three and hurried back to the office, planting them with a thud on the table. His pack of cigarettes had fallen to the floor during our scuffle and I scooped them up. I popped the top of a can and shoved it into his hand, then lit a cigarette for him and twisted it between his flaccid lips.
“Drink. Smoke. You’ll feel better.”
Leroy nodded. The whole altercation had taken up too much time. I would barely have time to finish the cabinets if I was going to make it to Daisy’s place on time. Shit!
My mood soured as I rushed through the work I still needed to get done. I must have paused every twenty minutes to check on Leroy. Lucky for me, and for him, he was slowly stabilizing. By the time I was through and ready to go, he had fallen asleep in his chair, a cigarette still burning between his fingers. I put it out for him and covered him with a spare blanket, hoping a good night’s sleep would get him over the worst of his withdrawals. And then I breathed.
Not in relief, but not in frustration either.
Everything just kept going wrong after that. The day started out shit, and by the gods, I knew it was going to end that way, too. I lost a screwdriver, ran out of sandpaper, and spilled varnish. The extra handles I’d found on Friday had grown legs and walked away somewhere, and I’d had to steal a handle from the cabinet in my own bathroom to fix the kitchen cabinet. But I’d figured it was better to deal with the minor inconvenience than give Leroy something else to complain about.
In all honestly, I just wanted to go to bed and forget everything and anything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. But since Daisy and I still weren’t communicating by phone, I had no way out of our date without just standing her up entirely, which would only cause more problems going forward. So I finished my work a lot later than I wanted to, showered more quickly than I should have, and set out on foot for Daisy’s place.
It would have been faster to take the truck, but if I didn’t deal with this black mood it would wreck her whole night. I hoped the muggy night air and the exercise would clear my head and the walk would put enough distance between me and my problems to forget them for a while, but I wasn’t too hopeful. Monday seemed to have it out for me, and I didn’t honestly believe that it would get any better from there.
Chapter 18
I adjusted the knick-knacks on my shelf for the four thousandth time, then straightened my comforter again. Showered, shaved, and dressed in my most alluring nightgown, I still couldn’t sit still. I wanted everything to be perfect—a tall task for my shabby little room, but one I was determined to achieve.
It didn’t help my nerves that Kash was late. I’d had my music playing just slightly louder than usual for hours now. My dad was snoring away in the living room, and my mom had been in bed for an hour. I tried to distract myself with a book, but it was hopeless. I would read a word or two, then notice something out of my periphery which would look better if I moved it slightly to the left or right. Some things ended up on my closet floor after multiple adjustments still couldn’t make them look right to my eye.
I hadn’t been this nervous to show off my room since my last sleepover party when I was twelve. I didn’t know why I was now. It wasn’t like Kash had never been in there before, but maybe that was the problem. Maybe I was trying to show more growth, more maturity, than I had actually developed in the last six years. I didn’t want him walking in and seeing the same old, threadbare stuffed animals which had been on my shelves before he left. I wanted him to see me as the grown woman I was, but being with him made me feel like a teenager all over again. The fact that I still lived with my parents didn’t help matters either.
To say I was conflicted would be an understatement. Even after I forced myself to sit on my bed and read, I kept one eye on the clock. My window was open. All Kash had to do was whistle. Then I’d give him the all-clear, he’d come inside—then the moment I’d been dreaming of for months (years, if I was honest with myself) would begin. I strained my ears, but there was nothing. I re-read the same sentence five times without absorbing any of it and didn’t even care.
Where the hell was he?
Just when I’d nearly given up hope, nearly believing that he’d chickened out, I heard it. That not-quite-a-bird whistle from the empty lot beside my house. Heart pounding, I bounded to the window and hung halfway out of it, beaming with excitement. My face fell when I saw his expression.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
He shook his head, his eyes dark and distant. I touched his face and he turned his head to kiss my palm, then buried his eyes in my hand and sighed. This wouldn’t do at all. He obviously needed to talk, which was sure to disturb my parents. Even if he kept his voice low, his deep masculine tone would be alien in my parents’ house, a noise to be investigated at the end of a shotgun.
I held up a finger, silently asking him to wait there. He sighed and shuffled his feet, looking up at me
