Toxic Bad Boy Part 18

"Yeah?" I asked impatiently, regretting briefly dating a girl I'd have to deal with on a professional basis.

"It's really over?"

"It never started," I stated bluntly, walking away from her.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"There are things like love and hate and jealousy that are just going to be there forever."

-Shiloh Fernandez CALEB.

"So you and Gianna are back together?" my mom asked as she ate her bagel before heading off to work. She wore a business suit, letting me know her client today must be important. Usually she dressed more casually in her flowy bohemian skirts and dresses. She'd even pulled her black hair up into a sleek updo.

"Yep," I replied, taking a bite of my omelet.

She opened her mouth to speak then snapped it shut with an audible click of her teeth.

"Just say it," I said, rolling my eyes.

Finishing off her bagel, she rinsed off her plate in the sink. "I just wonder if the relationship is good for the two of you."

I set down my fork, not liking what she'd suggested. "Meaning?" Gianna and I had been back together for five days and I thought it was better than good.

She shrugged one shoulder, turning to face me again. "It just seems as if the relationship may be a little...toxic."

I sc.r.a.ped the rest of my omelet in the trash and brushed past her to rinse my plate, spraying water onto the counter in my annoyance. "You can hardly blame me or Gianna for Josh attacking her."

My mom crossed her arms in a move that indicated her intention of digging in for an argument. "No, but the drama with her mom which led up to the attack, Julie filing for divorce and following through with it, plus you two running away together for a few days were all cause for concern. After all that, you ended up in youth corrections for eight months only to be jerked around by Gianna when you got out." She let out an irritated huff at the end of her tirade.

"It was my choice to beat the c.r.a.p out of Josh, mom."

"I know that, but it wouldn't have happened if you weren't in love with her."

"You said you liked Gianna."

"It's not that I don't like her, she's a sweet girl, but together you two may be toxic."

"I put Claudette's ex in the hospital and I wasn't in love with her."

"What about Gianna breaking up with you for that other boy?"

"She wasn't jerking me around," I insisted, taking a deep breath before continuing. If it were anyone else, I'd likely tell them to shove it, but I felt my was owed an explanation for everything I'd put her through. "She was only pretending to be with him to discourage me."

My mom's mouth dropped open. "Why would she do that?"

d.a.m.n, I didn't want to spell it out. Emphasizing my words, I said, "She was beaten and s.e.xually a.s.saulted with a flashlight. She didn't think she could handle having a boyfriend after that."

That shut my mom up, her face revealing guilt. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so do you think we can get off the subject of my girlfriend being violated?"

I didn't wait for her answer, storming out of the kitchen in a rage. It still killed me to think of that happening to my precious girl. Josh would get out once he reached adulthood and I'd be waiting. But this time I'd be smarter about it and catch him alone in the dark somewhere, just as he'd done with Gianna.

Taking a sketchpad out of my nightstand, I grabbed one of my drawing pencils. I flipped to a blank page and began sketching out the shape of the most beautiful eyes I'd ever gazed into.

After twenty minutes, I was putting the finishing touches on her eyebrows. My text alert beeped and I picked up my phone from its cradle.

Just got to the clinic. Bringing Chance to dad's house later so my mom can have a break.

I quickly sent a reply. Meet you there.

For the past few days I'd soaked up as much time with her as possible. I still had to finish one last painting, which was why we hadn't hung out last night and I'd ended up spending the night at my mom's apartment.

Gianna drove to her mom's yesterday so she could go with them to a doctor's appointment this morning. I figured they'd be there at least an hour and I'd wait two before driving to her dad's house.

Okay, she texted.

How does pizza sound for lunch?

Delicious! She was such a dork sometimes.

See you then.

Calmed down after a dose of her, I put away the sketchpad and headed to my mom's art studio to finish the painting. It was of a downtown scene with a group of breakers forming a circle around one wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. The other breakers all wore the same stereotypical prison jumpsuit. We hadn't worn the bright color at the youth corrections I'd been locked up at, but if I'd made them blue the group in the painting would like janitors instead of prisoners.

I thought it'd be interesting to have them dancing out on the streets of Denver, as if they'd recently escaped or been released and were celebrating their newfound freedom. Pa.s.sing pedestrians skirted around them in obvious fear and the backdrop to the scene was a Starbucks and a Subway. A homeless man sat against the wall nearby, watching the dancing as pa.s.sersby also avoided him.

I sifted through the paintbrushes, choosing a smaller one to put on the finishing touches on some of their faces. Jim would love this painting. I'd let him name a few of the others, deciding he knew better what would draw in art buyers.

Painting was enjoyable for me, but it was hard to ignore the money it could potentially make me. If this didn't work out, I'd find another way to support Gianna. She said her trust fund was smaller than her dad's but in our life together I wanted to be the one to provide for her, not money from her grandparents.

While she was in college, I didn't want her to work unless she needed the experience, like the internship Norah had. Plus, she wouldn't get her trust fund for another decade. Decent apartments downtown or in Boulder, if that's what she decided, were both expensive. I'd need a lot of money for several years of rent.

An hour later of steady handiwork and it was completed. I'd let it dry and pick it up on Monday to take to the gallery.

Dialing the number of a pizza place I had in my contacts, I ordered my girl's favorite pizza and another one with just cheese for Chance.

GIANNA.

My dad had given me money to do the grocery shopping. I stood in the frozen food section, scanning for Chance's favorite chicken nuggets when she approached me.

"Are you Gianna?"

I whirled around to see a short girl with black hair. "Yes?" Weird, I didn't recognize her.

"You're Caleb's girlfriend?"

"Yes," I repeated, figuring some girl labeling me as his girlfriend equaled an unhappy past hook up.

"I'm Christina, Norah's roommate," she said as if I should know either of those names. At my purposely blank look, she continued, her att.i.tude altering as she became more confident. "Anyways, I just thought you should know they dated while you two were broken up and Norah's hurt that he dumped her to get back together with you."

"What are you talking about?"

"They really liked each other and Norah says he was really into it, if you know what I mean, but he broke up with her last Sat.u.r.day."

Last Sat.u.r.day Caleb and I had been back together for two days. "Caleb has never had any girlfriend but me."

"Maybe they didn't make if official, but dating and getting naked sort of implies it," she said sarcastically with a roll of her dark eyes.

Dating and getting naked. Wow, was that a knife entering my gut or this helpful b.i.t.c.h's sharp claws?

"Why are you telling me this?"

Her smile turned sly. "We girls gotta watch out for each other."

Right, I was totally feeling her sisterly love. "How the heck did you even know who I was?"

She shrugged. "Internet and social media. I'm good with computers."

Funny, she didn't look like a hacker, but what did I know? I grabbed the handle of my cart, smiling with fake sweetness. "Thanks for the heads up, but I'm not stupid enough to believe some girl who stalked me to the grocery store to impart the information."

With that, I wheeled my cart the h.e.l.l out of there. I'd find Chance's chicken nuggets and everything else on my list at another store.

The day was already c.r.a.ppy and now I stood staring down at the mess on the garage's concrete floor. Just great. The spaghetti sauce that was meant for tonight was splattered along with broken chunks of gla.s.s.

First a strange girl tells me Caleb had another girlfriend while we were broken up for two short weeks and that he screwed around with her and now I had to plan something else for dinner.

After putting away the rest of the groceries, I took paper towels, a trash can and a broom into the garage to clean up. Chance was with my mom today and I'd be alone until either my dad or Caleb showed up.

And I really wanted to speak with Caleb.

I was not a chef, so the options were limited. Spaghetti had become a once-a-week event. Breakfast for dinner was also a regular menu item. I had all the stuff for fettuccine alfredo so that plus frozen garlic bread I could pop in the oven was the meal I decided on.

I wouldn't need to start dinner for another forty-five minutes, so I grabbed the mailbox key off the entry table and walked to the mailbox. Dialing Caleb on my way, I got his voicemail. He was hanging out with Dante this afternoon but planned to come over for dinner. I didn't leave a message.

Retrieving the mail from our slot, I locked the mailbox and sorted through it as I went back to the house. All of it was generically addressed junk mail or bills for my dad except a large yellow envelope with my name on it.

The envelope looked official, with Gianna Thorpe printed on it and the name of some lawyer's office as the sender. It would round out a c.r.a.ppy day to find out I was being sued or something equally as bad. Could a seventeen-year-old be sued?

Leaving my dad's mail and the junk mail on the front table, I tore open the manila envelope as I entered the living room. The only contents were a sheet of binder paper. Unfolding it, I read the note.

Written in thick penciled letters was, Ha! ha! Got you, b.i.t.c.h. Can't wait to f.u.c.k you up.

The single sheet of paper floated onto the coffee table.

My cell phone beeped from my pocket, but I stood staring at the ugly words staring up at me.

Got you, b.i.t.c.h.

Got you, b.i.t.c.h.

Suddenly, all I could see was Josh's face contorted in rage and his angry words, You're a cold b.i.t.c.h.

I screamed, running to the front door to double check the deadbolt. From there I made sure all the doors and windows on the bottom floor were secure. Upstairs, I locked my bedroom door, then went into the bathroom and locked it, also. Hiding in the shower seemed like a good idea. I should have thought to s.n.a.t.c.h Chance's baseball bat from his bedroom. Or a really big knife like on a scary movie.

Got you, b.i.t.c.h.

With shaky hands I called my dad's cell. He answered with me on speakerphone. "I'm almost home."

"Dad! Someone wants to kill me. I think it might be Josh!" I felt a panic attack coming on and struggled to fight it.

"Are you home?" he pressed.

"Yeah," I told him between deep breaths. "I'm in my bathroom."

"Is someone in the house?"

"I don't think so," I told him.

"Listen, I'm going to hang up and I want you to call 911."

I pictured cops showing up at the house and me handing over the threatening letter, followed by a lecture on wasting their time.

"It was a letter," I informed my dad.

"A letter?" he asked, his voice steadier. "I'm turning onto our street now."

"Um, yeah, a letter from someone who wants to hurt me."

My dad exhaled loudly into his phone. "d.a.m.n, Gianna, you scared the c.r.a.p out of me."

Yep, a super c.r.a.ppy day, like top ten list.

"Do you still want me to call the police?" I asked.

"I'm pulling into the garage. Just in case, I'll come up to get you."