“That why you want her back? What a bloody catch. A woman who goes off with whoever would be a better opportunity to her,” Lucas growled. He looked just about as furious as I was, maybe even more so.
“You gave her his phone number, drove her to him when her car broke down, then told Will where to find her. Hell, when she OD’d in my flat, you told Will what hospital she was at while I was on tour. Who does that? Who?”
“A decent human being?” Lucas blinked, feigning innocence. “Will wanted to support a friend in need. You were on a bus heading south, states away. Look, this has nothing to do with Indie.”
I jumped from the bed, the energy coursing through me too much to maintain stillness. My body was tight from the long car ride and stretching it by beating Lucas sounded just about the most appealing thing I could do. “Save it, Saint Lucas. I don’t believe you. No, you can’t take Indie out. No, you can’t flirt with her, pursue her, or have sex with her. She’s mine.”
“You don’t even like her!” Lucas pushed me, and I pushed back. What the fuck did liking her have to do with anything?
“I’m still going to have her.” My taunting smile made an appearance. “But don’t worry, I’ll let you know how she tastes. After all, we’re mates, aren’t we?”
Blake jumped between us, as if on cue.
“All right, lads. That’s enough pissing testosterone at each other’s leg for one day.”
“I’m going to fuck her.” I stared at Lucas, who was grabbing at his hair, pulling it in frustration. Welcome to Random Acts of Meanness. It’s just like kindness, but for cunts. Every muscle in my body flexed as I braced myself for a brawl. Lucas’ pain was real, and it surprised me. Why did he care about New Girl so much? He barely knew her. “I’m going to fuck her and make sure she’s completely ruined for you. Now, how about that, Waitrose?”
He sucked in a breath and stormed out.
I laughed all the way to the bath and didn’t even want to drown myself when I stepped into it. Not today.
Today, I lit up a fag, stared at the ceiling, and thought about another fitting song, exhaling from my nostrils.
“Smoke on the Water.”
Jenna: Indigo. It’s Jenna.
Indie: Hi, Jenna. Please call me Indie!
Jenna: Hudson is in this chat, too. Is this okay, Indigo?
Indie: …
Indie: Yeah, absolutely.
Jenna: How’s Alex doing?
Indie: Reluctantly sober.
Hudson: Hi, Indie! I heard Alex’s been writing with you.
Jenna: ???
Hudson: He stayed up all night writing. Said he had a breakthrough. He voice-messaged me about it at four in the morning Australia time.
Jenna: He is a rock star. He doesn’t need sleep. That’s good. Indigo, tell us about it.
Indie: Nothing much to tell. He’s just asking me stuff about my life, mostly. I can’t see what he’s writing, and asking him is futile.
Hudson: Duh. Alex hates questions. Mostly rhetorical, though he is not a huge fan with straightforward ones, either. Which doesn’t bode well for me as his PA.
Jenna: Hudson—you’re blabbing. Indigo—report back. And soon.
Indie: It’s INDIE.
Hudson: Bye, Indiana.
The knock on the door startled me.
A safety pin pricked my fingertip, and I sucked the blood between my lips, rising up from my sewing corner by the window. Yeah, I was the girl who packed a mini sewing machine to a trip around the world. I always made myself dresses, because buying the kind I loved would cost a small fortune. Clara, my ex-employer, was kind enough to give me leftover fabric every time she worked on a piece. And she always had leftovers, which meant I always walked around looking like I was ready for a Victorian ball.
I opened the door expecting to see Blake. Whenever Blake had to leave the hotel room he shared with Alex, he would either call me or show up at my room while Alfie or Luc babysat the rock star, silently watching me put on my Oxfords as I grunted to myself with displeasure. This time, it wasn’t Blake. It was Lucas.
“Hey.” His hands were tucked in his front pockets and his smile was apologetic, like he knew he shouldn’t be here.
“They let you come here. That’s a huge step. Maybe I’ll be allowed to vote next.”
Lucas rubbed the back of his head, then moved his palm to his face and scrubbed his mouth.
“Blake was never the problem. He doesn’t care about much other than his phone, and maybe Jenna. Alex, on the other hand…he’s got a bit of an anger issue.”
“You don’t say.” I sighed, poking my head out the doorway to make sure Winslow wasn’t there, ready for an ambush.
“He has his reasons, Indie. Give him a chance.”
A chance at what? I decided not to ask.
“I don’t appreciate being treated like trash.”