wants to sweep me away, I might have to think long and hard about that offer.”
Margot set her glass down and laughed, a sincere, open, musical sound. “Mad Max Mel or Lethal Weapon Mel?”
“Mad Max, definitely.”
“Definitely.” She looked over at their boys, and her smile was positively dewy. “I think Blue looks like Mel, you know?”
Blue was a gorgeous man. A brute, and an asshole more than half the time, but a gorgeous specimen of male flesh. “Yeah, I think he does.”
Bibi felt a little worried for this girl, who seemed much more naïve than her job suggested.
~oOo~
Margot picked up a contouring brush and ran it over her fingers. Bibi snatched it out of her hand and put it back in its slot in her kit.
“Keep your grabby hands to yourself. Everythin’s clean. I swear, Margie, you’re like a toddler.”
“What’s the job?”
“Some high school dance. Doin’ a buncha girlfriends for their big night.”
“You know, when I say that sentence, it means something else entirely,” Margot giggled.
Bibi answered with a laugh of her own, but then she got serious. “Blue still kickin’ up a stink about that?” Margot wasn’t willing to stop working, and it was making Blue crazy.
The real thing making Blue crazy was that he was in love with this girl, so much that he couldn’t turn his back, even when she defied him. Bibi was enjoying the show, watching that man, with his prehistoric ideas about women, twist and writhe on the hook of love.
Less enjoyable to witness was the way he bullied the shit out of Margot, trying to force her to give him his way. The last time they’d all gone out, Margot had made a comment about how romantic she thought Hoosier and Bibi’s ink was. That comment had ignited a blazing row, ending with Blue shouting that he’d never put ink on a whore, and Margot running out in tears.
That night, at home in bed, Bibi and Hoosier had argued, too, as if they’d been infected by Blue and Margot’s virus. Hoosier had defended his friend, the one who’d called the woman he supposedly loved a whore. Bibi had had none of that bullshit, and Hoosier had ended up sleeping on the sofa—at least until Bibi hadn’t been able to stand it anymore and had gone out to get him.
“Yeah, he is,” Margot answered. “If you look at it right, though, it’s kinda romantic, isn’t it? The way he wants to take me away from all that and just take care of me.”
Bibi closed the lid on her kit and fastened the clasps. “Margot, honey, I love Blue. I’ve known him as long as I’ve known Hooj, and I know there’s a good man inside that hunk of rocks and briars. But if you’re really askin’, then I gotta say that to see the way he’s treatin’ you over this as romantic, you gotta put on about a hundred pairs of rose-colored glasses, go blind, and get a lobotomy. It ain’t romantic. He’s not ridin’ in on a white Harley and rescuin’ you, not unless you want to quit. You say you don’t want to quit, so he’s not bein’ a hero. He’s bein’ a bully.”
“He just wants to take care of me,” Margot said again. “He says it all the time. Like Hooj takes care of you, he says.”
“Hooj takes care of me by lettin’ me be me. And I do the same right back to him. That’s romantic.”
“Yeah, it is.”
~oOo~
Much later, after Bibi had come home from her makeup gig, and while she and Hoosier were curled together on the sofa, watching television and smoking a joint, Blue pounded on their door, shouting to be let in. Since Bibi was lying on top of her man, she got herself up and went to the door. As soon as she had it unlocked, Blue threw the door open and then grabbed her by the arms, forcing her back into the room.
“What the fuck did you say to her? What did you do, you stupid cunt?”
“Blue! What—”
Before she could finish, Hoosier was yanking her
Margot set her glass down and laughed, a sincere, open, musical sound. “Mad Max Mel or Lethal Weapon Mel?”
“Mad Max, definitely.”
“Definitely.” She looked over at their boys, and her smile was positively dewy. “I think Blue looks like Mel, you know?”
Blue was a gorgeous man. A brute, and an asshole more than half the time, but a gorgeous specimen of male flesh. “Yeah, I think he does.”
Bibi felt a little worried for this girl, who seemed much more naïve than her job suggested.
~oOo~
Margot picked up a contouring brush and ran it over her fingers. Bibi snatched it out of her hand and put it back in its slot in her kit.
“Keep your grabby hands to yourself. Everythin’s clean. I swear, Margie, you’re like a toddler.”
“What’s the job?”
“Some high school dance. Doin’ a buncha girlfriends for their big night.”
“You know, when I say that sentence, it means something else entirely,” Margot giggled.
Bibi answered with a laugh of her own, but then she got serious. “Blue still kickin’ up a stink about that?” Margot wasn’t willing to stop working, and it was making Blue crazy.
The real thing making Blue crazy was that he was in love with this girl, so much that he couldn’t turn his back, even when she defied him. Bibi was enjoying the show, watching that man, with his prehistoric ideas about women, twist and writhe on the hook of love.
Less enjoyable to witness was the way he bullied the shit out of Margot, trying to force her to give him his way. The last time they’d all gone out, Margot had made a comment about how romantic she thought Hoosier and Bibi’s ink was. That comment had ignited a blazing row, ending with Blue shouting that he’d never put ink on a whore, and Margot running out in tears.
That night, at home in bed, Bibi and Hoosier had argued, too, as if they’d been infected by Blue and Margot’s virus. Hoosier had defended his friend, the one who’d called the woman he supposedly loved a whore. Bibi had had none of that bullshit, and Hoosier had ended up sleeping on the sofa—at least until Bibi hadn’t been able to stand it anymore and had gone out to get him.
“Yeah, he is,” Margot answered. “If you look at it right, though, it’s kinda romantic, isn’t it? The way he wants to take me away from all that and just take care of me.”
Bibi closed the lid on her kit and fastened the clasps. “Margot, honey, I love Blue. I’ve known him as long as I’ve known Hooj, and I know there’s a good man inside that hunk of rocks and briars. But if you’re really askin’, then I gotta say that to see the way he’s treatin’ you over this as romantic, you gotta put on about a hundred pairs of rose-colored glasses, go blind, and get a lobotomy. It ain’t romantic. He’s not ridin’ in on a white Harley and rescuin’ you, not unless you want to quit. You say you don’t want to quit, so he’s not bein’ a hero. He’s bein’ a bully.”
“He just wants to take care of me,” Margot said again. “He says it all the time. Like Hooj takes care of you, he says.”
“Hooj takes care of me by lettin’ me be me. And I do the same right back to him. That’s romantic.”
“Yeah, it is.”
~oOo~
Much later, after Bibi had come home from her makeup gig, and while she and Hoosier were curled together on the sofa, watching television and smoking a joint, Blue pounded on their door, shouting to be let in. Since Bibi was lying on top of her man, she got herself up and went to the door. As soon as she had it unlocked, Blue threw the door open and then grabbed her by the arms, forcing her back into the room.
“What the fuck did you say to her? What did you do, you stupid cunt?”
“Blue! What—”
Before she could finish, Hoosier was yanking her
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