mumble.
“I mean it,” he says. “She’s so obvious. Blond hair, big tits. It’s really lame. Even if her tits are pretty nice.”
I groan.
“I’m kidding! They’re just mediocre.”
“Screw off already,” I say.
He sighs. “Okay, forget about those guys. You’re much better off without them. Trust me.”
“Yeah,” Paige says cautiously, obviously reluctant to agree with him about anything. “He’s right.”
I straighten, not because I believe any of the crap they’re feeding me, but because I’m sick of being the token crying girl at the party.
“Right then, so we’re all done?” Bishop claps his hands. “Good. Been a little anxious to get on with the next portion of the evening.”
“really?” I ask. “You looked pretty comfortable with Amy back there.”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah. Right.” I wipe my nose on my arm. “So listen—I’m tired. I want to go home. It’s time for you to talk.”
“I will. Once you take me to the Hollywood sign.”
“What the …” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, no Hollywood sign.”
“Well, okay, Mount Lukens, then, but I thought the sign would be—”
“No! We’re not going anywhere, okay? I’m sick of—”
“Look. You want answers, I’m ready to give them to you”—he glances at Paige—“and your little friend here, I guess. But we’re going to need privacy.”
“And the only place to get privacy is at the Hollywood sign?” I shake my head hard. “Abso-freaking-lutely not.”
“You okay to drive or should I?” he asks.
I jump in front of him before he can open the driver’s-side door. “Wait a minute, here. We’re not driving to some remote wooded area so you can kill us both and then leave our remains for animals to eat.”
He pulls a disgusted face. “You’re a sick woman, Indigo.”
“That was pretty gross,” Paige agrees.
“I’d be sure to bury your remains where no animal would ever find them,” Bishop says.
Paige gasps, which makes Bishop burst into laughter.
“Kidding! Now can we get on with this?” He places a hand over his heart. “I promise not to kill you.”
“Why should I bother?” I ask. “Why not just drive you right to the police station and tell them I have the guy who broke into Mom’s shop?”
“This again? You don’t think I did that, or you would’ve called the cops ages ago. Now let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
“Ind!”
My spine straightens. I look over the hood of the car and see Devon pulling his shirt over his head as he stumbles down Jarrod’s front steps.
“Ind, wait, I can explain.”
“Let me guess,” Bishop says. “You were just trying to jump over her and couldn’t quite make it.” He laughs, and Paige slaps him so hard he grabs at his arm.
I grapple for the door handle and slip into the front seat, gunning the engine. Bishop and Paige scramble to get inside the car before I peel away. Devon calls my name, but I don’t stop. I don’t even look in the rearview mirror.
12
S omewhere between Wilshire and Franklin, I notice that the faster the wind slaps hair across my face and the more blurred the palm trees bordering the road become, the easier it is to block thoughts of Devon and Bianca from my mind. The speedometer needle vibrates around eighty miles per hour. I’d go faster if my throwback of a car would allow it.
“Mind slowing down?” Paige asks from the backseat. “I think I’m going to vomit.” One glance in the rearview mirror tells me she isn’t exaggerating: her pale skin has turned a sickly shade of green, and she’s clutching the Oh Shit handle like a life preserver. Bishop, on the other hand, is slouching in his seat, tapping out some secret tune no one else can hear on his thighs.
“It’s all right.” He looks out the window. “She’s just pulling a Bella.”
“A what?”
“A Bella. You know—guy does you wrong, so you punish him by practically killing yourself.”
“What?” I bark a laugh. “That is so not
“I mean it,” he says. “She’s so obvious. Blond hair, big tits. It’s really lame. Even if her tits are pretty nice.”
I groan.
“I’m kidding! They’re just mediocre.”
“Screw off already,” I say.
He sighs. “Okay, forget about those guys. You’re much better off without them. Trust me.”
“Yeah,” Paige says cautiously, obviously reluctant to agree with him about anything. “He’s right.”
I straighten, not because I believe any of the crap they’re feeding me, but because I’m sick of being the token crying girl at the party.
“Right then, so we’re all done?” Bishop claps his hands. “Good. Been a little anxious to get on with the next portion of the evening.”
“really?” I ask. “You looked pretty comfortable with Amy back there.”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah. Right.” I wipe my nose on my arm. “So listen—I’m tired. I want to go home. It’s time for you to talk.”
“I will. Once you take me to the Hollywood sign.”
“What the …” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, no Hollywood sign.”
“Well, okay, Mount Lukens, then, but I thought the sign would be—”
“No! We’re not going anywhere, okay? I’m sick of—”
“Look. You want answers, I’m ready to give them to you”—he glances at Paige—“and your little friend here, I guess. But we’re going to need privacy.”
“And the only place to get privacy is at the Hollywood sign?” I shake my head hard. “Abso-freaking-lutely not.”
“You okay to drive or should I?” he asks.
I jump in front of him before he can open the driver’s-side door. “Wait a minute, here. We’re not driving to some remote wooded area so you can kill us both and then leave our remains for animals to eat.”
He pulls a disgusted face. “You’re a sick woman, Indigo.”
“That was pretty gross,” Paige agrees.
“I’d be sure to bury your remains where no animal would ever find them,” Bishop says.
Paige gasps, which makes Bishop burst into laughter.
“Kidding! Now can we get on with this?” He places a hand over his heart. “I promise not to kill you.”
“Why should I bother?” I ask. “Why not just drive you right to the police station and tell them I have the guy who broke into Mom’s shop?”
“This again? You don’t think I did that, or you would’ve called the cops ages ago. Now let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
“Ind!”
My spine straightens. I look over the hood of the car and see Devon pulling his shirt over his head as he stumbles down Jarrod’s front steps.
“Ind, wait, I can explain.”
“Let me guess,” Bishop says. “You were just trying to jump over her and couldn’t quite make it.” He laughs, and Paige slaps him so hard he grabs at his arm.
I grapple for the door handle and slip into the front seat, gunning the engine. Bishop and Paige scramble to get inside the car before I peel away. Devon calls my name, but I don’t stop. I don’t even look in the rearview mirror.
12
S omewhere between Wilshire and Franklin, I notice that the faster the wind slaps hair across my face and the more blurred the palm trees bordering the road become, the easier it is to block thoughts of Devon and Bianca from my mind. The speedometer needle vibrates around eighty miles per hour. I’d go faster if my throwback of a car would allow it.
“Mind slowing down?” Paige asks from the backseat. “I think I’m going to vomit.” One glance in the rearview mirror tells me she isn’t exaggerating: her pale skin has turned a sickly shade of green, and she’s clutching the Oh Shit handle like a life preserver. Bishop, on the other hand, is slouching in his seat, tapping out some secret tune no one else can hear on his thighs.
“It’s all right.” He looks out the window. “She’s just pulling a Bella.”
“A what?”
“A Bella. You know—guy does you wrong, so you punish him by practically killing yourself.”
“What?” I bark a laugh. “That is so not
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