Page 74 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

filling the spaces between.

My head falls back against the leather seat, and I exhale, like I’ve been holding my breath.

He inhales, like he can’t catch his.

Then palm to palm,

flesh meets flesh,

we press together, holding,

locking us in place.

Sink. Sigh. Stay.

I squeeze.

He squeezes back,

then lifts his fingers off his lips,

mouthing slow—I’m not leavin’.

With those helpless, Sonnysick eyes.

But it doesn’t feel reassuring.

It feels threatening as fuck.

Does he mean the ride? The night?

Is he saying he’d rather burn alive in this mess than climb out of it without me?

And I’m too scared to ask.

So I pretend the thing in my chest is just another beating heart and not a ticking clock.

I keep my hand in his.

Until the car stops.

Until the seatbelt clicks off.

Mickey’s inside behind his desk,

talking to a visitor.

Andrew swings the door open, gets out,

then stops.

He turns to me. “Lemme walk in with you and talk to Mick real quick.” He glances back at Mickey through the glass doors, then to me again. “He’s gonna flip if you walk in lookin’ like that. I can’t have him thinkin’ shit⁠—”

A winter gust shoves at me,

my split lip pulsing.

I turn away from the wind, hold my hair back, then notice someone in the shadows in the garden, a cherry from a cigarette burning red in the dark.