Page 82 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B
“What shit?” I snap.
He throws a finger between us. “The two’a you. It’s already blowin’ up in your face. You think Jersey’s gonna sign up for celibacy? Wait ‘til he finds out his dick ain’t gettin’ wet. Let’s see how long that fairy tale lasts.”
I go to speak—
“Nah,” Andrew cuts in, eyes narrowed on Ben. “Don’t explain shit to him.”
My mouth snaps shut, corking whatever I was gonna say. (Which is a mystery to me, so it’s probably for the best.)
Ben lets out a short, ugly laugh. “Damn.” His chin juts toward Andrew. “Jersey here got you on a fuckin’ leash?” His fingers flick toward the fridge. “You ask him for permission before addin’ another to the roster?”
Andrew glances back at the fridge, where headshots from the interviews are taped up.
Shit.
I slap the counter, the sound cracking the air, and the sting climbs fast up my arm, pain joining the throb already pulsing across my face. “You’re done, Ben. Go take a fuckin’ walk. Hit up your boxin’ joint. Go punch a bag or some shit. I don’t care where you go. Just get outta my face.”
Ben sets one elbow on the opposite side of the counter. “What—didn’t wanna clue him in, huh?” He’s still throwing words like cigarette butts, lit and flicked, aiming for skin. “Tellin' you right now, if this kid fucks everything? Don’t come crawlin’ back to me, Baby. Once you close that door, it’s shut for good.”
I’m all locked up, throat full of splinters.
Ben grins, stepping back, arms up like he just knocked somebody out. “You’re burnin’ it all down for him, Baby.” He lifts a finger, spins it slow in the air. “Take a good look around so you know what you’re losin’. ‘Cause this is the part where it all turns to shit.”
He walks backward out of the living room and into the hall, leaving a trail of words to get into my head.
Behind me, Andrew’s gripping the edge of the counter, staring at the ground. Every muscle in his body’s tense.
Ben’s bedroom door slams.
Then the house goes silent.
And my heart’s standing there, looking up at me with something to say, but she doesn’t wanna be the one to say it.
I close my eyes,
lean in to hear her whisper.
Then—
“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.”
I don’t know how long I stand here, rattled.
Ten seconds? Thirty? An hour?
Ben’s words are secondhand smoke.
When Jersey leaves your ass…
You’re burnin’ it all down for him, Baby…
Every syllable chokes like ash—
hot, dirty, coating the well of my throat.
I already know how this story ends, Ben.
It ends with a pack of regrets
