Page 55 of Filthy Little Lies

“Okay, there was an electrical fire. They happen.”

She wipes her napkins across her mouth. “I’m just saying that there might be something going on between your mobster and Vincent.”

“You have to stop calling him that. He’s not my anything.”

“He’s the guy who took your V-card. Finally.” She flashes a smug grin. It’s gone in a flash once she raises her eyes toward the door behind me. “He’s here.”

I straighten in my seat and take a deep breath.

“Remember. No matter what the ask, no matter how pathetic he sounds, the answer is no.” She points a finger at me. “I’m serious, we are not getting tangled up with his crap again.”

“I know. I already agreed with you.”

“Well, you have a soft spot for the downtrodden. Don’t fall for his bullshit.” She lifts her face up as Tony approaches the table and throws on a plastic smile. “Tony! Hey.”

“Hey, Cassie.”

Tony is three years older than us, but he looks like he just stepped off the high school bus with his ripped jeans, stretched out T-shirt and black combat boots. His wallet is tucked into his back pocket, anchored by the chain hooked to the belt loop of his jeans.

His hair is at least washed, though it’s about two inches longer than he usually wears it, and it hasn’t seen a comb in a few days.

“Here, have my seat.” Cassie scoots out of the booth and moves to my side, pushing me further in.

“Thanks.” He looks at the mostly picked over plates. “You guys ordered already?”

“Sorry, I was starved. We can get something for you if you want.” Cassie pushes the plate of toast toward him. “You can help yourself to the toast.”

He eyes it, then shakes his head. “Naw, I’m good.”

He’s not, though. There’re dark circles under his eyes, and there’s black and purple bruising on his forearm.

He’s using again.

Cassie’s nudge with her knee tells me she’s seen the track marks, too.

“You look good,” he eyes me with narrowed lids. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been texting you for like a week.”

“You texted me twice, and I told you, I’ve been working.” I move my hands under the table.

Guilt floods me. It’s not a lie. I have been working. Gabriel left me plenty of work to do while he’s gone, but I can’t deny that I’ve been living in the lap of luxury while doing it. And by the looks of things, Tony’s been squatting in the new condo construction sites again.

“We’re here now, Tony. What’s going on?” Cassie asks straightforward. She props her elbows on the table and rests her chin in her hands. “You doing okay?”

He squeezes his eye shut a few times, like he’s trying to see through the fog of his high to make his ask.

I dig my fingernail into my palm, wishing he would just get it out.

“Yeah. I’m good. Got a new place over on Lake and Clark. I’m sharing it with a few buddies.” He nods along with himself. “Maybe I just wanted to see my sisters.”

When he smiles, my insides recoil. His teeth are rotting. He must notice our reactions because he drops his lips over his teeth.

“Tony,” I whisper.

He puts up a hand. “I’m fine. Like I said, just wanted to see my sisters.”

Cassie and I met Tony in the foster system. All three of us were housed with the same family twice. We were moved around a lot, especially after we hit middle school. I had a new family almost every year. Cassie was a little luckier; her last placement lasted the last two years of high school. But Tony started using drugs freshman year, and he started getting bounced around from foster homes to group homes to rehab facilities.

None of it took.