Page 16 of Angels Fall

“Easy there, Siegfried,” says Evan.

“Don’t call me that, please,” retorts Robert.

“Roy is the one who got attacked by the tiger. Be glad you’re Siegfried,” Evan fires back and Robert gives up. Evan turns to me again.

“Okay, fine,” he says. “Go. Do whatever you want. But just… just make sure you’re taking care. Okay? This is… you’re in the middle of an incredibly intense situation. Just take it slow. K?”

“I will,” I say. “I will take it slow.”

He eyes me with skepticism.

“Promise,” I promise.

The speedometer in the Defender says I’m going a hundred and fifty. I could probably push it another thirty miles per hour or so, but I don’t wanna be reckless.

I’m racing through the desert to the only place I can think to go. The strip club. The place where I met my angel. My angel who turned out to be called Scarlett. Scarlett who turned out to be Maddie. Maddie who I fucked and when I did caused me to feel safe and happy like I was finally coming home. Because she is. My home. In every way that can be understood.

I know there’s like no chance at all that she’s at Pete’s. Why would she be? Why in the world would she ever go back to that place? It’s like returning to the scene of a crime for her, I’ll bet. But still. Maybe. Just maybe. And besides, I don’t know where else to go.

I push down on the accelerator. I can’t get there soon enough. My heart is beating. Fast. Like it’s going to pop right out of my body. Like maybe Evan was right and that I should take it easy considering I was just recently dead and all. But I don’t give a shit. I’m on a mission.

A mission to heal her. A mission to heal myself. And this time, I’m going to show the fuck up.

Chapter Five - Maddie & Tyler

MADDIE

I come out of sleep feeling like I’m drowning. Like I’m underwater, looking up at bright light, legs and arms flailing, desperate to reach the surface.

Nothing makes sense. Where am I? What’s going on? A voice. I hear a voice. A man’s voice. Carlos? Logan? Ricky? Are they here to kill me?

I open my eyes, gulping air, and sit straight up.

But it only takes moments—long, weirdly stretched-out moments—for me to understand that I’m at home, in my own bed, and the booming male voice coming from the other side of the house is not Carlos, or Ricky Other Guy, or Logan.

Who the fuck?

Is that—

No.

No, it can’t be. He would not do that. He couldn’t do that. He has no idea where I live. Unless…

It’s getting dark outside. What time is it? What day is it?

I swing my legs over the bed, stand up, trip over the red stripper shoes I kicked off… whenever it was. I manage to catch my fall by grabbing onto the edge of the bed, and then straighten up, walk towards my door, throw it open and stomp down the hall towards the living room ready to find—

“And so I said, ‘No! It was the dog!” And three prostitutes bust out laughing.

But this is no fucking joke.

Tyler Morgan is sitting in my goddamn living room, on Annie’s goddamn couch, one arm stretched across the back, one foot propped up on a knee, holding a beer in the other hand, yucking it up like he belongs here.

“What the fuck is going on?” That’s me. I’m pissed. No, I’m goddamned livid.

“Maddie,” Tyler says, setting his beer down, getting to his feet, and kind of opening his arms like he’s gonna… what? Hug me? He looks unsure, but steps toward me.

I put up both hands, palms out, and say, as impolitely as I can, “Get the fuck out.”