I love spending time with Demi. As pretty and as feminine as she is, she can also hang with the guys. She watches sports, can drink you under the table, and throws one hell of a punch. She rocks it at the gym.
Hanging out with her makes it a little bit easier to adjust to life now that Mac’s gone. He’s blissfully happy by the way. California agrees with him.
It’s been three weeks since I moved in. I ordered some furniture— a bed and a dresser— and am presently covered in paint. It took me all day, but I finished my room. Light gray walls with white trim. I found this cool picture of a painter’s pallet on the street that has bright colored paint and brush strokes. I plan to hang over my bed, if it ever gets here.
I’m just about ready to take a shower when my phone rings. I glance at the screen as I wipe my hands off. It isn’t a number I recognize.
“Hello?”
“Ryan?” I know the voice immediately.
“Tasha?”
“Hey,” she greets, and it’s not a happy reply.
“What’s up Tash?”
“It’s Sean.”
I cease breathing as a multitude of horrific images flash through my mind.
“What about him?”
“He was in a car accident. He’s at Monmouth Medical Center.”
“I’ll be right there.” I drop everything and leave with my heart pounding erratically in my chest. I hail a cab. “I need to go to Jersey.”
The cab driver groans.
“Hey man, this will be a heavy fare. Drive.” I order.
The cabbie steps on the gas, and for the next hour, I direct him where to go. It feels like someone is stabbing my wallet to death, this cab ride is going to cost me a small fortune, but it’s the fastest way home.
And Lord knows, there’s no place like home.
Fuck my life.
Again.