Doll Face (Baby Doll #3) Page 3

  “My little Katie-bug.” He races over to me in a sheer, flowing top and the tightest jeans I have ever seen. “My poor, poor baby girl … and I mean literally poor. I never in all my whole life would have ever imagined that this could happen in America. How can you go from being wealthy one moment to rags in a matter of minutes? Oh my, God, look at you with your little box, and haven’t you heard of waterproof mascara, girl?” He hugs me, smashing the box that is still in my hand between us. “Oh my God, is this like your new home?” Kiki looks horrified at the box in my hand.

  “No, it’s not my new home, it’s the last of my belongings,” I wail.

  “That is so sad.” He guides me to the car. “Come on, let me take you home.”

  “How did you know that I was here?” I sniffle once I’m sitting in the front seat of Kiki’s two door coupe.

  “Girl, please. Everyone in Phenix City knows what happened. This is a small ass town, and this is the most exciting thing to happen here since Mrs. Ball poisoned her husband’s sweet potato pie with rat poison. Besides, it made the front page of the local paper.” He rattles on, but I’ve tuned him out. Right, about now I feel like I just ate some of Mrs. Ball’s sweet potato pie.

  It has been two days since I lost everything. I keep waiting to wake up from this nightmare, but when I open my eyes reality slams me in the chest, and I can’t breathe once again.

  “Girl, you better be getting your ass up out of that bed.” Kiki plops down on the other side of the bed, fluffing the pillows under his head.

  “I’m never getting out of this bed. Just call the coroner when I die to remove my body.” I pull the blankets over my head.

  “You better not die on theses sheets; they are Egyptian cotton. Do you know how much they cost?” Kiki scolds me.

  “My life is over,” I groan, burrowing further under the blankets, into my cocoon of self-pity.

  “Pleeease.” He yanks the covers off my head. “You are not dying. You’re considered poor; that’s not death. Now you’re just like everyone else.” It feels like I have been punched in the gut when he says that.

  “Is this what poor feels like? It … hurts … I can’t … breathe,” I gasp.

  “Quick, put your head between your legs, I don’t know CPR.” He bounces over to me, pushing me up and out of my warm cocoon.

  “I don’t think that it will help.” I say, but I swing my legs off the bed anyway and tuck my head between them. I drag in deep breaths as my head spins wildly. “I’m poor, broke. I lost everything, my car, school, my dad, and my mom. Who the hell knows where Rylee is?” I wail. I swing my head up and look at Kiki, who is shaking his head at me. “What the hell am I going to do?” I grip the sheets because the world once again feels like it’s tilting and I’m about to slide off.

  “Katie, you are the strongest girl I know. You are going to be just fine.” He stands up, taking my hands and pulling me up with him. “Here is what you are going to do. First, you’re going to shave those Sasquatch looking legs of yours and brush you damn teeth. Then after that, girl, I’m taking you out to get you as drunk as a frat boy at a kegger. There isn’t a thing in this world that our friend Cuervo can’t cure.”

  Flopping back down on the bed, I roll onto my side into the fetal position. “I can’t go out; liquor will only intensify my problems,” I moan.

  “Look, you don’t have a choice because, girl, you are freaking Paul out. He’s afraid you’re in here molting on his sheets, and by the look of it, you are.” He curls his lip in disgust. “He said you got to get on up, or you got to get on out.”

  I sit up, my mouth hanging open. “What happened to girl code? Bros before hoes!” I squeal.

  “Girl, that is only for boys. And what girl code? You know there is no such thing. I would claw your eyeballs out for a pair of Manolo Blahnik’s and a night with one of your hot ex-boyfriends.”

  “That is so wrong! I can’t believe that you are choosing a boy over your best friend!” I squeal.

  “Sorry, babe, but I’m with Paul on this one. Being poor is not the end of the world. Take me for instance. I came out of the ghetto of Atlanta and now look at me. I drive a Mercedes and have a beautiful, rich boyfriend. Girl, if I could do it, so can you.” He cocks his hip.

  “First off, you grew up two houses down from me, and second your mom got your car for graduation. And no offense, but your boyfriend is a toad.”

  Kiki gasps with a mock horrified look that has me rolling my eyes. “Fine, you’re right he is a toad, but Paul is rich, and you are not going to mess this up for me by shedding on his sheets, okay? So get your ass up and in the shower, and put on something on that represents a Band-Aid that barely covers up your girly parts I don’t want to see. Because, girlfriend, we are going out tonight.” And with that he strolls out of the room, leaving me alone.

  I can hear Paul’s mumbled worries are coming through from the other side of the door about me never leaving and having to get a court order. So I drag my body that feels like it weighs a million pounds to the bathroom. Kiki is right, I do look horrible, and my hair is matted to the side of my head. Dark circles sit under my eyes; I’m not even sure if it’s broken blood vessels or just old mascara. I have a pair of Kiki’s sweats on, and I think one of Paul’s shirts. After peeling the clothes off that probably should be burned, I use every scrub, soap, and shampoo that Kiki has stockpiled in here.

  When I emerge from the long, hot shower, I feel a little more human again. I find a black strapless dress on the bed next to a pair of glittered platform heels. I shake my head. I can’t believe that he thinks I’m going to go out in this.

  I sit down next to the dress scowling at it when there is a knock on the door. I throw one of the shoes at the door. “If you think that I’m wearing your stripper attire you are wrong,” I call out.

  “It’s me, Paul.” He sticks his blond, thinning-haired head through the door. I set down the other shoe I was getting ready to throw.

  “Oh sorry, Paul, come in.” I tighten my robe.

  Paul looks at the shoe on the floor and cringes. “He wore that for last Halloween when he went as Lady GaGa,” he explains with a half-smile.

  “Well it's June, there is no way I’m putting it on.” I cross my arms protectively over my chest.

  He picks up the shoe, setting it neatly next to the door. “I just want to tell you I understand what you are going through. It might seem like the end, but you will get through this, and you will be stronger for it.” He finds the other shoe and sets it down next to its mate.

  “Look, Paul, you mean well but you have no idea what I’m going through. I lost everything. The only thing I have left is that Louie bag over there, and that is only because I smashed my car windows and stole it back from some pompous grease monkey.” I say, tears stinging the corner of my eyes.

  He gives me a small smile and fingers the leather strap of the bag. “When I was sixteen I came out to my mom. She threw me out of the house with nothing more than the clothes on my back. I didn’t have any friends, so I slept on a park bench for a week. The only thing I ate was lunch at school.” He stares at his feet.

  “Paul, I’m such a jerk, I’m so sorry.”

  He waves off my apology. “My high school English teacher saw me in the park and took me in and gave me a place to sleep. It was hard, I had to work, go to night school just to survive. The point is I made it through the hard time and so will you.” He smiles at me. I feel like such a horrible person. Here I am feeling sorry for myself when the truth is I still have my family that sort of care and friends I can count on. Maybe Paul is right, I will survive this.

  “Kiki wanted you to have these.” He holds his hand out, revealing a pair of gold feathered earrings. “I wish I had a friend like him when I was going through what I went through, it would have made things much easier.”

  I take the earrings from his hand, clutching them in my own. “He is a good friend,” I whisper, wiping away tears as I look at the gaudy earrings. “Kiki
is right, I need to get over this and start getting my life back on track.”

  “You can stay as long as you need to,” Paul says before leaving.

  I look over at the dress. “Thank you. But I’m still not wearing the shoes.”

  The Black Hole is the only bar between Columbus and Phenix City that has no cover charge and sells cheap, watered down vodka. The last time I was here I was seventeen trying to keep my then boyfriend who was in love with another girl. But I’m not seventeen anymore. I walk in pushing the memories away, tugging down the very short dress that sits just below my ass and hugs me so tightly that I’m afraid that if I sneeze the seams will pop. Much to Kiki’s dismay, I wore my sandals instead of the heels. The gold feather earrings brush against my shoulders, and my hair is pulled up off my neck in a low bun. “I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this dress,” I complain.

  “I can. That dress screams ‘desperate to sleep with the first man that buys me a shot’.” Kiki squeezes my arm.

  “I’m not sleeping with anyone,” I protest.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let you leave with anyone,” Paul reassures me as he looks shyly down at the floor.

  “Aww, baby, you are the sweetest.” Kiki kisses Paul on the mouth, and Paul’s cheeks redden at the public display of affection. “Isn’t he the best, Katie, being the dezzy so we can get our drink on? Oh, that’s my song!” Kiki grabs my hand pulling me towards the dance floor.

  “Thanks,” I call out to Paul as I’m yanked past him.

  Three hours into the night I’m starting to change my mind. Kiki was right, tequila really is my friend. No! My best friend. I love Tequila. Tequila understands me. I slam back another shot; the room feels warm, and I feel fuzzy inside. After licking the salt off my neighbor’s hand, I suck the lemon and toss the rind and glass back on the bar.

  “You see, I told you this is what you needed. Don’t you feel better? I feel better, and I was not even feeling bad before. Did I tell you, you are my bestie?” Kiki pulls me in for a hug, and I giggle at his outburst of emotion. “Holy hot bad boy dressed in black, Batman, I found your new husband. Or at least, your hook up for the night,” Kiki shouts and spins me around on my bar stool.

  “Weeee!” I squeal laughing, but halfway around my laugh gets stuck in my throat when I see who he is talking about. The guy is swaying and a little bit fuzzy, but I would know him anywhere no matter how many shots I took. Nash! The asshole who stole my car is walking my way. My heart flutters slightly as I take him in; he is wearing a black, fitted T-shirt that shows off his tan arms, ripped jeans, and a black baseball cap that sits low on his face, casting it in dark shadows. On his arm hangs a blonde girl with even fewer clothes than me. Three guys that look like trouble flank his side. What, the blonde isn’t enough for his look, he also needs an entourage? The flutter in my chest is replaced with a new emotions—hatred and anger. How dare he show up to my bar? That jerk!

  “I think I just died and went to bad boy heaven. Spank me and call me a cowgirl,” Kiki growls in my ear. “Katie-bug, if you don’t take a bite of that sex on a stick and give me all the delicious details to fantasize about, later on, I’m going to get it. Sorry, babe, I love you.” Kiki leans back into Paul’s chest. Kiki is right, the guy does look like sex on a stick, but no matter how much sex or hotness that guy is a dick. Maybe it’s the Cuervo causing my blood to boil, or maybe it’s the fact that Nash is acting like he doesn’t have a care in the world like he didn’t have a part in ruining my life!

  “Asshole,” I yell as I stumble off the bar stool and storm up to the guy who stole my car.

  “You!” The little redhead from a few days ago storms up to me unsteadily and starts to poke me in the shoulder. I can’t help but smirk at her, which only seems to piss her off more. She was hot before, but tonight dressed in a dress that barely covers her ass, she brings sexy to a whole new level. She will definitely be on my mind later. I’m sure I’m not the only one whose mind she will be on. All eyes in the bar follow her, and I want to cover her up. I have a sweatshirt in my truck; I wonder if I can talk her into it. Doubt it. What the hell am I doing? I shouldn’t want to cover up her dress; I should be thinking about how to get her out of it.

  James shakes his head at me and walks away. “Who the hell are you talking, too, bitch?” Karly’s lip curls back. Uh oh. I didn’t plan on showing up tonight with my ex, but she showed up at my house, and I figured if anything she would be an easy lay and help me get this girl off my mind. No attachments, which is why Karly and I broke up in the first place. Doll Face laughs a laugh that turns into a snort, which I’m attracted to as well. What the fuck is wrong with me? This girl has me turning into a sappy Hallmark card.

  “Who am I talking to? Not that it concerns you, but this douchebag.” She pokes me again, and now it’s my turn to snort.

  “Douchebag, really? I thought we had something, Red.” I bring my hand to my heart and mock being hurt by her words that really amuse me. She rolls her green eyes at me and turns on wobbly legs toward Karly.

  “Look, you seem like a lovely girl, and you’ve got really, really … really…big boobs.” She scrunches her face and now pokes Karly in the boob. The girl is wasted, from the smell of it, she has been nursing a bottle of tequila. She is going to regret that decision in the morning.

  “You can do a lot better than him.” She pokes her other bony little finger at my chest. I have to fight the urge to press her hand to my heart. Instead, I put out the fire that she is starting. Taking out a twenty, I hand it to Karly.

  “Why don’t you go get us some drinks and I will be right there.”

  “You better get your bitch under control,” Karly snaps. She snatches the bill from me and storms off toward the bar.

  “What is your problem? Do you think just because you are gorgeous, sexy … and tan. Wow, you’re really tan …” She trails off and looks me over; for a moment she seems desperate like I might have what she needs, and that pang in my chest is back—the one that wants to be this girl’s hero, to save her from whatever demons it’s she is battling. She shakes her head. “You can’t just demand women to do whatever it is you want.” She purses her lips, and I want to kiss the pink smeared lip gloss off of them.

  “Are you sure about that.”

  “Positive.”

  “You’re drunk,” I say this because not only is it true, but I also want to see her bristle again. I like how feisty she is. I bet she is great in bed.

  “I’m not drunk. You’re drunk.” She scrunches her face again then laughs; it comes out breathy. “I’m not! I don’t get wasted on tequila because my life is shit. No, sir, I’m a Bloom, and us Blooms were bred to be upscale citizens. Unlike your skanky girlfriend, Mr. Nash.” She pushes me hard on the shoulder, and I can’t help but smile. I’m glad that Karly is nowhere in earshot because she will throw down as fast as any of the guys. I had to pull her out of more than a few fights over the years. And I doubt miss prim and proper has ever been in a fight that didn’t include her fancy lawyer suing someone.

  “Yeah, well, Doll Face, upscale individuals don’t go around assaulting people.” I catch her hand and press it to my chest, keeping it there. “And my name is Adam. Adam Nash.” This takes her back for a moment. Then her liquor kicks back in.

  “You, sir, are not people,” she sputters.

  Can she feel the electricity sparking at our touch? Because it’s like a damn volt coursing through me, causing my heart to skip a beat.

  Smiling, I cock my eyebrow at her. “No?”

  “No, you’re the asshole who stole my car.” She is getting louder, gathering the attention of the other bar-goers. I want to take her away, protect her; I know that she is going to regret this in the morning.

  “Why don’t we go somewhere private and you can tell me all about what sort of people I’m not?” She looks up at me, and I think she is starting to see through the tequila haze. Glancing from my face to my hand—which is pressed against hers, keeping it close
to me—she yanks it away.

  “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you? But I’m not sleeping with you, got that?”

  I glance at James, who is sitting at the bar still shaking his head.

  I lean down to her, and through the tequila, I can smell her perfume, vanilla, and jasmine. “Don’t flatter yourself, I wouldn’t sleep with you if you came to my house naked as the day you were born begging me to do you.” This is a lie, all I’ve been able to think of since I left her in her driveway is what she looks like naked, and judging by that tiny dress she looks fucking unbelievable. “Well, I would never be that desperate,” she says before storming off. I watch her go the entire way until she disappears into the bathroom.

  “Dude what are you doing?” James asks when I sit down next to him.

  “What? She told me off.” I play innocent but James sees right through my bullshit, he always could.

  “She is out of you league.” He sips at his beer.

  “What the hell does that mean?” My face burns and I keep my hands balled in fists on the counter. It takes a lot for me to hold back from knocking my best friend on his ass. It wouldn’t be the first fists we swung at each other. And I know exactly what he means, it has been itching at the back of my mind. That girl comes from a different class than me. She is better, and I fucking hate that.

  “I’m only telling you this because you are my brother and for some reason I give a shit about your punk ass. She is a high-class, rich girl, and you are the opposite of everything she is.”

  I grab his beer off the bar and down it. “So?” I snap in defiance.

  “So rich girls don’t go for guys like me and you; she probably has some rich douchebag boyfriend somewhere around here.”

  Now I’m really getting pissed. I didn’t think about a boyfriend before, and the thought of some guy touching her is driving me insane—which is fucking crazy because I don’t even know the girl, so I shouldn’t care.