Heathens & Hold Ups (Book 2 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 2- Callie

Present

"You're moping."

"Not moping," I insist. It would hold up more if I hadn't been listening to the same song on repeat and surviving on door dashed take out and essentials, but who's judging. I mean, other than Nicole and Rachel. Even Rachel's home health aide Maya has checked in on me and that might lend a bit of reality to Nicole's insistence that I look like crap.

"When was the last time you showered? And don't lie. I can smell you from here," Nicole's nose scrunches up as she attempts to clean up my apartment with a trash bag and disposable gloves.

A quick sniff test has me wincing and I concede to her point. I'm being pathetic. This is not why I left and I know if they could see me know, they'd be disappointed. Hell, I'm disappointed in myself. This past week has had my head a mess. It's been a year since I met them and although they were only in my life a short while, they transformed it. Sue me if this is how I mourn a life I thought I was going to finally have. I'll be fine again next week. I'm just busy throwing myself a pity party of one.

"You need to get laid. Clearly your battery-operated boyfriend is not doing the job. Women with regular orgasms do not act this depressed. You look fucking great and you are wasting it on work and the animals at the shelter. We're going out. Don't," she cuts me off before I can even finish coming up with some lame excuse to stay home. "You need this. Plus, I'm calling girl code. You can't let me go alone andIalreadygotustickets." Her words are so rushed at the end that it takes me a good minute to realize what she said.

"Tickets to what?" I ask, giving her my best stone eyed glare. It's flimsy at best. I can't keep a mean face if I try, but I do my best impression of Rave and it helps. I really don't want to do anything but veg out on my couch, binging something. Cooking shows should be safe, no drama or romance in cooking shows.

"Devil's Night party in Dallas. Even had enough foresight to grab us a hotel room so we didn't have to drive back home," she grins.

I stare blankly as my brain tries to catch up. "I don't have a costume."

"Already thought of. It's a masked party. I bought the outfits to match. You can pick which one you want. We're basically the same size. Go shower and I'll get everything in order. You're welcome by the way," she calls out as I head toward my bathroom.

*************

I only second guess myself twice on the drive to Dallas. A year ago, I would still be at home. Score one for new Callie.

The line around the block of masks has goosebumps erupting along my arms. The cool October weather could be to blame, but my body knows differently. Nicole drags us to the front as I adjust the rounded white collar on my little black dress. A stamp on our wrists and we're in. Red lights flood the warehouse, fog swirls around the dancefloor of pulsing bodies, and everywhere I look are masks. This is a terrible idea and I can't believe I let her talk me into this.

"We need shots!" She shouts over the music. I can't agree more. I need to be at least three drinks in to make it through this night without embarrassing myself. Everywhere I look I see a mask that belongs to one of the guys. I let her lead us through the crowds to the bar.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up when a guy squeezes behind me, his hand brushing against my waist as he passes. "Excuse me."

I whip my head around to see nothing but a sea of masks. For a second, I thought, but that's crazy.

"Drink up bitch!" Nicole whoops. I down the shot, tequila I gather from the burn racing down my throat. It tastes like bad decisions and a late check out tomorrow.

"One more!" If I'm doing this, I'm going all out. It's not the tequila churning in my gut, it's me. I allowed myself to forget who I am this week. Old Callie was riding me hard and trying to drag me back into silence and it's time she finally died.

"Hell yes!" She laughs, clapping a hand around my shoulder. "Another round please," she orders with her signature man eating smile. I stay back as she flirts with the cute bartender who's had his eye on her since we pulled up. Still, she turns from him with a wink as we clink glasses and down them. I can't help but shudder as the liquid trails down, warmth filling me and drowning out the tiny voice telling me I can't dance. Screw it.

Enthusiasm is all you really need to dance. Besides, it's not like anyone is really looking at me. Between the masks, fog, and red mood lighting, I'm just another number in this sea of people letting go for the night. Nicole and I lose ourselves in the music, heads tilted up, and hands reaching for the ceiling as we weave and dance like we're the only ones around. The energy is infectious. I catch her eye as a guy in a Michael Myers costume comes up behind her and wraps a hand around her waist. He pulls her in until her eyes double in size before darkening behind her twisted bunny mask as he presses her against him. I wait for her to give me the universal help me face and when it never comes, I blow her a kiss and a wink as I continue to dance alone.

It's not long before a body makes its presence known behind me as well. I allow him to pull me closer as we sway to the heavy beat. He loams over me and I tip my head up to see what masked man has me in his arms. "Hey doll," he purrs.

A year later and I still freeze. The moment is over and done with and I quickly excuse myself to the bathroom, miming all of this at Nicole and waving her away when she offers to come with. Michael and her were getting hot and heavy and it's not my place to clit trip her. She accused me of it once and now it's all my brain can call it.

Thankfully the line for the restroom is relatively short. Less than five minutes and my mask is off my face while I breathe in and out slowly, splashing my face with water as my heart beats a million miles a minute. I'm grateful I listened to Nicole and went with the waterproof mascara or I'd look more like a raccoon than the broken doll my mask reflects. When she offered me the two masks, I knew I had to pick this one. It stood out like a giant neon 'Screw you' to Colton and all he had put me through. I wanted to own my past and prove I had moved on. I have, mostly. Like my therapist is always reminding me; healing is not a linear path, sometimes it loops backwards before it continues along the track.

Too deep for tequila. I need another drink.