Big Bad Boys A Romance Collection - Penny Wylder Page 0,148

rolling in a dreamy haze. Pushing up onto my elbow, I wait for a response on the other end of the receiver.

“To accept. . . call Cook. . . County. . .”

“What?” I can't understand what's being said. The voice is crackly and full of static, and it drops between words.

“Press one.”

Click.

I hang up, fairly certain it was one of those automated telemarketer services based out of some foreign country that isn't in our time zone.

I'm in bed. I'm not going to spend twenty minutes answering a fucking survey or arguing with someone about made up student loans.

Rolling onto my side, my phone goes off again. Picking it up, my voice is loud and I'm angry as shit. “Listen you telemarketing piece of—”

“Sylvia?”

Sitting up, I push the phone hard against my ear. “Who is this?”

“It's me.”

“Phade?” Squinting, I look at my clock again. “It's three in the fucking morning, why the hell are you calling me right now?”

“I'm sorry, I know it's late, but—”

“Nope, I'm not a bootie call. Not happening.” Raking my nails through my hair, I pluck at a string on my blanket.

“No, I'm not calling for that. I need. . .” he says, pausing as he lets out a breath of air. “I need your help.” There's a soft plea in his voice, subtle and hidden between his ego.

“What's wrong? Are you alright?” I'm awake now. Wide awake.

Is he okay? Is he hurt? What the hell happened?

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” His voice grows quiet as he whispers heavily into the speaker. “I need a favor.”

“A favor? What kind of favor? And don't say it's a sexual favor, because I'll hang up right now.”

If this is his way of trying to get in my pants because he's got a hard-on and doesn't want to jerk off, I'm not falling for it.

“No, don't hang up. I need a ride. Can you pick me up?”

“From where?” My shoulders relax back, but his silence makes me nervous. “Where are you Phade?”

He isn't answering, all I'm hearing is his breathing as it creates pops and crackles in the receiver. “Where, Phade?”

“Cook County,” he quietly says.

“You're not serious?”

Jail? He's in fucking jail? Are you kidding me?

“Before you get upset, I want you to know it's not what you think. Can you just come get me? I'll explain everything.”

“Right, not what I think.” I laugh, but it's not because I'm amused, I don't think any of this funny. I laugh because I don't know what the hell he thinks he's going to get from me. Does he really think I'm going to jump out of bed to come rescue him? “Am I your one call?”

“Yeah, and they actually let me call you a second time because the first one didn't go through, we got cut off.”

“Oh, well isn't that nice of them. I'm glad you have friends in there, maybe you can ask one of them for a ride home when you get out. Goodbye, Phade.”

I'm not playing this game with him. I'm not his fucking sober ride home. I'm not here as a taxi service. He can't use me like this, that's not how this thing is going to go.

“Syl, wait! Don't hang up!” he calls out, and I hear the desperation in voice. He's pleading, he's trapped, and he knows there's no one else he can reach out to.

But that isn't my problem, it's his. Maybe he should have thought about that before he got himself locked up again.

Except I don't hang up, even though I want to. My thumb is so close to hitting the end button, the pad is hovering over that little red circle, but I just can't do it.

“Syl, you still there?”

“What?”

“Please, I can't call Daniel, you're all I have. Can you please just come get me?”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you did whatever the hell it was to get arrested. You don't use your head, Phade. You react and do shit before you think about the consequences. This is all on you, don't drag me into it.”

Click.

A sense of satisfaction seeps down my spine. I won’t let him treat me like a doormat. It felt good.

This is exactly what we're trying to avoid, and he just couldn't help himself. I shouldn't be surprised really, once a playboy, always a playboy. His blood is made of nightclub air and alcohol. He deserves to sit in prison. I'm doing him a favor by not rushing to save him.

Pulling the covers over my head, I let out