Drive Me Crazy - By Eric Jerome Dickey Page 0,13

my head. Couldn’t remember the number of times she held onto me and moaned that like she was losing her mind. So much I love you.

I repeated what I said before, told her to get dressed and go home.

She whispered, “Sure you want me to leave?”

I put my hand up to her face, held her in a gentle way, heard her sigh, felt her weakening and melting under my touch. Her tongue eased out of her mouth, reached for mine.

She said, “Love you, Driver. Love you so much it hurts.”

I thought about putting my mouth on hers, kissing her the same way I had kissed Arizona. Maybe I could close my eyes and pretend she was Arizona. Do all the things to Lisa that I had planned to do to the exotic sin that had teased me back at Back Biters.

I put my mouth close to her ear, whispered, “Go home, Lisa.”

I stepped away from her. It wasn’t easy. She was emotional, needed me to blanket myself around her, give her what I’d taken away, but I couldn’t do that for her, not anymore.

She said, “The tight-eyed bitch you were all over at Back Biters, she was pretty.”

I ran my hand over my head, rubbed my aggravation, gave her jealousy no response.

She went into the living room, put her clothes back on. I stood by my bedroom window. What I hated the most was that despite all of the hard talk, I had a diamond-hard erection.

When she dressed she folded her arms, looked away. “Walk me out.”

I shook my head. “You have a gun. Walk yourself.”

Her arrogant disposition had been softened by her true emotions. “Please?”

I grabbed my suit coat. She went to my fridge and helped herself to a 7-Up. She didn’t open it. She never drank 7-Up straight from the can. She said there were too many germs on the lip of that metal, no matter how good you wiped it down. Lisa led the way and we headed back out into the night. I passed her, was walking fast, trying not to get too close to her, trying to get her out of my life as soon as I could. The faster I moved the more she dragged her feet.

She tied her scarf on her head and laughed. “You’re Wolf’s bitch. He pays you enough for rent and eats, keeps you under his thumb. You think he gives a shit about you? If you were in prison he’d get the top bunk. Be a man, or did you lose your manhood in prison?”

My lips tightened, jaw clenched. I faced her. “Fuck you.”

“Your sorry ass. Content living in a damn one-bedroom apartment, across the street from Piss Alley and Hoodrat Row. You ain’t shit. Fucking Uncle Tom-ass loser swindling convict.”

I grabbed her arm. She jerked away, kept talking down to me. I grabbed her arm again, growled for her to shut up. She tried to pull away, but that was like a housefly trying to tow a freight train. She scratched my arm. Kept scratching. I ended up pushing her away from me. Pushed her glitz and glamour hard and she stumbled into a parked car. She got her balance.

“See, this is the real you, Driver. A suit can’t hide the real you.”

Traffic was passing. People were in the windows. I raised my palms and stepped away from her. “Walk yourself. And hell no, I don’t love your crazy ass. Never did.”

I’d made it about ten steps when there was a whoosh followed by pain in the back of my head, on the right side, behind my ear. The sharp and sudden agony sent me down on one knee. Defenses kicked in. I stumbled to my feet swinging at everything and hitting nothing but cold air. Thought I had been shot. Or hit by a brick. Then I saw a 7-Up can rolling away from me, dented from impact. I held onto my ear like I was trying to muffle the pain. Eyes watered. Couldn’t hear for a moment. And my balance was off. I pulled my hand away from my head and saw a deep redness staining my fingers.

Heard some dude in a passing car yell, “Damn! She fucked him up!”

I rampaged after Lisa like a raging bull. My balance was still off. For a moment I had double vision. I saw two Lisas running away from me instead of just one. Both of them got in her Hummer, slammed the door hard, locked it, four breasts

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