confusion seeps through the fog of sleep. I’m lying on my side in bed, and blue-grey light filters through the window.
The faint, sallow light is the kind that could easily indicate very early morning or early night—right before the moon rises or sets—and it takes a moment for me to realize which it is.
It’s morning. The sun will be rising soon.
A glance around the room reveals that it’s empty, a fact for which I experience a savage sort of gladness.
“Emma.” A couple more thumps on the door, and then Pip’s voice. “Open up.”
I drag myself out of bed. My backside rubs across the mattress, causing me to wince and straighten sharply before I pad across the room.
With no clean shirt for me to wear and stripped to the waist, I open the door a few inches and peer through the opening, rubbing my tired eyes.
Pip scans my face and his young eyes glitter with amusement. “Didn’t sleep well?” he says. “I guess it’s be a while before you’ll be comfortable.”
I mash my lips together, cocking my head, waiting.
“We’re leaving shortly.” He holds out a pile of clothes—jeans, a shirt, and socks piled on top. “Spider wants you downstairs and ready to go in thirty minutes.”
I take the clothes from him. “Are we returning to Diamondback today, then?”
He gives a nod. “Hurry up.”
He departs and I close the door.
Facing the room, the gratefulness that I’m alone ebbs, giving way to the irritating loneliness that’s become all too familiar. I march to the bathroom, grinding my teeth.
After leaving Spider in the barroom and collapsing on the floor, I’d cried myself to sleep right there by the door. I’d been too shattered by everything that had happened in the last two days to bring myself to get into bed.
When nightfall came, I’d finally showered, scrubbing away Spider’s seed and letting the water wash away fresh tears. Spider hadn’t come to the room.
Shortly after I’d crawled into bed, Monica had come with dinner, leaving a plate of stew on the bedside table. She’d left without a word, and I hadn’t even turned to look at her. Feeling numb, I’d eaten in silence, and then, sometime after, dropped off to sleep.
Surprisingly, it’s easier dealing with things today. My emotions feel less intense, locked away behind a wall of numbness. Last night feels far away somehow, as if I’m protected by a cocoon, a veil beyond which nothing can reach.
I take a quick shower and towel off, then have a look at the clothes Spider sent up.
Today’s outfit is a lot less revealing, thank the Lord. There’s a pair of tight denim jeans, a black T-shirt, and dark socks. A pair of lacy black panties, still with the tag on them, are folded between the pants and shirt.
I have to wonder whose clothes these are. He obviously picked the underwear up somewhere. He probably went out on more secret club business last night and got them before he returned to Pops’. Did he pick the rest of the clothes up, too?
I look them over. No, he hadn’t. The jeans look broken in, comfortable and faded, the way denim gets when it’s well-used.
Dee implied yesterday that Spider has other women, and it’s not the first time someone has done that. Do these clothes belong to one of them, like the clothes I found in his closet that first day at Casper’s? Has one of the White Springs girls shared his bed?
A stab of jealousy momentarily pierces the safety of that unfeeling numbness. He must have slept sometime, but he obviously hadn’t returned to the room during the night, or surely I’d have heard him. I’d assumed he was out riding somewhere, but had he been in some other women’s bed while I was in here alone?
The jealousy turns to fury, and I yank on the pants, nearly hard enough to tear them.
I shouldn’t be feeling any of this, and it makes me even madder to realize that I am. After everything he’s done, I should be glad to let those other women have him!
The pants are a little loose in the waist and hips, and a few inches longer in the leg, as if they’re meant for a woman taller than me with slightly wider hips. Still, they’re comfortable, and they aren’t those blasted low-rise ones that barely hide my sex. The top is a cause for great relief. It’s a large black one, big enough to be another one of Striker’s, with short sleeves. And then