Read Lizzy Gardner #2_Dead Weight for Free Online Page B

the bottle to her face. “You look different.”
    “Thanks.”
    “It’s the hair. I like it.” He poured about a shot’s worth into each of two plastic cups and handed her one. He drank his in one gulp.
    She took a sip and gagged. “This tastes like shit.”
    His expression changed, reminding her of how easily he angered.
    “Why are you here?” he asked.
    “Isn’t it obvious?”
    “No,” he said, as if someone whispered her plans into his ear.
    Outside in the moonlight she’d felt as if she could take on an army of hoodlums, but everything had changed the moment she entered Peter’s apartment.
    She hated him, hated him with every iber of her being. And that was the problem. Hate was an emotion and emotions fucked with your mind. She tried not to let him see the anxiety she felt merely by looking at him. “Why don’t you take me to your bedroom so I can show you how much I’ve been looking forward to this?”
    He realized the front door was still open.
    With the bottle clutched in his right hand, he used his left to push straggly hair out of his eyes as he went to shut the door. She heard the click of the lock before he led her to his room down the hallway.
    A king-sized mattress on the loor took up most of the bedroom. A dingy maroon-colored coverlet hung off the edge. His bedroom was much darker than the living area. She stood at the end of the bed and noticed that he was still standing beneath the door frame leading into the room.
    “What are you waiting for?” she asked.
    “I’m trying to figure out the real reason why you’re here.”
    “Curiosity.”
    He grinned, showing two rows of tobacco stained teeth. “You think I’m stupid?”
    She was counting on it.
    He took a long swallow from the bottle. “I always knew you liked me, but I could never get you into my bed. So why now?”
    “The ol’ man strayed, so I figured I would do the same.”
    “I could frisk you,” he said, “but I think it’ll be a lot more fun if you just strip down to nothin’ instead. One piece at a time. Go ahead. Take something off.”
    “Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind about this whole little tryst.”
    “ Tryst? You been reading a dictionary or something?”
    “Merriam-Webster’s, Eleventh Edition. It’s a best-seller.”
    “Cute. Now take it off. Take it all off, honey.”
    He took another long swig from the bottle. She removed her T-shirt and then took her time sliding the mini-skirt down and over her legs before finally stepping out of it.
    While she stripped, he drank.
    Wearing nothing but a thong, a skimpy bra and a cheap pair of high heels, she left her clothes in a heap. “I must say my feelings are hurt.
    Peter doesn’t trust me.”
    He set the bottle on the loor, and then straightened and pulled his shirt over his head. He wobbled slightly.
    Thank God.
    “Where did you get that scar?” she asked, her lips pouty as if she gave a rat’s ass.
    His chin dropped to his chest as he took a look. “This,” he said, trying to touch the scar but missing by a few inches, “is an old war wound.”
    Seeing the scar made her want to smile, maybe even throw back her head and laugh, but she didn’t. She had made that mark with her teeth years ago and she was proud of it. The dumb asshole probably thought that was bad.
    He hadn’t seen anything yet.
    Hayley turned slightly, her gaze on her backpack. She wanted to make sure everything she needed was close by.
    “What’s that on your back. .a tattoo?”
    Shit.
    He stumbled forward and pointed a inger at her. “You’re not Christina.”
    No, she thought as she watched him collapse. .finally.
    Using the pointy toe of her right shoe, she nudged him in the stomach. He was out cold. “And lucky for you,” she said, “you’re not Brian.”
    She grabbed her backpack, kicked off her heels, and then quickly changed back into her comfortable clothes. Years ago, when her mom had irst dated Brian, she had thought Brian was different. Trusting her mom’s