Razor's Edge (Afflictions) Read Free

and she looked frustrated." 
    "You mean she looked hot and your little thingy between your legs did all the thinking," Bebe says as she bounces up behind Tryst and grabs a chip from his bag then grins at him as she pops it into her mouth.
    “It's not little. Want me to prove it?" Tryst’s hands go to his belt buckle, he stops, and his eyes go wide. "Oh, that's right, I'm not into dick-hopping skanks." He winks at Bebe.
    She’s glaring at him.
    Tryst smirks, picks up his sub, and takes a slow bite. "What's the matter, Bebe? You hungry? Denis didn’t feed you enough?"   
    She gives him a crooked smile. "If someone would have told me you were going, I would have placed my order." She looks at me. 
    Throwing my hand up, I back up a pace. They’re not putting me in the middle this time. "You were out running errands all morning. I thought you would’ve picked something up." 
    Bebe glances down at the flyer. She tilts her head, and in three seconds flat her eyes go wide. "Stones of Rage? Oh yeah." She snaps her fingers. "I forgot. Adam said they were opening for his band tonight. I got an invite. Wanna go?" 
    Teenaged memories slam into my head—her always dragging me to the Loft. Hanging out with local bands while they rehearsed. It was wicked awesome back then. We could come with one band and hop from room to room listening to them all play. Free alcohol and pot—what rebellious teen wouldn’t love a set up like that? Thing is, I grew out of it. Bebe evolved with it. 
    "Maybe next time." I finish my six-inch then toss the wrapper in the garbage can.  
    "Come on, Shay. You never come out. And you deserve some stress-free fun before Gary’s parole hearing." Bebe pouts her lips like that’s supposed to make me change my mind. 
    My stress level this past week has been enough to give a healthy person an aneurysm. All the nights I lay awake in my bed—wondering if Gary will be granted parole and storm back into my life only to leave me again, whether by prison, some hot young twat, or a drug overdose—has my heart twisted in knots. He can’t be set free, free to wreak havoc in my life, leaving behind nothing but a disaster zone of empty promises and broken hearts. 
    Not just one now. I have Ben to worry about too. His heart. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t protect it? 
    "I can’t find a babysitter on short notice." And cue my constant cop out. I’d enjoy a night to myself, but Ben needs me here. He’s already had one parent abandon him. I’ll be damned if I will, too.  
    Bebe rolls her eyes. "Call Sasha. She’s been complaining about how she needs to come up with money for her trip to Cancun. She’s been taking on all kinds of side jobs to save up a little extra spending cash." 
    "I can’t afford to pay a babysitter and still have enough cash to go out." I head over to my workstation and start cleaning up for my next appointment. I detach everything and throw the needles away, then take the tubes off my gun and throw them in the sterilizer. Wiping down the seat for my next appointment, I try to tune out Tryst and Bebe’s whispering in the background. Talk all they want, I’m not giving in and going out.  
    I glance down at my appointment folder. Dicky. A sign? I think not. A lot of musicians like tattoos, and this is Motown. I laugh. Besides, Dicky’s a white wannabe rapper. Not one hardcore, heavy-metal bone in his body. I pull out the picture for his back piece. A cemetery with the names and dates of all his dead friends. Yeah, he’s gangsta. A member of the Gangsta Disciples. Bikers and Gang bangers. Perfect clientele. I need a shop in a new neighborhood.  
    "Doing Dicky’s coloring today, or are you still outlining?"  
    I jump. "Jesus Christ, Tryst." I playfully slap him with the picture.  
    "Sorry." He rubs his shaved head, and his deep chocolate eyes rise to mine. "If ya want, I can pay for the babysitter. I do owe you for the German eagle you did between my