QUINN

As soon as the door closes, creating separation between Cash and I, I start moonwalking through the kitchen in super speed mode.

I know this isn't good. It'll just be a matter of time before something goes wrong. But, at the same time, nothing has even really happened. I mean, yeah, he kissed me last night. It didn't happen again though, at least not like that.

Maybe I'm just overthinking it. However, I can't deny that when his lips brushed my cheek, my entire body flooded with warmth. My face probably looked like a lobster. No, they aren't red enough. An embarrassed lobster. If a lobster can blush, that's what I looked like.

While I'm doing my fancy footwork through the apartment, one of those warped spots on the floor catches a thread on my sock and its game over for the dancing queen. I go down faster than the Titanic.

I'm lying on the ground, staring at the light on the ceiling, when I remember it's Sunday. Sunday Funday. I growl at nothing in particular, kind of bummed that this revelation brought an end to my euphoria. I peel myself off the floor so I can go get ready.

Maybe today will be a good day. Maybe she'll be in good spirits, and we can talk and laugh and watch movies together like we used to. Maybe she didn't drink herself into oblivion last night.

After showering and getting dressed, I grab a bottle of liquor. Just in case I need to use it as leverage.

**********

I knock on the door twice. Ring the bell four times. Then, I debate climbing through the spare bedroom window, but that requires a few skills I don't necessarily possess. Still, I don't know what else I'm supposed to do. Just stand here and wait? Hope she answers the damn door?

I start tapping my foot and repeatedly pushing the doorbell in to the beat of the song playing in my head, listening as it echoes from inside the house. It'll get on her nerves eventually. Unless she's passed out. Or dead. But we all know that woman is too stubborn to die.

After ten very musical minutes, I'm having a serious talk with the window.

"Don't eat my butt like you did last time, okay? I need it for sitting. And it's very useful when I'm in the mood to dance."

The window just stares at me, not responding. Silent treatment is her strong suit. I huff before shoving it open and lifting myself up onto the ledge.

I teeter like a seesaw, trying to force my whole body through the small opening. Finally, my palms connect with the hardwood floor inside and my legs are sticking straight up into the air on the outside.

Just like last time, the windowpane gives up on life and slams shut against my ass.

I'm stuck. I try dragging myself across the floor to free my legs, but I don't have a good enough grip. I let myself dangle there for a minute, all the blood rushing to my head due to the steep incline my body is positioned in.

"Mama!! Are you awake?!" I yell the loudest I can despite the tightness in my throat.

There's no answer but I can hear the distant sounds of the TV in the other room. She better not have been watching our show without me!

With my newfound anger, I start flailing around. The vinyl on the window is digging into me with an excruciating amount of pressure, but I keep wriggling.

My clammy palms help me get a better grip on the floor and I violently sway myself forward one more time. On the final motion, my legs break free and fly right over my head.

My body becomes a bendy straw, twisted up in unimaginable ways when I land with a thud. I stay put for a minute, wondering how my feet are next to my head. I had no idea my body was capable of such flexibility. I love discovering new things about myself!

Wait...no. Trying to untangle my limbs is very painful. I am no longer impressed with this. Never again. That window needs to be removed from this house and burned at the stake. Evil witch!

When I'm finally flat on my back, I lay there and allow my poor body to recuperate.

"Ooowww." I groan, rubbing out the sore muscles in my thighs.

I wonder if my butt will have a weird bruise again. Ms. Window is a cold-hearted bitch. I don't know how many times I have to remind myself not to trust her before I'll come to my senses. My poor booty cheeks can't take much more of this!

I scramble to my feet and navigate through the house until I'm in the kitchen. Mama is passed out on the couch, her leg hanging off the side. My eyes burn from the thick layer of fog settling over the main living area.

Opening the window above the sink, I swat my hand around to try and clear out some of the cigarette smoke that I assume accumulated overnight. From the looks of it, I'd say she went on a bender last night.

I'd be intrigued about how she manages to create such a mess every week if I weren't the one who had to clean it up come Sunday. I wash every dish in the sink by hand, spending extra time to scrub the insides of the cups, trying to remove the thick buildup of residue from whatever she's been drinking.

When the counters are wiped down, the expired food thrown away, and the dishes placed in their designated locations, I decide it's time to wake her up.

"Mama, come on. You need to get up." I coax her from her slumber while shaking her shoulder.

"Quinn?" She sounds disoriented.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Is Dylan here too?" Her hopeful tone makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

I swallow, try to speak, and swallow again.

"No, mama. Dylan's...he...he's not with us anymore, remember?"

Every time I have to break the news to her, I feel like I'm being transported to the day I found out about his death all over again. Today isn't going to be a good day. It never is when it starts with questions about Dylan or dad. And bad Sundays mean that Quinn doesn't exist.

I have to shut down to keep myself from getting to the low I experienced junior year. Which means I'm lost in a world that I pretend doesn't exist Monday through Saturday.

She shoves me away and I almost fall backwards over the coffee table, knocking her ashtray over in the process.

"Get out!" She screams, flipping over on the couch to face away from me.

I used to argue but I learned it's no use. When she doesn't want me here, there's no changing her mind. So, I pick up the ashtray, collect all the cigarette butts, and clean up the scattered ashes. I lean down to kiss the side of her forehead.

"Bye, mama. Love you." I whisper before leaving the house.

*************

From the minute I sat down, Gio read the mood. He knows that every now and then, Sundays are for getting fucked up. So, he pours my drinks with a heavy hand, and I appreciate the quick path to oblivion he's helping me achieve.

I don't even know why the club is open on Sunday nights. Aside from a few people dancing and the usual druggies in the conference room, it's not a very lively scene.

When I feel a sudden wave of heat on my arm, I know Cassius is sitting next to me. I don't want to look at him. I shouldn't. I'm in operation shut down mode right now and he poses a threat to said mission.

I look at him anyway. Damn my traitorous mind!

It's hard to focus my vision. He looks like a big spider...lots of eyes! A cute spider. Who would have thought that was possible? I smile as I try to focus on each of his eight eyes, one at a time.

"Quinn, are you okay?"

I lean away from him, trying to process his words.

"I'm gr-great, Cash!" I exclaim with a hiccup.

I'm not sure if he's actually staring at me with all those eyes or if he's looking at Gio. But Gio is laughing.

"What's funny?" I ask, feeling left out.

He nods towards Cash's face.

"What happened there?"

I turn to Cash again and squint my eyes reaallly hard, bringing everything into focus. There's a tiny little bruise right on the outer corner of his eye.

"Awww, the phallus left its mark!" I coo, admiring the battle wound.

"I'm sorry, what?!" Gio chokes out over his fit of laughter.

"Yeah! He got sl-slapped by a penis when he was trying to come up to my apartment."

Why is Cassius glaring at me like that?

"I - I need more information!" Gio is still laughing hysterically, and Cash turns that icy stare to him next.

He immediately clams up but smiles as he walks away.

"I'll find out eventually!" He sings over his shoulder.

Once he disappears, Cash turns to me, his multiple eyes narrowing in on my face. And my hair. And the ceiling. And the bar. And my leg. All at once. I wish I could do that! Do you know how useful this would be in everyday life?!

"When did you get so many eyes?" I need to know these things.

"You mean the two I was born with?"

"No, not those two. All the others."

I don't know why he's pretending this is normal. I've never seen anything like it!

"I needed to talk to you, but I see I should save it for some other time. Try to stay out of trouble tonight, Quinn." He smirks.

Tapping his fingers against the ledge of the bar, he stands up from his stool. I grab his wrist before he has the chance to leave me here. I should just let him go. He's a threat to your sanity, Quinn. He has the ability to break me.

"Wait! Wh-what do you want to t-talk about?" Ugh, these hiccups are the worst!

And why did I stop him!?

"I asked Billy about the night he let you in. We're gonna talk about it, okay? Just not right now."

While my heart travels down through my intestines, threatening to fall out of my bruised butt, Cash is walking away to his usual corner like he didn't just shatter my walls. Why did he talk to Billy? What did Billy tell him?

No. I don't need this right now. Avoidance is key.

"Peasant! I need another drink!" I yell to Gio.

He grins and starts mixing a cocktail. When he carries it over, he stops to cross his legs and bows to me.

"Your majesty." He says, setting the fruity beverage down.

He puts a bottle of Sprite next to it, knowing I'll want some form of carbonation after this. I have no idea why, but my throat always gets dry and scratchy when I start drinking heavily. My elbow accidentally knocks it to the ground, and I struggle to get out of my seat to pick it back up.

Halfway through my consumption of the liquid happiness, another person sits down. I swear I must be beyond drunk because there's no way this bitch parked her perky ass right next to me. I have to be hallucinating.

"I come in peace. I just needed to tell you something."

Well, that's definitely her voice.

"What do you want, Skylar?" I try to sound mean but fail pretty terribly.

"I just noticed you're hanging out with Cassius, and I felt like I needed to warn you. Woman to woman. We have to look out for each other, you know?"

"Get to the point." I groan out and dramatically fake slam my forehead against the bar.

"He can be dangerous."

I laugh right in her face.

"No. He's a damn bearaffe." I spit back defensively.

Yeah, bears and giraffes can be dangerous but, in my head, the infamous bearaffe is a perfect genetic mixture of all the nicer qualities.

"I had to get a restraining order on him after we broke up and he tried to violate the order when he got out of prison. I just thought you should know so you can take whatever precautions you need."

Restraining order? Prison? What?

Is that where he was when he disappeared for all those months? I might throw up. Big, colorful chunks.

Is Cash the same as Hunter? Hunter seemed really sweet at first too. Mama always said that charm and charisma will help any man sneak his way into your heart. My head is spinning out of control, and I get the urge to stand up.

Skylar looks genuinely concerned for me, but I'm drunk and can't tell for sure. This is the girl who broke Cash. But maybe he broke her first? I let him in my apartment. Why did I do that?!

No...I...Skylar is a liar. I can't trust her. I might not be able to trust Cash either, but I know for sure I can't believe the succubus. No matter how drunk I am.

"Can I have a soda, please?" I hear Skylar ask Gio politely.

It's pop, Skylar, you friggin idiot.

"Here, you can have mine." I say devoid of emotion, handing my unopened bottle to her. "Peace offering for looking out for me." I add with a sweet smile that burns me to the core.

I need to get out of here. I saw Joey and Owen earlier. I need them. Need their services. I can't fucking break tonight. It's been so long, and I just can't let it happen.

As I'm stumbling over to the conference room, I hear Skylar scream as the shaken-up bottle of Sprite explodes all over her face and hair.