All Things Pretty
Page 45

“If I could make any other one, I would. But I can’t.”
“Why?” I grind out. “Tell me why.”
She worries her lip. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Again, you can, you just won’t.”
“Sig, it’s the same thing to me–can’t and won’t. The reasons why I won’t are the same as why I can’t. My hands are tied.”
“I don’t believe that.” I could strangle her. Or Tonin. Somebody. I’m fuming.
Right up until I see tears fill her eyes. “I knew this was a mistake,” she croaks.
I put an iron fist around my temper. Being an asshole isn’t getting me anywhere. I exhale, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry. I…you didn’t deserve that. I just…god, I hate it!” I lean my head back, stroking her palm with my thumb.
“I wish I could change it, but I can’t.” When I turn my eyes back to Tommi, lonely tears are streaming silently down both cheeks and her chin is trembling.
I cup the back of her neck and pull her to me, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’d change it for you if you’d just let me.”
“You can’t,” she cries brokenly. “Nobody can.”
I raise my head until my lips are touching her forehead. “But that was before you met me. I can help you, Tommi. I promise. You just have to trust me.”
“Maybe one day,” she says, tucking her face into the curve of my shoulder.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight until her shaking stops. “Remember what I told you,” I tell her.
She leans back to look at me, her eyes all big and glassy and tortured. “What?”
“Think of me. No matter what, think of me.” I take her lips in a kiss that’s meant to sear her all the way through what she has to face, whatever she feels like she has to hide, right down to her soul. I’m not sure, though, that it doesn’t sear me, too. One thing is for damn sure: It only made it that much harder to let her go, to walk her upstairs and into the arms of another man. And it was already hard as hell.
“Maybe you shouldn’t come up,” she says hesitantly, pulling away and looking at my lips rather than my eyes.
“Why?”
Her voice cracks. “Because if you do, I’m not sure I can go through with this.”
“Then don’t! I told you that I’d–”
“I know what you said. And you know what I said. So here we are. Stuck. Just like I knew we would be.” It’s her turn to lean her head back and exhale. She closes her eyes for a few seconds and then opens them, sitting up straighter and squaring her shoulders in determination. “But it’s what I have to do. You…you don’t have to wait for me,” she says, gaze focused on the windshield.
“Hey,” I say, squeezing her hand until she looks at me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her smile is small, but relieved. “I’ll go up by myself. There’s no reason to make this worse than it already is.”
“But I want to take you up.”
“I didn’t mean for you.”
What am I supposed to say to that? I don’t want to make it harder for her, too. So I won’t. I won’t to, I won’t argue with her on this. As tough as it is to sit here and let this happen, some part of me knows that it has to. Until she tells me what the hell is going on, I can’t help her.
“I’ll be right here. Waiting.”
She turns toward the door and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she abandons the handle and flings herself into my arms, kissing me with all the passion I know her to be capable of. “I won’t be long.”
I say nothing because that’s a promise we both know she can’t make.
I watch her until she’s through the doors and out of sight. The only constructive thing I can think of with which to busy myself is looking over the files Finch mentioned. Maybe there will be something in them that will help me figure out what’s going on and how I can help get Tommi out of this mess.
I log on through the secure connection and browse through the pages. Nothing really noteworthy comes up.
But then I come to a juvie record for Tommi. I’m not too surprised to find that she’d been dinged a couple of times for petty theft and once on a drug charge. What does surprise me is the intake information on the sealed record. I stare at it for several seconds, my mind sure that my eyes are missing something. Putting something in the wrong spot. Misreading something. But the more I stare at it, the clearer it becomes.
Name: Tommy Lawrence
Age: 16
Sex: M
Sex. Male.
My pulse races. I can’t make myself look away from the little screen of my smartphone. What the hell am I missing? I know this can’t be right. I mean, I’ve had sex with Tommi a couple dozen times in the last few days. I think I would’ve noticed if she were a he.
Wouldn’t I?
My palms start to sweat as I think back to those late night talk shows that have interviews with people who’ve had a sex change. All the hormones they’re given to accentuate certain traits while suppressing others, hormones that give guys tits and a smooth face. And the surgeries, the procedures they have for removing penises and making vaginas.
I wipe my damp brow and force myself to think as rationally as I can. There’s no reason to panic. There has to be an explanation. A very reasonable explanation. I mean, no doctor in the world could engineer a pussy as perfect as Tommi’s. All pink and wet. Lips almost shaved smooth. Clit that reacts to my slightest touch. Muscles that squeeze my cock so tight I wanna scream. Only God can make a body like that.
I relax a little in my seat. I’m finally able to exhale, feeling better about this information already. But only a little. In another way, I’m even more keyed up.
I knew Tommi was hiding something. I guess she’s hiding more than I ever imagined. Obviously, she’s not Tommi Lawrence. But then the question is: Who is she? And where is Tommy Lawrence?
Before I can even formulate a next move, I hear a door open. It whips so hard it hits the stopper on the concrete wall. Tommi is practically running toward me. Something’s wrong.
My heart leaps up into my throat. Chest gets tight, lungs strain to move, pupils dilate–my entire body is ready for battle.
I get out and meet her in front of the truck, taking her upper arms and bending to look into her eyes. “What’s wrong? Did he hurt you? So help me God–”