"Kelly said she talked to you, not the other way around."Traci stood, scuffing her feet."Did you get why she was mad?" I asked after a minute."Yeah, I...guess I never thought ... I ... I wish I'd never talked to Peter."You and me both. "Trace, I don't want to pry." Pry, hell. I don't want to know. "I don't know if you and Robbie ... or you and Kelly ... still ... I mean, if Peter had found out the hard way, walking in on you ... it would have been worse." That had to be the most disjointed. Son of a bitch fired me," or, "I quit on the son of a bitch." Whatever."Ohhhh, poor baby. Wanna take it out on me?" Or "Want me to take it out on you?"Invariably, I would.SO IT went. This went on for far longer than either of us had any right to consider proper. We still both had to work because the damn ends kept needing to be met, but we didn't care. We were alive, and we had enough to eat and drink and fuck and occasionally had a hospital bill to contend with, and we were happy.SpaceI SHOULD. More

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