Death Is My BFFLAD (Book Two Original Series)

Chapter 4: Sugar-Low

 “Faith, please don’t lick my car. You need to stop licking my things,” I heard David say in almost a whine and then I was held again for only a moment, my feet off the ground. I didn’t even know I was licking the car….again?

Now I remembered, I had licked David’s shirt that one time when I was given drugs by that taxi driver. David told me not to file a complaint because there were so many instances just like my own that the police wouldn’t even care.

 I heard the passenger door click open and my butt hit a squishy leather seat.

The driver’s door opened and in came my Boss with a deep sigh. He put his hand on the back of my seat and backed the car out of the spot before speeding down the narrow road. It was obvious this was the last place he wanted to be with a glob of throw up on his pants. Cool air blasted into my face and I felt the rumble of the car as it turned on. I rolled my head gently over to the window and blinked a few times before shutting my eyes completely.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. We’re almost there and I don’t want to carry you inside.”

I carefully angled my head so I was facing David and asked in a soft voice, “What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re a tad feint,” he replied, his hands tight on the wheel. “Your skin was pretty warm before so I took you out of your jacket. Did you eat this morning?”

I shook my head. “I…don’t think so.”

“Well there we go,” he said and slipped on his aviators. The car’s speed slowed down and we pulled into a large parking lot. David got out of the car and came to my side where he opened the door and got to my level.

“Can you walk?”

I put a hand to my forehead and swiped it down my face. I was starting to feel a lot less sick and more stronger now that we were away from the street were the clown was.

“I don’t want to get up,” I said honestly. “I just want to go home… or go to the doctors. There’s something wrong with me--”

He made a face. “You’re already here, Faith, and I have work to do I can’t chauffer you around the—“

“David,” I said firmly as I massaged the sides of my nose. “Please just—“

“Can’t.”

“Then I’m not leaving this car,” I protested.

Suddenly, I was yanked out of the car. He wrapped an arm under my knees and one around my back and kicked the door shut. His long smooth strides made my stomach uneasy and I gripped the lapels of his shirt as if he would drop me at any moment.  

The flashes of the clown burned into my mind whenever I closed my eyes. Had I imagined the whole scenery? Was the David the one who got rid of it?

“There’s something wrong with me,” I mumbled over and over again into David’s shirt. He gripped me a bit tighter but made no move to speak to me. We were walking on a curb and I could see the beginning edges of the Devin & Son building. The rhythm of his steps started to make me drowsy and I closed my eyes once again, willing the images to leave.

David laughed. “You're just having a sugar low. I use to get those all the time. Whenever I step on a bump on the sidewalk you make a little noise.”

“Then stop stepping on the stupid bumps,” I growled crankily and dug my face into his armpit. He smelled delicious, like an assortment of spices and soap and I couldn’t help but want to snuggle closer to him. I heard the ding of the elevator and a whisper of voices moving past me but I refused to open my eyes.