Page 39 of Game Change

“Um, no, we won’t,” Raven says as she arrives at our table. “Come on. I want to go to the lounge and listen to some music.”

“I’m not done yet,” Brynne says. “I have a few more things to say to him.” She gestures in my direction. “And don’t even think of micromanaging me at work.”

Having had enough of her, I stand and tower over her. Ian pushes me back down in my chair and clamps both hands on my shoulders.

“I don’t consider you my manager.”

“Well, the thing about that is, I am your manager whether youconsiderit or not. That’s how management works. It’s not a state of mind. It just is,” I announce.

“Go to hell,” she says.

“It looks like I’m already there, and you’re part of the welcoming committee.”

“In my opinion,” Brody says, “Hell is a construct created to control—"

“Brynne, that’s enough,” Raven says, cutting off whatever Brody was going to say. “Let’s get out of here.

On her way back to her table, Brynne sticks her hand in my mashed potatoes. I snatch her wrist and lick the potatoes from her hand. She tries to pull away, but I tighten my grasp while I lick between her fingers. Everyone at the table stares at me wide-eyed. Once I’m done, I drop her wrist. She wipes her hand on my shirt, and I grab her wrist again.

“Next time someone pays for your dinner, you should learn to say thank you.”

“I don’t need you to pay for my dinner or to do anything for me,” she mutters and walks away.

The family at the table next to me stares, including the gray-haired old woman.

“She’s my girlfriend,” I lie. “She’s just mad at me.”

“Well, dear, if she’s mad, it’s not her hand you need to lick,” the old woman says.

“Grandma!” someone admonishes.

“So, do you guys want to go to the lounge next door?” Malcolm asks once Brynne is back at her table. “Maybe there will be some less hostile women there.”

Chapter 19

Brynne

I hate clubs, and I hate loud music. The lounge is crowded and extra loud tonight, and my mood hasn’t improved since we left the restaurant and walked here. We find a booth in a secluded area after another group leaves. I’ve already had too much to drink and don’t plan on having any more. Raven slides in next to me, and Amira slides in after her.

They’re playing soft rock, which is not my type of music. I eye my wrist, and once again, I’m not wearing a watch, but I know I won’t be here for more than thirty minutes.

A server comes, and I order water while my friends get more mixed drinks. It doesn’t matter. We’re not driving, and they are spending the night at my condo. Amira’s phone buzzes on the table and Mom flashes on her screen. She hits ignore.

“I’m about sick of your damn sister,” Raven yells over the loud music. “Someone needs to beat her ass and knock some sense into her.”

Amira waves her hand. “No Ashley talk tonight, please,” she says, and I nod. I’ve only met her sister a few times, and those times were enough. It’s clear she’s the daughter who gets all the attention, and Amira gets the scraps. Her father tries, but her mother has her head so far up Ashley’s ass, I wonder how she breathes.

The server returns with our drinks, and I down half my water in seconds. The music changes to something I like, and I remove my coat, ready to relax for the next few minutes. Only a few seconds later, the guys and Makayla stroll in.

“Let’s ignore them,” I say loud enough for them to hear.

Instead of taking the hint and going to another part of the lounge, they take the table next to us and move it closer to our booth.

I stick my nose in the air and look away, but Makayla slides next to Amira. I drop my scowl. She doesn’t deserve it, and I refuse to be an asshole to her. Unlike her brother, she seems pleasant enough.

“No, Killah talk,” I say, and she smiles. “Tell us about the wedding.” She pulls out her phone and shows us pictures of events leading to the wedding. Amira snatches the phone from her and looks through everything, but I think she’s only looking for pictures of Malcolm.

“You looked so beautiful. So happy,” Amira says. “Is this your mom?”

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