Page 141 of Biggest Player
Landon whistles low. “He called while you were fucking? No way.”
“She was taking off her makeup, and I was sitting on the bed keeping her company, calm down,” I mutter, frustrated. “It was already a rough day, and the convo with Trent made it so much fucking worse.”
I give him the scoop about Colton stopping by—what I’d heard and the things I had said.
“Sounds like a game of ‘who’s the bigger moron’ when it comes to Margot.” He laughs.
I sigh. “I need advice, dude, not you sitting there stating the obvious.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Give me a damn second, I’m processing. This is such a major fuckup.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He nods. “You’re welcome.”
I scowl. “Not helpful.”
After several long, painful seconds—after staring out into his yard aimlessly, as if the answer to my problems were written in the clouds—Landon addresses me again.
“Real talk: I think the best way back into her good graces is through her kid.”
Is he out of his mind?I can’t use Wyatt to win her back—she would kill me!
“Her kid? Now you’re talking crazy. That’s fucking creepy.”
“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say!”
I doubt he knows either.“Spit it out then!”
Landon clears his throat. “What I meant was—if you plan to apologize, enlist the kid’s help. If you have the kid on your side, it’s two against one. Hasn’t her daughter gotten you out of trouble once before?”
He knows all about my date with Madisson and how Wyatt came to my rescue.
I rub my chin. “That’s not a bad idea.” Still, “It’s a kid. I can’t contact her.”
So how would I get her help? I can’t text her—even if she does have a cell phone, you cannot slide into a child’s DMs.I might occasionally be a dipshit, but I’m smart enough to know at least that much.
“Don’t show up to her house without gifts,” Landon adds. “Like flowers or something expensive. Earrings always work.”
“For her or for the kid?” I grab a pen and notepad from the side table and scribble away.
“Her.”
Gifts for her. Earrings,I write. “Wait. So am I not going over there, or am I?”
This has got me so fucked up I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.
“In my opinion, you’re going to have to convince her to see you again,” Landon instructs with the authority of a man who bosses other men around for a living. “Invite the daughter, and when Margot leaves the room to pee or whatever, you begin plotting against her with her kid.”
“Leaves to pee, plot with Wyatt.” I scribble that down. “Right. Got it.”
“Don’t fuck this up.”
“’Kay. I won’t.”
I mean.
I’ll probably fuck it up ...
