Page 19 of Biggest Player
“Not to get personal, but are you wearing an ankle monitor?”
Madisson’s petite frame shrugs, nonplussed. “Yes.”
I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that. At a loss for words, I let my mouth drop open. “Uh. Why?”
“I’m on probation.” Duh. “House arrest.”
No idea what to say to that.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t ankle monitors sometimes used to monitor alcohol consumption? One of my buddies was on probation in college; he had to wear one, too, and I remember him saying the bracelet utilized transdermal testing to detect liquor through the skin, using whatever crazy science-technology shit they use.
Or something.
If Madisson has a drink of wine, it will surely buzz.
I narrow my eyes at her across the table. “Are you supposed to be drinking?”
“Who’s going to tell my probation officer?” Her eyes sparkle, and her red lips curve into a sultry smile, especially when the server sets down our drinks. “You?”
Jesus Christ.
I cannot be seen with ... with afelon. “Have you been convicted, or are you awaiting trial?”
I’ve seen enough teammates who’ve had run-ins with the law to know how this shit works, especially rookies.
“It was a minor offense,” Madisson scoffs as she bites on her thumbnail, ignoring my hard gaze. “Chill out, I’m not a danger to the community.”
Chill out.
Those words rear their ugly head, coming back to haunt me at the most inopportune time, because I said the exact same ones to someone else only a short time ago.
Now I understand why Margot got so pissed off hearing them.
Chill out?
I don’t think so.
I lift my beer and take a drink so I have something to do with my hands other than pick at my napkin.
“What was the offense?” I blurt out. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Again, my date shrugs, the red sequin dress making a slow descent down her arm.
“Accidentally showing up at someone’s workplace.” She hesitates. “But, like—it was a total misunderstanding, and I only went there ’cause I had been drinking.”
“A drunken, accidental stalking?” I feel myself blinking rapidly. “Of who?”
“Some girl.”
She’s being deliberately vague. “What girl specifically?”
Her red pouty lips form the words. “My ex-boyfriend’s new skank of a girlfriend. Then him. But they’re full of crap. Why would I give a shit about either of them? She is a total downgrade.”
I mean—Madisson is attractive, no doubt about that.
But her behavior is as ugly as it gets.
And apparently she’s a criminal. They don’t strap ankle monitors on anyone and everyone for funsies—there is a reason the court ordered her to wear it, and I want no part of that.
