Page 297 of Satan's Spawn
I look over at her, ten feet away at the bar with Hendrix, a genuine laugh bubbling from her lips for the first time since she found out I’m getting put away.
I have about ninety-six hours left of freedom, so the Royals are having an impromptu send off for their leader.
Since said leader is limited on travel, thanks to surrendering his passport and the nano bomb digging into his fucking ankle, they’re sending him off with a party in Levi’s mansion.
“She don’t even have her license, man,” Riggs argues over the music thumping from the speakers around the acre lawn.
“She’s about to!” Rebecca sings back, and Riggs gives her a “sure, sure” nod of his head, because she still hasn’t managed to pass her drivers test.
“Time for shots, bitches!” Saint jumps up from behind the bar holding two bottles of Cîroc, scaring the shit out of Rebecca and Hendrix, along with the other girls standing around it waiting for the bartender Saint most likely told to take a hike.
“You made me spill my fucking Martini!” Hendrix shouts, her arms wide as she gapes down at her soaking wet white tank top.
“Don’t worry, Hen, I know a great way to clean it off.” He sticks his tongue out, pretending to lick her.
Hendrix swings around, stomping her way back over to us with a now see-through tight shirt.
Rebecca follows behind with her vodka intact, and Riggs stands so she can sit next to me. When she does, I stretch an arm over her shoulder.
“How you holdin’ up, Bex?” Levi broaches the subject everyone is trying to avoid with a pull of his blunt. “I need to strip you of all your shoe laces or what?” He blows out the smoke, resting a fresh pair of Jordans on the table between us. “Cuz we already know our boy won’t have a choice.”
I’m shooting daggers at him as Rebecca looks down at her drink. “My heart is hurting for sure, but I have faith in us.”
I run lazy fingers down her arm, and she looks up at me with glossed eyes.
“We got this, Little Ghost,” I say, winking. “A piece of devil’s food cake.”
She snorts, a sad smile weighing on her lips. “You really are so stupid.”
“Stupid handsome.”
She extends her neck, kissing my chin. “Very stupid handsome.”
After a lingering glance between us, Rebecca clears her throat, regarding Levi again. “To answer your question, Leviathan, there’s no reason to take my laces. Especially since I only own two pairs of shoes that actually have them.”
Chuckles fill the air around us, mostly from Levi and Riggs across from us because Archer is whispering fresh gossip in Hendrix’s ear as they stand at the far end of the patio.
Then Saint appears with a tray of over a dozen shots and two fresh Martinis. The same exact ones Hendrix spilled a few minutes ago.
“Over compensating for something?” I say through the corner of my mouth when he leans down to hand me a shot.
“What? Bitches be thirsty…” He disregards my insinuation and goes back to distributing the alcohol.
If I’m stubborn…this mofo is a fucking bull.
When all of us have a drink in our hand, Saint booms for everyone around us to “shut the front door ’cause he’s got something to say”.
The music cuts and he jumps atop one of Levi’s Mom’s imported Italian loveseat. “Listen up friends and fuckers!” He holds an arm out to me. “We’re here to celebrate the final days of my best friend being a free man.” A low groan rumbles in my chest when I feel Rebecca’s shoulders drooping. “So in true Riverside fashion, the only way he leaves this house is if he’s carried out!”
Cheers erupt, glasses are raised, and before I even get to take my shot new drinks are lining up around me.
I throw back the tequila, deciding the best way to beat the ticking clock is to forget about it completely.
* * *
“I needyou to do something for me, Lavell.” Leaning my shoulder against one of the pergolas, I keep an eye on Rebecca drunk dancing on the grass, and take a long drag of my cigarette.
Saint spins to face me, crossing arms over his chest. “Hit me wit’ it, man.”
