Page 9 of Wild Card
“You're embarrassing me. Just say yes and put the damn ring on,” he whispers, and when I glance down between us, I notice the red velvet box in his hand.
“Holy shit, you're really not joking!” I slam my hand over my mouth. “Brett, we can’t get married, not yet. We hardly know each other.”
“Put the damn ring on, Ruby,” he hisses through his teeth, his temples starting to sweat as his face turns red with rage. “Put the ring on and we’ll talk about this later.” He takes the ring from the box and forces it roughly onto my finger.
“Ouch.” I moan before he takes my hand and turns around, pasting on a smile and leaving me no option but to smile along with him.
His father starts clapping over the silence and, eventually, the rest of the room catches up and erupts into applause. Mr. Porter steps up, being the first one to shake his son's hand and kiss my cheek.
“Congratulations,” he tells us, wrapping his arm around our shoulders and turning to pose for the camera that goes off and almost blinds me with the flash.
FIVE
Ash
I’ve been at this party a whole hour and still have nothing to go on. I’m starting to get impatient, so I take a seat on a log around the fire pit where it’s a little more crowded, and pull out a cigarette. I notice the two girls looking my way giggle at each other, so I tip my chin at 'em before I light up.
“You know, that cute little blonde ain’t as innocent as she looks.” Some kid takes a seat on the log beside me.
“You talkin’ from experience?” I snort a laugh at him.
“I wish! I could never get a girl like her.” Picking up a stick from the ground, he tosses it into the flames. “Ain’t seen you round here before; you new in town?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the girls.
“Just passing through. Heard this was the place to hang, but I gotta be honest, this party kinda blows.” I hope to get something outta this guy.
“It’s the best you're gonna get here in Cody.” He chuckles back at me. “You wanna beer?” he offers, leaning back and taking one outta the cool box behind him.
“Cheers.” I twist off the top and clang it against his.
“So, is beer all that's gettin’ passed out around here?” I push him for a little more.
“Stephan Michaels might have some green going,” he shrugs.
“Ain’t really green I’m lookin’ for.” I take a sip from my bottle and watch how the girls edge a little closer.
“Then you're asking the wrong guy.” The kid sighs. I figure he’s the type that never quite fits into a crowd. His clothes are too big for him and look faded, and no one around seems to be acknowledging him.
“Who should I ask?” I decide I’d like to wrap this up and get some action; sitting around and waiting for shit to happen ain’t ever been my style.
“You could try him.” I follow the kids' eyes to the guy on the other side of the fire pit. A typical fuckin’ jock, wearing a varsity jacket, who's telling some animated story that seems to have everyone surrounding him enthralled.
“Looks like a prick to me,” I say my thoughts out loud.
“Heisa prick, but everyone in this town seems to worship him,” my new friend tells me, throwing another stick at the fire
“He’s a long way from college, ain’t he?” I spent some time in Idaho when I first got outta jail, and I recognize the emblem on the back of his jacket.
“His folks live here in town, guess he came home for the weekend.”
“And does he come home for the weekend often?” I ask, wondering if this could be where the problem is coming from. He wouldn’t be the first kid on campus to get caught up in dealing,
“Well, these usually happen around once a month, like a celebration that he’s home.” He sniggers at me and knocks back more of his beer.
“Take it you ain’t his biggest fan?”
“We were in the same year through school; he made my senior year hell,” the kid admits, looking like he wants to do the guy some real damage.
“Thanks for the beer.” I stand up and make my way over, joining the small crowd that's gathered around him and listening to what he’s got to say.
