Page 101 of Jax
Maddy pulled a small tin box from the blanket nest like it held ancient power, her eyes lit with the kind of mischievous glee usually reserved for teenagers summoning spirits behind a locked door.
“Ladies,” she said, popping the lid with theatrical flair, “I present to you... the Safe Word Edition.”
Bellamy perked up instantly, practically crawling over Maddy’s legs to get a better look. “You finished it?” she asked with the reverence of someone witnessing the unveiling of the Mona Lisa. “You really finished it?”
“I did.” Maddy grinned. “Forty cards. All hand-drawn. All wildly inappropriate. And possibly illegal in seven states.”
I blinked, equal parts intrigued and horrified. “Wait. You made these?”
“With Sharpies and spite,” Maddy said proudly. “Each one is a Would You Rather question specifically designed to make you deeply question your morals, taste in men, and ability to maintain eye contact after answering.”
Bellamy was already shuffling the deck like a Vegas pro. “We’re starting immediately.”
I smirked “Does this game have rules? Or are we just playing until someone combusts from shame?”
“Same rules as Fight Club,” Maddy replied. “But with more glitter.”
Bellamy pulled the first card with dramatic flair. “Would you rather get spanked by Sully while reciting Shakespeare, or be tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross by Niko while he reads IRS tax code at you in Russian?”
I choked on my wine. “What the hell kind of choices are those?”
“The kind that tell us who you really are,” Bellamy said, wagging the card like it held the secrets of the universe. “Now, answer.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Took another sip of Prosecco and narrowed my eyes. “Sully. But only if I get to pick the monologue.”
Bellamy whooped. Maddy nearly fell backward off the couch from laughing. “You’re a slut for sonnets,” she gasped. “I knew it.”
Bellamy flipped another card. “Would you rather let Carrick edge you for three hours with a violet wand, or go one round with Deacon using nothing but a feather and a blindfold?”
My jaw dropped. “These are not ‘Would You Rathers.’ These are criminally specific character assassinations.”
“And yet,” Bellamy said, eyes gleaming, “you’re considering it.”
“Three hours?” I muttered, calculating. “I’m not even sure what a violet wand is, but I get the feeling Carrick would weaponize it like it’s a damn scalpel. But Deacon’s got that scary-silent thing going on...”
“Exactly.” Maddy raised her glass. “No right answers. Only chaos.”
“Fine.” I sighed. “Carrick. But I want a safe word, and a hydration clause.”
Bellamy high-fived Maddy like they’d won a bet. “She’s one of us.”
I groaned and buried my face in a pillow. “You all are menaces.”
Bellamy winked. “You’re among perverts. Embrace it.”
“And you made a whole deck of these?” I asked, muffled by the pillow. “How do you have this much free time?”
“I’m unemployed and emotionally unstable,” Maddy chirped. “It’s a hobby.”
Bellamy leaned closer, brandishing another card like a dare. “Would you rather watch Jax lecture you on the psychological roots of obedience while slowly unbuttoning his shirt, or have him interrogate you in a dimly lit room about why your thighs clenched just thinking about it?”
“Jesus Christ,” I said, half-laughing, half-dying. “This is entrapment.”
“Answer the question,” Bellamy said, smirking like the devil dipped in glitter.
I took a long drink, met her gaze, and said, “Both. Back to back. I want the full thesis presentation, and the follow-up interrogation.”
Maddy fell off the couch. Bellamy clutched her chest like she’d been blessed by Dionysus.
