Page 40 of Hell In A Handbasket
“Ew.” I finger-comb my hair, drawing the long strands up and bundling them at the top of my head, then I peel the elastic from my wrist and fasten the ponytail in place. “Aubree?MyAubree?”
“Tim’s Aubree,” he counters, waiting for me to finish my hair, then he takes my hand and leads me toward the front of the bus. “You wanna play a little basketball? Get sweaty with the Checkmate giants?”
“Not particularly.”
“Could probably keep Cato on your team. He’d win and slap your ass to celebrate.”
“Definitely solidifying my decision to say no.”
“Spoilsport.” He smacks the latch release and waits for the door to move out of the way, then he moves down the steps and onto the dirt, but he keeps hold of my hand and helps me down. “Are you still super sad about the Soph thing?”
And just like that, my pleasant mood flitters away, replaced with a scowl.
“Like, on a scale of one-a single, stray tear rolling onto your cheek-and ten-torrential tears and pure heartache because of her betrayal-where are you at?”
“I’m notsadabout what she did,” I huff. “I’m intolerant. She wasted our time, screwed over the trust I thought we had, and made others worry for no reason. Felix is stressed the hell out, and?—”
“Yeah, bitch!” We come to the front of the bus and stop as Felix’s whoop echoes through the air. He viciously slams the basketball to Kane’s belly and waves his hand in the guy’s face.
And Kane… glowers.
“You’re playing against a kid. A fucking child! And you can’t win.”
“I don’t think Felix is stressed anymore,” Archer teases.
I firm my jaw and rotate my head to look up into his eyes.
“I’m just saying,” he laughs. But he pretends to scratch his face, using the action to cover his smiling lips. “Christabelle looks comfortable.” He gestures toward the woman lounging on a camp chair, one leg slung over the arm while she nurses an icy bottle of water on her lap. “Tim is relaxed. Even Micah is chill.” He points to the middle Malone brother… still in his black pants. Unlike Felix, he wears his shirt. But it’s unbuttoned, at least, the crisp white fabric flapping in the gentle breeze. “If Micah’s chill, theneveryoneis chill.”
“Oh my gosh, she’s adorable!” Jess ignores her husband and his plight on the temporary basketball court. Instead, she hovers at Fletch’s side, slamming her hands to his shoulder and dragging him down so she can get a look at the phone. “Hi, Mia! My name is Jess. You’re so cute!”
Archer brings his eyes to me. “Fletch is happy, too. And Mia.”
“Everyone except me, then.” I brush him off and start toward Fletch, since he’s near the tub of water bottles anyway. I sweep up a bottle and crack the lid while I walk, then I come around to Fletch’s other side and find Mia bouncing on the screen.
“It’s Aunty Minka!” Her smile spreads across her face, her hair already brushed into cute pigtails, and her clothes are crisp and matching.Fifi is already doing a better job than Fletch.“Hi Aunty Minka! Hello!”
“Hi, Sweetpea. You’re up kinda early, huh? And already dressed.”
“I woke up a little bit early,” she giggles. “Fifi said I could share the bedwifher last night, so when I woke up this morning and remembered she was there, I got excited and accidentally bumped her awake.”
“Aw shucks,” I snicker. “Poor Fifi. Is she mad at you for waking her up?”
“No! She’s making scramby eggs for breakfast, then we’re going for a drive.” She gasps, loud and dramatic. “Oh my gosh, Daddy! I forgot to tell you!”
“Tell me what?” He elbows Jess back, slapping her hand when she attempts to take the phone. “What did you forget to tell me?”
“I went in a limousine!”
“What?!”
“It’s true!” She sprints through the apartment, shuffling the phone until we’re treated to a view of her legs and a pair of denim shorts with little daisies sewn along the hem. “Fifi!” She skids into the kitchen. “Fifi! Tell Daddy how we went in the limousine! He doesn’t even believe me.”
Struck with horror and caught unaware, Fifi merely stares into the phone, then back at Mia. “You go talk to your dad, pretty girl. You can tell him the story.”
“But you tell it better!” she whines. “Tell him how we wore a pretty dress and went to dinner at the pretty restaurant. And we rode in a limousine and didn’t even have to open our own doors.”
“Sounds like you just told us the story,” Fletch chuckles. “You went fancy last night, huh? Daddy’s out of town for a matter ofhours, and you already have a bustling social life? Sheesh.”
