Page 126 of Songbird: Black Kite
The woman laughed, her cackle setting my teeth on edge.
“Hello, Denise,” Wren replied woodenly. Her face was smiling, but it was nothing like the smiles she’d been gifting me with all evening. This one was brittle and painful looking, her eyes dull and lifeless.
“It’s so surprising seeing you here,” the woman went on, either completely oblivious to Wren’s discomfort or reveling in it.
Either way, that put her on my shit list.
“Jason and I come here every week,” she went on, her gaze moving to the man who had come in with her, but hadn’t seemed to notice she’d not followed him to their table. “But in all the years we’ve been eating here, I’ve never seenyou.But that’s hardly surprising, though, is it? I mean, this type of place isn’t exactly your scene.” Her smile widened, and the gleam in her eyes turned positively evil.
I knew it was coming; it was a look I’d seen numerous times on Tori’s face, when she was about to humiliate someone and was absolutely thrilled by the prospect.
And sure enough, the next words out of her mouth were weaponized to perfection.
“They must be having a coupon night or something, right? How else would Grand Rapid’s resident trash whore be able to even get through the door?”
“What the fuck, lady?” I said, standing from my chair. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Denise stared at me, her eyes wide as I stood, glowering down at her. For a fraction of a second, I could see the fear in her eyes, but like any professional bitch, she hid her weakness and doubled down on the bullshit instead.
“Oh, how cute. You found yourself a trashy little boyfriend, too.” Denise eyed me, her gaze bouncing from my long hair to the leather boots I was wearing under my dark wash jeans. I could read her assessment like a book, and I could see the minute she began to doubt herself. Any socialite worth her salt would recognize designer clothes when they saw them. “Looks like you might have snagged one with at leastsomemoney.” Turning back to Wren, she asked, “He’s not married like the last one, is he?”
“Listen, lady,” I started, ready to lay into her. Wren may be willing to let this bitch talk to her like that, but I sure as hell wasn’t. But before I could even begin, another voice interrupted me.
“Holy shit!”
It was the woman’s husband; he’d finally realized she hadn’t followed him to their table and had come looking for her.
He’d also recognized me.
“Dude!” he said, a huge smile breaking across his face. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe it’s you.”
“Jason,” Denise hissed, but he wasn’t listening, having gone full fanboy the minute he’d realized who I was.
“I’m Jason McQueen,” he blurted, one hand to his chest as though I should be as impressed by him as he was by me. “Man,” he went on, physically moving his wife out of the way so he could get closer to me, holding up a hand for me to clasp, which I pointedly ignored. “You guys fuckin’ rule,” he went on, completely unphased by my rejection of his weird bro-hug thing.
“Jason, what the hell are you doing?” Denise was the angry one now.
“Babe,” he said, looking at her like she was dumb. “Babe, this is Hawk Jameson.” When Denise just blinked at him, he went on, speaking slowly. “He’s the lead singer ofBlack Kite.” Still, Denise did nothing but frown. Jason went on, “You know. That song that was playing when we—”
“Jason!”
Ignoring the look of shock on his wife’s face, Jason turned back to me. “Man, I was gutted when you guys broke up. Your album,Holy Trinity,changed my fuckin’ life, man.”
That album was the biggest pile of shit we’d ever produced. It was nothing but soulless garbage about banging women and defying authority.
Of course, it was this douchebag’s favorite. He probably lost his fuckin’ virginity to it, thinking he was hot shit, banging a cheerleader in the backseat of his daddy’s Mercedes.
Jason continued to spew platitudes, going on and on about his favorite songs, but while he talked, I was watching Denise. With every word that Jason spoke, I could see the calculation in her eyes. I watched as she tried to figure out how to use this.
Useme.
Because that’s what women like her did. They saw me as a tool, a way to make themselves more important in the eyes of others. They never gave a shit about me as a person, and even Jason here cared more about his own experiences with the music than he did anything else.
No, Denise was going to take this situation, and she was going to make it something she could benefit from.
I just fuckin’ knew it.
“So, Hawk, is it? How do you know Wren?”
