Page 40 of Keeper
“Yeah, lovely,” Belle answers for me. “I have a question, though.” She gets an evil look in her eyes as she gestures between me and Booker. “Are you two coming as each other’s dates to the wedding?”
We both laugh awkwardly and sputter, “No.”
“No?” she repeats, her voice rising at the end with suspicion.
Booker looks at me again, and I shake my head as he says, “No. Just mates. You know. Booker and Poppy.” His hands hold onto Rocky for comfort as the skin on his neck turns red.
“Perfect! Then you can each bring dates. My parents aren’t fucking coming, and I paid a bomb to have fresh lobster brought in.”
“Erm…I’m not sure—” I stammer and Booker interrupts.
“What about the paparazzi—” he adds.
Belle cuts him off. “We’ve tipped the paparazzi off with a fake location and a fake date. Just don’t tell your guests where you’re taking them and we’ll be fine. I need this, guys. My parents are pompous, egotistical prats, and I want my wedding to be a fun party. It’s the anti-wedding basically. It would really mean a lot to me if you both brought dates so I don’t have to stare their fucking lobsters in the eyeballs and have aBridesmaidsgiant cookie freak-out moment, all right?”
She shoots us a crazy smile. A frightening smile. A smile that leaves no more room for argument.
We both nod.
“All right then, I’ll just erm…leave you ladies to your evening.” Booker wiggles Rocky’s sleeping hand goodbye and strides out of the flat.
When the door clicks shut, all three of us exhale with relief. “Do you think he heard us?” I ask, my eyes wide and worried.
“Not a chance,” Belle replies confidently.
“What the fuck are you trying to start with this date thing, Belle? I don’t want to watch Booker with another girl,” I state, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to sulk too much.
“Oh, you’ll see,” she smirks and sits back, mirroring my stance and blowing on her nails like she just finished an epic bout. “Just get yourself a fucking date.”
I nod and look at her and Indie. “So, do you guys want to talk about wedding music now?”
Belle laughs. “Fuck no. That was complete bullshit. We just wanted to drill you about Booker.”
Before the end of the night, I realise that Belle and Indie are master manipulators. Grade-A, psych ward level shit. Like maximum penitentiary prison type psychoses. Like Harley Quinn and The Joker fromSuicide Squadare fuzzy puppies with good temperaments next to them.
After about four more Tequila Sunrises, we decide to map out my next two weeks leading up to the wedding. It’s aimed at setting things up so that the wedding will be Booker’s breaking point, so to speak.
Belle titled the list:
HOW TO GET BOOKER HARD by Dr. Love.
I might have side-eyed her concerning the title, but their suggestions are pretty spectacular.
AFTER THE MESSIWALKEDinto last night at my flat, I decided to crash at Vi and Hayden’s. I needed some space to think. To clear my head. I wanted to stave off any more “slips” from happening with Poppy, but Belle’s request for us to bring dates got right up my nose. Why the fuck does she think we need to bring dates to a small family wedding? It makes no fucking sense. I have half a mind to call Tanner and bend his ear about the whole bloody thing.
It’s early when I hear Rocky stirring. Vi’s flat is a massive penthouse on the eleventh floor, but it’s only a one-bedroom. That means Rocky sleeps in their bedroom in a cot. I rise from the sofa in the living room and tiptoe over to their door, hoping to nip in and grab her before she wakes them. They had a special dinner with Hayden’s family last night and were out pretty late.
I peer in through the door. Vi and Hayden are out cold in Vi’s big gothic glamour bed. Bruce’s head pops up off the floor from where he rests, watching me as I sneak in and grab Rocky. Her blonde hair is in wild sprays around her face, and her blue eyes are bright from a good twelve-hour night’s rest.
“Hey, beautiful.” I hold her to my bare chest and kiss her on the head. “Let’s give Mummy and Daddy a lie in.”
I walk out of the room and Bruce follows on my heels. I flinch at his loud clacking paws on the tile, but they don’t seem to stir. I make quick work of changing Rocky’s nappy and heating up a bottle. Then I take her and Bruce out onto the large balcony for a morning cuddle. Bruce can cuddle himself, the slobbering beast.
I stretch out on a lounge chair and inhale deeply as the bustling noise of a busy London Saturday morning buzz all around me. Rocky guzzles her bottle, watching me with her striking blue eyes the whole time. She looks so peaceful, so at ease with herself. She has nothing to trouble her yet.
“You’re up early,” Vi’s voice calls from the doorway.
I turn to see her shuffle out in her pyjamas complete with bunny slippers. Bruce trots over to greet her with a slobbering nuzzle as she leans down and strokes Rocky on the head. “Morning, Adrienne. How was she last night?”
