Page 2 of Payback
One night, no strings, and a payback to rival what those two assholes put me through. Then I’m back on a plane to Chicago to rebuild what’s left of my semblance of a life.
“Tanner and Booker are picking you up outside,” Vi explains, cutting into my Dr. Evil scheming. “They’ll be in a big, ghastly truck, so you shouldn’t miss them.”
I smile as faint memories of my cousins seep into my mind. It doesn’t surprise me that the Harris Brothers drive a big truck. They were never known to be discreet, which is what made them so much fun. As an only child, Vi and her brothers were always the most exciting part of family gatherings for me. They were like a live circus act existing solely for my entertainment.
I lost touch with the Harris clan after the move, outside of regular emails with Vi. I do, however, try to keep up with the boys’ soccer careers because they’re actually really impressive.
The oldest Harris Brother, Gareth, is a defender for Manchester United. Camden just signed with Arsenal a month ago, leaving his twin, Tanner, and their youngest brother, Booker, the last two still playing for the local London club, Bethnal Green F.C.
“Do Tanner and Booker know you set me up with their teammate?” I ask as I make my way to the passenger pickup area.
“Erm, not exactly. Tanner’s been a bit of a mess lately since Camden left the team, so I didn’t want to stir things up quite yet.”
“Won’t he figure it out at the wedding?” I ask, my face scrunching up with anxiety over how badly that could go down.
Vi scoffs. “If I’m there to run interference, they’ll be quiet as church mice. Being pregnant has made them treat me with kid gloves, so my large circumference should work to our advantage. It’s basically my super power.”
This makes me smile. “Lucky for me, pregnancy doesn’t seem to affect your badass wing-woman skills.”
“Not one bit,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to see you!”
We finish our chat just as I burst through the airport doors and into the damp summer air of the outskirts of London. Before I even have a chance to take in the scenery, my eyes zero in on something horrendous.
A big black pickup is parked by the curb, smack dab in front of the door. Standing up on the tailgate is a well over six-foot blonde, bearded animal with a man bun, inked arms, and a shit-eating grin to rival Jack Nicholson. As if his location in the bed of the truck alone isn’t conspicuous enough, he’s holding up a large sign that reads: WELCOME HOME FROM PRISON, COUSIN ALICE.
I stop midstride with my carry-on clutched firmly in my grasp and, to my horror, his eyes land on me.
“Alice?” The Big Foot-looking man shouts my name loudly over the traffic, and the people walking by turn to gawk at me.
I do a quick glance down the curb to see if I can lose him and hail a cab, but I know it’s no use when he adds, “Booker, it’s her! It’s Allie!”
My eyes cut to the cab of the truck as Booker hops out of the driver’s seat and makes his way toward me. His dark hazel eyes are squinting sympathetically as he pushes back his short brown hair. “I’m so sorry about Tanner. He’s a special kind of wanker.” He reaches for my bag and shakes his head like this is a normal occurrence and he’s powerless against him.
Tanner puts a foot on the edge of the truck bed and drops lithely to the concrete. He still has that smile as he approaches, hovering over me like a giant. “Bring it in, cuz.” His big arms wrap around me nearly twice as he lifts me up in a bear hug. “I told Booker I’d be able to spot you.” He ruffles my long, golden hair, extracting wisps from their proper place and creating a curtain over my eyes. “I remember that one time I shampooed this mop with mud because I told you it would help your boobies come in.”
I now appreciate the protective shield of hair as my face bursts into flames. “Thankfully, my boobs came in all on their own, no thanks to your cosmetology skills.” I push my hair out of my face and glance down at the sign. “Prison, Tanner? Really?”
He holds it up again and shrugs. “Well, your flight from Chicago was delayed a whole day, so I had extra time on my hands.”
Booker clears his throat and adds, “Speaking of time, we need to get moving. The reception for those of us not important enough to be invited to the ceremony is in a couple of hours, and I’m sure you want to get cleaned up.”
I make a half-hearted attempt to fix my hair and catch sight of Booker’s dimples as he tries to conceal a chuckle at the state of me. I follow them to the truck and mumble under my breath, “God, it’s good to be back.”
Sandwiched between Booker and Tanner for the forty-minute drive to the hotel, it’s fun to listen to their British accents as they ramble on and on. Mine is nearly nonexistent after being in the States for so long, but it slips out every now and again from being around my father all the time.
More than their accents, it’s even more fun being caught up on all the Harris family happenings. Booker is still living in their dad’s mansion in Chigwell, though he may be moving into a place of his own next year. Vi is living with her fiancé, Hayden, but they are holding off on a wedding until the baby comes. Tanner’s twin, Camden, is apparently all but married off after falling deeply in love with his knee surgeon only a few weeks ago. And Tanner admits he’s in the middle of taking a naked tour of East London…Whatever the hell that means.
When they ask me about my relationship status, I have a sudden case of word vomit and end up sharing far more than I intended.
“The boyfriend is nonexistent on the account that I found him fucking my stepsister, slash former roommate, slash former best friend inmybed of all places. As if our very adequate two-bedroom apartment didn’t have enough square footage for him to slip his micropenis in, they decided infesting my space with their sex drippings would be a blast. It’s comical really, because he’s been a jealous freak our entire relationship, barely wanting me to look at other men, let alone talk to them. He’d probably be jealous of you two even after being told we share a bloodline.”
I stop talking and the cab of the truck grows eerily silent for a long, awkward length of time. Jeez…Did I say too much? Heck, Tanner was nattering about his sexual escapades, so I thought my drama would be par for the course. It felt good letting it all out with Vi, but I apparently should have kept my mouth shut with her brothers.
Just when I’m about to say something to lighten the mood, Booker interrupts me with his stone-cold voice. “Name. We need a name.”
I frown at him and Tanner barks next. “An address would suffice. I have a former teammate who plays for Chicago Fire. He owes me a favour.”
“Yes. Mitchem would do the job properly,” Booker adds through clenched teeth. “Give us your bloke’s work address. This prat deserves public humiliation. Something to make him lose his job. What a worthless fucking sod of a man…”
