My head whips around so fast that my hair smacks her in the face. “Absolutely not. We can go ogle now, if you want, but there will be no after parties. Not in this town or with these people.” The firmness of my tone brokers no arguments. I will not be moved. Once she sees the determined set of my jaw and the slanting of my cold gray stare, she knows she can’t sway me.
“I swear you’re no fun, but fine. I’m calling in a rain check though. You’ll go to at least one party with me this year,” she concedes and her tone also says she won’t budge. But that’s a battle for another day.
* * *
We ended up winning the scrimmage by a field goal. It came down to the last possession of the game. I have a love and hate relationship with nail-biter games, because the level of intensity can cause a heart attack. I’m happy I decided to come, but even happier to be going home.
Being around this many assholes wears on my patience. Trisha made no more comments, but she was a sneer away from me helping her fix her face. I promise I’m not usually this aggressive. It’s just that this town and its inhabitants seem to bring out my fiercer side, which is another reason I know going to the after party would be a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
We’re almost at the spot where I parked my car when I realize I don’t see my car. I double check to make sure I am in the same row I parked in when we arrived. I see the marking for my row and look again to the spot where my car once sat, but it’s empty. My steps come to a halt and Shay stops beside me.
“This is where we parked, isn’t it?” I ask
“Yeah, E5 and we were in the middle right under the lamppost. Where’s your car?” She asks, bemused.
I let out a frustrated sigh, “I don’t know, but I know we parked it here.”
“Could it have been towed?” She seems to be talking more to herself than me, because the question comes out barely above a whisper, but it’s just loud enough for me to hear her.
“There’s no way. Look,” I point and continue, “every other car is still here. Why would they just tow mine and not anyone else’s?”
I have a feeling I know the answer to this question before I even finish asking it. And as if right on cue, the bitch brigade led by the queen bitch herself conveniently comes walking by. All of whom have shit eating grins a mile wide, on their faces.
“Awww,” Sam’s mocking concern grates on my nerves. “Has the poor trash misplaced her junk on wheels?” She continues her taunts as a crowd forms, smelling blood in the water. “It’s a wonder you thought you could park that rust bucket in this lot without it being towed. I mean obviously someone had to call and ensure the trash was taken out. It’s only a pity we can’t get you taken out along with the car, but don’t worry, it’s on my to-do list.”
The rage that fills my veins reaches a level that can’t be charted on the Richter scale. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you, you tyrannical cunt?”
I am about ten seconds away from breaking her face when I see the heirs have joined the crowd. I take a moment and start counting. I try to remember that they want to see me break. While these idiots have no idea that I’ll now need to pick up extra shifts to cover the cost of getting my car out of the impound lot, I can’t let that frustration make me do anything stupid. I have the kids. So, jail is not an option. Though the opportunity to punch the smug grin off of Sam’s face might be worth the bail money under normal circumstances.
After getting myself to a medium burn level of rage. I unfurl my hands and speak, “You know what? You aren’t worth the shit on the bottom of a pig’s ass.”
“You shouldn’t talk about your family like that. With a druggie alcoholic for a mother and deadbeat for a father, you should be nicer when you’re describing them,” she quips back.
Yup, I’m going to jail tonight.
I turn to Shay, right before I launch myself at Sam. “Shay, I hope you have bail money!”
“I’ve got a black card, Bish, I can buy the jail. Swing, I gotchu,” Shay encourages.
I just about black out, my shoulders set and my muscles coil, ready to TKO this bitch. Right as my feet push off the ground propelling me across the parking lot, strong arms envelop me. A warm baritone voice whispers in my ear, causing a shiver to travel the length of my body in less time than it takes me to blink.
“She’s not worth it. Let’s go get your car, Love.” My head angles up until I am looking into the concerned and angry eyes of August. I struggle in his hold, but his grip is firm. In other circumstances I might like being held against a muscled chest. However, right now he’s standing between the date my fist has with Sam’s face.
“Let. Me. Go,” I snap.
Instead, he holds tighter. “Never,” he whispers like a promise, an invisible contract sealing us together for life.
I peer over my shoulder, inhaling his campfire and spice scent as I work to get my temper under control. His eyes meet my stare head on before saying, “That’s it Riri, breathe me in again and let me be the balm to your anger.”
Yup, that’s enough to get my insides to turn to goo, but not enough to forget that we’re standing with an ever growing crowd of onlookers.
I suck in one more lungful of his intoxicating smell and step out of his grasp before responding, “Thank you I would appreciate a ride to my car.”
“It would be my pleasure to meet all of your needs,” the sly fuck says with a toothy grin, making it clear he means more than just taking me to get my car.
* * *
The steady hum of the music plays in the background as we make our way out of the sports complex to pick up my car. The towing company is located in Lincolnville, the town over from us. Because, of course, a town like Calloway would never let something like a tow yard sully their land.
“What are you thinking about so hard over there, Love? I don’t like seeing worry lines marring your beautiful face,” August says, assessing me without taking his eyes off the street.
Confused, the crease between my eyebrows grows deeper. “How do you know I have worry lines on my face? Your eyes haven’t left the road.”
A slow smirk paints the profile of his face, and the edge of his lips open to a knowing toothy smile.
“Your thoughts are screaming louder than the music in the car. Louder than the silence in between songs and awkward pauses in conversations. When something is causing the gears in your brain to work overtime, the seven freckles that dance between your eyes sink down to the bridge of your nose, creating three slight worry lines.”
My head snaps in his direction, almost causing seatbelt burn. How the hell does he know how many freckles I have between my eyes? I’m tempted to pull down the visor and confirm the number.
“Keeping a close eye on me are you?” I ask, proud that my tone doesn’t give away my complete and total shock.
“I thought you would’ve figured it out by now. I always have eyes on you,” he states with incontestable surety.
Snorting, I reply, “If you say so.” I don’t believe an ounce of his decree.
His rebuttal is only to smile wider as he turns into the entrance of the tow company. As his car pulls up to the door, I see a man standing outside next to my car. I thought for sure they’d have it in the impound lot. That’s usually standard procedure. I was preparing myself for the major hit to my pockets to get it out.
Once the car is in park I open the door at the same time I hear August’s door open.
“Thanks, Paul. If you ever see this car or get a call about it, ignore it. She’s never to be towed again,” August barks the last part of his command. My eyes lift in time to see the muscles in the angular set of his jaw flex.
I want to chime in and ask questions, but my car is not impounded, and by the sound of it won’t ever be.
“Sorry about that Mr. Grant. When Miss Davenport called and said the heirs-“
August cuts off whatever Paul planned to say, “Unless you get a call from one of us to do something, ignore it. Samantha Davenport has no goddamn authority in this town or anywhere else for that matter. If she calls again, you call me directly. Understood?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.