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“Give it, you little shit. I haven’t had a smoke in a lifetime.” Figured. Dean’s wife had a lung disease. He made countless sacrifices for his family, which made me respect him even more than I had in the past. Rosie looked fine. Normal. Pretty. But still sick. So every time he could get away with smoking pot, we were reminded of how not-so-normal his life was. The fucker had a big heart. He willingly wedded what I bitterly accepted—a situation where we had to take care of someone else.
Dean lit the joint and braced the island, passing it on to me. “Come on, now,” he said, smoke crawling from his lips. “Talk.”
They weren’t going to let it go, so I threw them a bone for no other reason than to shut them the fuck up.
“We have something going on,” I said quietly, not meeting any of their gazes. I took a long hit and passed it on to Vicious, who stared at me questioningly before bringing the blunt to his lips. “It’s nothing. She hangs out with Luna a lot, but she’s got her own shit to take care of at home, and I have my stuff to deal with. It’s just casual. For both of us.”
What a fucking understatement that was. Edie wasn’t casual. She never had been. But admitting to something else was goddamn crazy.
“Should I be the one to point out that Jordan Van Der Zee is our partner, and that you’re the only person he has beef with?” Jaime asked, taking the joint from Vicious. Dean plucked another beer from a bucket full of ice.
“Fuck knows why. Trent is the only person who actually works hard out of us four.” He laughed. Everyone nodded.
“Maybe he really is racist.” Jaime’s voice was depressed.
“Nah. If he were, he’d try to hide it.” Vicious shrugged. “It goes deeper than that. All I know is that Jord wants to kick you off the board, Trent. I see the way he looks at you. Whatever he has on you, it’s big. He wants you out of Fiscal Heights and he wants you out of his life. His daughter is the perfect excuse.”
“No one is going to know,” I gritted out, snatching the joint from Jaime. “We’re careful.”
But even that wasn’t true. Two days ago, I’d had my finger in her ass in the elevator, minutes after she nearly swallowed my cock. We needed to be more cautious, and I needed to stop being drawn to the most dangerous pussy in my vicinity. She was untrustworthy. She wanted to hand her dad all the information he needed on me. Edie Van Der Zee was starting to look a lot like the death of me, and yet here I was, coming back for more and more of her poison. Addicted like a crackhead.
“Are you sleeping with her to get back at her father for trying to get rid of you?” Jaime asked.
I scoffed. “Fuck no.”
“Do you have feelings for her?” Dean added.
I rolled my eyes, turning to Vicious. “Can you shut them up for me?”
Vicious shrugged. “Do I look like your errand boy? You seem to know how to take care of yourself pretty good.”
I was about to open my mouth and tell them that, in the very near future, Jordan wasn’t going to be a problem for me anymore. Then I heard a shriek coming from behind Dean’s back. I dropped the joint to the grass, hurrying toward the sound I recognized, because I’d studied it too fucking obsessively.
Luna yelping.
“I haven’t done anything to her! I swear!” Daria’s voice screeched. She was running around the lush, carefully cut grass with her blonde ponytails in little pink bows, wearing the ballet uniform she wore constantly. This one made her ex-ballerina mother extra proud. But she was starting to look and feel and talk like a mean girl.
“Oh, no! Luna, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Mel hurried toward the scene at the same time I did. Edie was on one knee, pulling Luna into a hug. Luna buried her face into Edie’s shoulder, and Edie was shooting an ice-cold look I’d never seen before at Daria.
“That was not cool, dude. At all. Did it make you feel good? Hurting her?”
Hurting her? It was the first time I suspected I wasn’t above screaming at a child. I wanted to yell at Daria until every vocal chord in my throat tore apart.
“What the hell is happening here?” I stopped at the same time Mel did. She looked at me helplessly. We hadn’t spoken to each other since I shit all over the date she sent me on. She hadn’t mentioned introducing me to anyone since. I considered that a victory.
“I went to get us some lemonade,” Edie was quick to explain, not waiting for guilt-ridden Daria to speak up, “and as I walked back, I noticed Luna’s seahorse was in Daria’s hand. She tore it apart and took out the fluff,” Edie reported, tightening her grip on Luna, who cried harder. Edie stood up, and Luna was wrapped around her like she was her child.
