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This poor child was doomed.
“Okay, fine,” Holly said with a roll of her eyes as she threw her hands in the air. “Izzy hates all this shit. She made us promise not to throw her a baby shower, but Shell got her to agree to allow one if and only if she went past her due date. Well, guess what, ladies?” Holly asked the crowd of mostly ol’ ladies, a few of Izzy’s repeat clients, and some friends from the gym. “Yesterday was her due date! So today, we party.”
If looks could kill, Holly would be nothing but a smoking pile of ash right then. She had to admit a twisted part of her got some enjoyment out of torturing the woman who’d been the hardest sell since Holly started dating LJ. When they’d met, Holly’s father had been their town’s sheriff and extremely anti-biker. After much drama and heartache, he no longer lived in the state or worked in law enforcement. Even though Holly had proven over the past months that her loyalty lay firmly with LJ and his brothers, Izzy remained slightly frosty toward her.
Regardless of her discomfort in running this show, Holly was glad to have something to focus on besides her usual hatred of the Christmas season. With her birthday being Christmas Eve, this time of year, she tended to think of nothing but the twin sister she lost over a decade ago. Typically, she preferred to spend the holiday holed up in bed, licking her emotional wounds. But not this year. This year she had a group of pushy friends who refused to allow her to wallow.
Hence being the one running this shindig. That whole short straw thing was just a smokescreen. While she adored her girlfriends for trying to take her mind off her troubles, she could have done without this task. “We’re gonna start right off with a fun game.”
“Can I leave yet?” Izzy asked with a dramatic roll of her eyes.
“Did your water break?” Chloe asked.
“No.” Yikes, that was a death glare if Holly had ever seen one.
Chloe either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Then, you’re not going anywhere until we’ve showered you with love, gifts, games, and sugar.”
“Sugar?” Izzy perked up and started looking around. “I like sugar.”
Holly shot Jazz a look then indicated the dessert table with a jerk of her head. Thankfully, her friend caught her drift. Jazz jumped up, grabbed a tray of brownies, and presented them to Izzy with a flourish.
“Mmmm,” Izzy said on a moan as she bit into the ooey-gooey chocolate goodness. Holly smiled. Didn’t matter how many times she fed her friends, their groans of delight made her day every damn time. As Jazz went to remove the tray, Izzy’s hand shot out and pulled the platter from Jazz. “Mine,” she growled, making everyone in the room laugh.
Jazz lifted her hands. “It’s all yours, Mama.”
With a hum of pure pleasure, Izzy looked to Holly. “I’m good to go now. What’s the first game? And P.S., you’re a sugar goddess.”
The way to tame a pregnant Izzy was definitely through her stomach via way of her sweet tooth. Or teeth.
“Okay.” Holly walked over to a rolling whiteboard Shell had borrowed from a teacher friend of hers. It had been covered with a sheet that Holly removed with a flourish.
“What the hell is that?” Izzy asked around a mouthful of brownie.
Holly laughed. On the board were twelve pictures of women’s faces lined up in two rows. Each face was contorted in some twisted expression. “This is a little game called Porn or Labor? You each have a sheet of paper with the numbers one through twelve listed on it. Take a look at each picture and guess whether it’s a photo of a woman in labor or a still from a porno. Got it?”
“Oh, my God,” Izzy said with a shake of her head. “I should have known you bitches would make this awesome and not some lame vagina-fest shower.”
“That’s right, you should have,” Steph said. “You know we wouldn’t do you wrong, girl!”
An hour and a half later, the food had been devoured, games played, gifts opened, and Holly had laughed so hard she’d nearly peed herself—twice.
As she tossed the last of the plastic cups into a giant trash bag, the door to the clubhouse flew open. Screw burst into the room. “It’s four o’clock. Times up, ladies. I need a fucking drink and some pus—Jazz,” he said as he caught sight of the slender woman with the spiky black hair he’d been pursuing for the past few months. Pursuing unsuccessfully, she might add.
With a roll of her eyes, Jazz looked at Holly. “The first thing out of the man’s mouth is how he’s trolling for cheap pussy, and he can’t imagine why I won’t give up mine?”
