Page 6
She said something under her breath, as we walked away, but it bled into the music and multitude of voices swirling around us.
A sharp crack of laughter sounded to my right as Sabrina Vittles stepped into the path just as the group parted for me. Her skinny legs and narrow hips sashayed like she was putting on a million dollar show as she marched to Pacman and dramatically wrapped one arm around his neck. He started sucking face with her like he’d found a true prize, and I nearly gagged on my own spit.
I heard barely restrained heaving from behind me and for a minute, I thought the ol’ man might do more than spit.
“All this ass, and that’s what he wants,” dad mumbled under his breath.
“Birdman! Birdman, it’s been a minute, right?” Cheyenne Rivers cheerfully rattled as we neared Tony “Bullet Boy” Nixx’s table.
Bullet all but flubbed his lips, flashing an apologetic grimace while his ol’ lady kept right on chirping, “I made some tumblers for the auction, and I was thinking– You know we could do a bake sale, or… or maybe Kate and the girls would be up for hosting a—”
“A suck for a buck. Right, we were just talking about that.” My mother appeared, the way she always did when something with tits spoke too long with her husband.
To be fair, in Kate’s world, too long was anything beyond a respectful head dip from a ten-foot distance.
The ol’ man’s head snapped toward her, but my mom merely shrugged before confidently continuing, “What? They said it would be cost-effective, and for a good cause! You’d only be out a couple of shirts and a bag of individually wrapped Life Savers. Surely, we can find a marker laying around to scribble ‘Suck for a Buck’ on the front, you know…”
She waved her hand in front of her chest and my father’s eyes narrowed so fast she let out a nervous giggle.
“Get me a beer before you wear them pretty lips out early,” he growled, sending her off with a swat.
She cheekily made her way toward the bar, and I noticed Kennedy picking up a tray full of bourbon and bottles. Kennedy wasn’t like the others; she didn’t pause to show my mother respect or shower her with false pleasantries like the Sweethearts did.
I snorted, realizing she hadn’t even blinked, or acknowledged Kate in the slightest as she shifted the tray and slipped past. She was good at moving through a crowd with that tray, almost making herself appear graceful.
I knew better.
That girl was an athlete. She had a temper, too, if people pulled the right strings.
“The fuck are you smiling at?” Bullet Boy teased.
I ignored him completely.
Watching her was my thing
It was our thing, actually, she just didn’t know it yet.
I’d been taking her in every evening for about three months now. I exhaled, almost sensing the shift in the room a breath before Rigs popped Kennedy on the ass like she meant to keep a piece of it.
Kennedy whirled to confront the source, just as Rig’s flashed her first-place smile at Bullet Boy and shifted to perch against my father.
The lack of proximity didn’t faze her. To be fair, I don’t even think she gave her brain time to register who the offender was; the tray left her hand before she possibly could have.
Two bottles and a handful of Bourbon shots found the back of her target, and we all suffered the indignant screech Rigs let out.
The entire room seemed to stop in its tracks. The music blasted, but there were no longer any voices competing with it.
The crisp click of my mother’s heels sounded over the floor growing sharper, and louder with every step. A low, familiar hum patiently vibrated from her as she drew near the wild-eyed Kennedy and joined her in staring down the now drenched Sweetheart.
“You know,” she swigged the ol’ man’s beer and licked her lips clean before passing it over, and looking directly at me, “I forgot to mention that I volunteered you for Thinking About the Leap.”
“The what?” My face momentarily pinched with the question.
“Thinking About the Leap, you know, the youth program the Kid’s Center does in September. They get the kids excited about High School next year. You should have seen Coach Cromby when I told him King Crowe himself would be there with a plus one.”
My mood and expression simultaneously flattened, “The fuck you did. I’m not volunteering for that shit.”
Rigs’s eyes turned to rage-filled, glistening sapphires and that ridiculous pout of hers tipped and quivered as the show moved on. Kennedy must have sensed it was over, too, because she dusted her hands on her jeans and snapped before turning, “Clean this shit up.”
