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“There was a game I couldn’t pass up on.”
Layna dabbled in—and by ‘dabbled in,’ I meant she had truly made a name for herself—in high-stakes poker games all over the world.
She’d gone to school for finance.
And we all thought it was hilarious that she’d taken that love of numbers and used it to count her winnings from large pots.
So then we drank.
Eventually, Willa brought in food, and we all each did shots to each of our worst fuckboy stories.
“I mean, he thought I would drop my panties for some leather-clad mullet-wearing, greasy-faced, sub-par skip chaser?” Vi asked, and we threw back a shot.
“I needed to take it to HR when I found he had some down-shirt pictures of my tits in his desk drawer,” Willa had told us.
“He took me to a fast food restaurant on our first date and then demanded I pay for my half of the meal,” Gracie announced. “And then wanted me to have sex with him in his car,” she finished.
“I caught him with his hands down his pants in the manga section,” Luna had supplied, looking a little green at the memory.
“Alright, you’re up,” Vi said, pouring us each another round even though Luna looked like she was getting close to a night on the bathroom floor, and I was at numb-face stage. “Give us a story about a guy.”
I was drunk.
That was the only reason the truth spilled out of me right then.
“A while back, a certain someone that I was crazy about told me he was not interested in me, and that my interest in him was ‘sad’,” I told them.
“He called you sad?” Vi asked, stiffening. “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have been so nice about him.”
“Yeah, who the fuck does he think he is?” Layna asked. “I mean, really, who is he?” she asked, giving us a bleary-eyed smile. “I’ve been a bit out of the loo— uh oh,” she said when there was a key in the door.
Not a couple seconds later, there was Hope, bursting in wearing her usual dark-colored utility pants that hugged her soft curves, but was more about functionality for her than fashion, a black tank, and combat boots.
“You,” she said, jabbing a finger at me. “I know you have been avoiding me. That’s fucked up, Bills,” she said. “Almost as fucked up as you not saying anything to anyone when some fuckwad shows up at your door and drops off threatening letters and creepy art. I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? Do you have any idea how many women end up raped and murdered from their goddamn stalkers? These men are deranged.”
“Do people still say ‘fuckwad’ these days?” Layna asked, making Hope’s head whip over. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your tirade. It’s just a little whip-lashy. We’re currently shit-faced and sharing about asshole men.”
“Oh, well, I can berate her later,” Hope declared, waving at me. “I have a story. Give me a shot,” she demanded.
So we had another shot.
Luna tapped out, resting her head against Layna’s thigh to stop the world from spinning.
“Well, finally,” Violet said as Andi came in, carrying a backpack full of her clothes to change out of her work scrubs. “You never work this late.”
“Ugh, I had this lunatic woman throwing a holy fit in the office tonight,” she said, taking a slow, deep breath, probably her first one in hours.
“About what?”
“The fact that I won’t crop her Dobie’s ears,” Andi said, throwing up a hand. “I am not going to perform a painful surgery just for aesthetics. I don’t crop ears or dock tails or remove claws from cats. I don’t understand wanting to do it in the first place, and I’m not going to change my mind just because she shrieks at me. Go find another vet, y’know? Ugh. Oh, we’re drinking. Good.”
“Our male cousins are not going to be pleased to show up here and find that Billie’s entire guard crew is plastered,” Vi said, smiling. “Which only makes me want to drink more. Go change. We will get you caught up,” she added, lining up a few shot glasses.
“Who is that?” Layna asked when there was another knock on the door.
“I don’t know. I think we’re all here,” I said, my voice slow and slurry.
“I’ll get it,” Hope said, getting to her feet, wobbling a bit, but righting herself as she reached for her gun as she approached the door, looking out. “Oh,” she said, moving back to unlock it. “You,” she added, moving out of the way for whoever it was to enter.
Danny.
Fallon’s woman.
A verified former MC president herself.
“Damnit. He was right,” she grumbled.
“Whoever he is, don’t you hate it when they’re right?” Layna asked.
“I do. Especially since he’s been right twice in one day, which is fucking infuriating,” she said, closing and locking the door.
