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She grumbles something I can’t make out.
“How’s Grayson?” I ask, to steer her away from the shoe crisis.
“Wonderful. Spoiling me rotten. He was up in Empire earlier, working at the gym one of the brothers owns. He stopped to get me my favorite butter pecan ice cream, though.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It was. Unfortunately, I wanted strawberry by the time he got home.”
I already know the answer, but I ask anyway. “Did he turn around and go get it?”
“He did. I don’t know where he gets his patience.”
“He loves you,” I say gently. “And you deserve to be loved like that, Serena.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. She clears her throat. “So, what are you going to wear for your non-date?”
“A dress?”
“You have the cutest dresses.” She sighs. “And you probably fit into all ofyourshoes. Now, what are you cooking?”
Anxiety thrums through me. As much as I like cooking, doing it for other people always stresses me out. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. Nothing complicated.”
“Well, we can always jump on Zoom or something if you want to go over your outfit, makeup, or menu.”
“Jeez. Relax. It’s not a date.”
Her laughter calls me a liar. “Okay. Whatever you say, Emily.”
CHAPTERSIX
Dex
Friday isthe day of the week working stiffs usually look forward to the most. Crystal Ball is busiest on the weekends, especially Friday nights, so it’s usually nothing but another work night to me.
Not this week.
Friday can’t get here fast enough. Work is something to endure until I have the privilege of being in Emily’s aura again.
I groan and lean back in the sturdy leather chair, propping my feet on the wide wooden desk in the back office at Crystal Ball. Something about one of the invoices Willow left for me seems off. I’d rather gnaw on glass than ask Teller to look at it though. I’ll figure it out on my own.
My phone rattles against the desktop. I set my feet on the floor and grab it. I recognize Z’s number and answer.
“Hey, traitor,” I say. “How’s Downstate treating you?”
“Like a puppy who’s finally learned to pee outside. Who you calling a traitor?”
I chuckle at his description of his downstate crew. Without Rooster, Grinder, and Jigsaw as his officers, Z would be fucked. Hustler can barely count up a week’s worth of socks let alone balance the club’s books. Without Teller overseeing Downstate as well as Upstate’s finances, Downstate would probably go bankrupt.
“You’re missed, that’s all,” I explain. “Not only did you leave us, you abandoned Crystal Ball too. Girls ask me when you’re coming back every day.”
“Who you tryin’ to bullshit? You’re the cuddly big brother. I’m the one always yellin’ at them.”
As if Z’s ever yelled at one of our girls. “Yeah, I’m real fuckin’ cuddly.”
“Where you at?” Z asks.
“In the office. Thinking that we should’ve burned this desk the last time we remodeled the place.”
