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Lyle pours a beer into a glass and hands it to me, then fixes everyone else’s drinks. I take an intentional gulp, draining half the glass, still standing because I haven’t been invited to sit.
Evanee seems to realize the oversight as she shoves her mother over with her butt. “Come sit beside me, darling.”
There’s space enough for a small woman, but I squeeze my big ass in next to my girl then run my hand up her thigh. “Perfect fit,” I say with a leer.
Brooke nearly chokes on her wine.
As we drink, conversation flows like I expected. Work and golf games and parties. Evanee and I don’t get a word in edgewise. No one asks how her clinic is doing, where she’s living, how she’s getting along in Sagebrush.
Lyle gets everyone a refill, then leads us into the dining room when dinner is announced by a man I can only conclude is the butler based on his dress and stiff manner.
I’m trying to be on my best behaviour, but it’s not easy. I can’t figure out how Evanee comes from this gene pool. I mean, I get that she’s this posh girl with a skewed sense of life, but at the same time, she’s genuine to everyone she meets – no judgement. She’s a miracle no matter what side of the tracks she came from.
Dinner is a long arduous affair with soup, then a starter salad. Another appetizer, then the main meal, followed by dessert. The red wine flows and I choke down the shit for Evanee’s sake. My inner demon tells me that I don’t do that for anyone, but it’s fading, because I’d do almost anything for my girl.
I’m seated between Alison and Jennifer while Mason and Evanee sit across from me. Lyle sits at the head of the table with Brooke at the opposite end. It pisses me off that Evanee ain’t beside me – seems like they did it deliberately.
Over the course of the meal, the conversation is as boring as it was in the living room until Mason asks me what I do for a living.
He knows, they all know that I’m a member of Hell’s Jury. If Evanee didn’t already tell them, I’m pretty sure Lyle had me checked out. I’m not gonna pretend otherwise, but I decide to toy with them a little.
“I’m a businessman, like you, Lyle,” I say wiping the fuckin’ seared scallops off my lips and trying not to hurl into my plate. “I’m part of a business group that has its hand in a variety of ventures, including,” I nod across the table at Evanee. “My darlin’s vet clinic.”
It’s news to Lyle, who chokes on a forkful of stewed tomatoes. When he’s done coughing, he says to Evanee, “You’ve let his gang invest in your clinic?”
Evanee gets her back up. “I did not let them, daddy. I asked them and they said, yes.”
“How much?” Lyle demands.
Evanee starts to answer, but I get out in front of her. “Well now, Lyle. That’s business between me and Evanee since we’re engaged.” I look at her with steel in my eyes. “Private business.”
I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but I got a feeling she don’t like me speaking for her. Something we can talk about later. “Anyway,” I add to distract them from the topic. “I run Dick’s Pick’s near the border of the Pyramid Lake Reservation. They don’t say we can’t do business out there and we reward them for being open-minded.” I try to suppress my grin. “You ever heard of it, Lyle?” I wink at Evanee, then add, “My business, not the reservation.”
Lyle clear’s his throat like the tomato’s still stuck in it. “Is it a photography business?”
I laugh. “Sometimes, I guess, but it’s a brothel.”
“Oh my god!” Jennifer says. “A brothel! Did you know?” She’s lookin’ at Evanee but side-eyein’ her husband.
“Of course, I knew,” Evanee tells her. “Trigger and I don’t have secrets.”
“It’s legit, anyway,” I say with the same puffed-up importance Lyle has. “One of the few brothels that are.”
Allison pretends to be outraged, though I can tell she’s intrigued. “It’s an offensive business. Brothels exploit vulnerable women.”
I’m about to counter her point, but Evanee cuts me off. “You can’t pass judgement like that until you’ve spent some time understanding it. Trigger’s brothel is a well-run place, clean and organized.”
“You’ve been there?” her mother gasps.
Evanee twists her lips, probably wishing she could take back her last words, but soldiers on. “Yes, mom, I have been there. I’m as interested in Trigger’s work as he is in mine.”
“Trigger.” The brother homes in on my road name. “Is that your nickname?”
I take a careful bite of the hibiscus tart the server just set in front of me. “Road name. Most of my club brother’s have one.”
“What’s yours mean?” Mason asks slyly. “Got something to do with premature ejaculation?”
“Mason!” Brooke exclaims. I can tell by the panic on her face that she knows she’s losing control of the dinner party.
