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“It’s not a ring. Tatum wants a necklace.” River scrubs his face. “Screw the necklace, though. We have all our lives for me to tell her. You know, I still call you a friend, asshole. Though I’m wondering why. I understand why your fam and Tatum call you the American when you’re on some shady shit. And Cam when you’re the normal guy. You’re like two different people. But Voodoo Cunt and New Girl, they’re wayyy different. Pick one.”
“Obviously, I’ve chosen Willow—”
“To fuck in front of an audience, which isn’t right.”
“Cut the act, Riv. You’ve screwed half these bitches.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I got needs. But you ain’t ever gonna see me treat Tatum like you’re treating Willow. Willow’s not that kind of girl.”
When I said River was a motherfucker of few words, that was a lie. He runs his mouth, preaching like the rest of them. I blame Tatum’s dad. Li taught him how to respect his opponent in the cage before creaming him. As River runs his mouth, I listen halfheartedly. My eyes have latched onto my brother, Jamie MacKenzie, the one I love.
“Time to learn a lesson, bro.” I pull the blunt from over my ear and light up.
