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I start through the crowd to the exit. “How do I get out of here?” Dread overtakes me at the thought of the creepy dark maze we ventured through.
“I’ll help you,” River groans, pulling a shirt over his golden muscles.
“Your girlfriend won’t like it.”
“Not my girlfriend.” He dominates my hand with his warm, callused, and protective. I suffer a glance over my shoulder. Jamie’s strolling toward the direction of the MMA cage. Instead of stopping them, I step into the darkness with River.
* * *
Afew minutes later, we’re outside. The clock’s almost touching midnight, but it’s bright compared to the creepy maze we went through. I lift my head to the dank, gloomy starless night.
“Thanks,” I sigh.
“It’s a series of steps,” River says.
“What?” I ask.
“The walkway. Those dumb rich fuckers like illusions. I dunno.” His lips cock into a sexy smile. “How are you getting home?”
I pose my mouth to respond, but Tatum walks through the area by herself. Dammit, the little barracuda.
“The bus.” I round on the backs of my tennies.
Nose wrinkled, Tatum asks, “Shouldn’t you have a car? Riv, she’s a rich DuPont—”
“Why do you have a problem with me all of a sudden?” I glare at her.
River steps in front of his evil, little Chihuahua, forearm holding her back in place. “Willow, we’ll give you a ride.”
“No, thank you.” The tiny terror gets around him. I step toward her, advancing on a girl who knows the art of kicking my ass. “Do you see me watching them fight?”
“Maybe you enjoyed pitting brother against brother?”
“Until a few days ago, I had no idea they were brothers.”
“Kind of funny how Cam once punched peoples’ lights out for calling Jamie even the most vanilla names, then you come along.”
“Buh-bye!” I pageant wave like my name is Hillary Greene-Bernard, who taught me the tricks of the trade.
River stands before me in seconds. My front foot hardly has time to plant down onto the sidewalk.
“Like I said, Willow, we gotta give you a ride. Doesn’t matter where but you’re a chick out here in the middle of the night. I insist.” Anguish crosses his handsome face. The little tart has him hen pecked, though he’s got some home training.
“Alright.” My arms fold over each other, and I level an unflinching scowl toward Tatum. My mom’s nursing home is a couple of miles anyway. River heads toward an old Cutlass. Anywhere the color is not faded red, there is rust. He opens the back door for me, but the feisty Tatum slides inside. He huffs, opening the front passenger door for me next. For the next ten minutes, we drive in silence.
“Thanks.” I slide out of the car.
“Too paranoid to share which condo with the door guy or mansion you live in?” Tatum hops out.
Though I’m on guard, I could probably run faster than she punches.
“My sister’s the reason I’m at DuPont. I live in an apartment a couple more miles in that direction.” I point. I hit her below the belt with, “A little too far into the ghetto for you, I’m sure. Poser much?” I feel so terrible pulling the race card. She’s half Black. But of course, that’s not the problem here. Her attitude is, assuming I’m some rich DuPont kid.
“Don’t—”
Face contorted in frustration, I snap, “But since you get your kicks out of being nosey, I’m here to see my mom.”
“She eighty or something?”
