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“You’re supposed to be partying at the clubhouse!” Amara said in a way too loud voice as her bright green eyes took their damn time to focus on Cat.
“Andyouare a lousy friend, Princess.” Cat purposely called Amara by the name the brothers in the club gave her so she would know just how pissed she was with her.
Amara stumbled back as her big sister pushed the front door open. “I convinced her to stay home tonight,” Demi said.
Cat shouldered her way through the door opening and said in a huff, “Since when does Amara listen to a single word any of us say?”
Amara and Demi followed Cat as she passed the living room and strode directly into their kitchen. She’d been in this house countless of times and knew where the former president of IVMC hid the good stuff. The old son of a bitch may be dead and buried, but she went with her gut and got on her knees in front of a low cabinet next to the sink. Cat pulled out a dark blue cleaning bucket, three bottles of soap, and a plunger before her fingers wrapped around the long neck of a bottle of ouzo.
“I can’t believe you found ouzo…” Demi said as her eyes watered.
“Ah, shit. Don’t start or I’ll start crying and before we know it, we’re all blubbering messes,” Amara said.
Cat clunked the bottle on the counter. “Speak for yourself. I never cry.”
“Sure you do. I’ve seen you cry that time Archibald died,” Demi said.
Cat couldn’t believe that Demi actually remembered how Nora had a pet raccoon they named Archibald because Nora had read somewhere it meant bold and brave. He was a crazy ass fucker that never listened but died before his time.
“Nora cried, but I had a fly in my eye. I already told you!”
The Doukas sisters shared a knowing smile.
Cat unscrewed the bottle before she turned around and grabbed three shot glasses from the cabinet above her head.
Demi held up a hand. “I’m not doing shots. You’re obviously upset with us for not showing up tonight, but—”
Cat huffed. “You two missed out on a show tonight.”
Demi sat down on a bar stool on the other side of the kitchen counter. “What happened?”
Before spilling her guts, Cat wanted to know something first. “Why didn’t you come out tonight?”
Amara undid her raven ponytail that almost reached the top of her butt. As she brushed her fingers through her thick hair, Amara said, “It’s hard to see Wolf again. Especially at the clubhouse, where he’s hanging all over those skanks.”
“How long has it been since you last saw him?” Cat knew Amara had asked her brother Zeus if he could send any other member to regularly check the house, since Amara needed distance from Wolf.
“I’ve seen him once in the past few weeks when he came to pick up Zeus. The last time we really talked was right after Dad… you know…. died.”
While Cat’s crush on Demon seemed pretty hopeless, Amara’s crush on Wolf was doomed from the start. Wolf would never change his whoring ways as the biggest player of IVMC. Not only did he have sex with every sweetbutt like it went out of style, he also went all over town looking for a hot piece of ass.
At least Demon kept things somewhat civilized whenever Cat dropped by at the clubhouse to see Devlin. Until tonight, that is.
Cat filled the shot glasses to the brim and slid one in front of Demi, who scrunched her nose, and one in front of Amara.
“Drink, bitches. After leaving me hanging, you owe me this.”
Demi clinked her glass against Amara and Cat’s. “I can’t believe we’re actually drinking Dad’s precious ouzo in his kitchen. If he could see us now…”
Amara finished her drink in one go and nudged her head toward the bottle in Cat’s hand. “Okay, keep it coming.”
“We’ve already been drinking all night and now you’re knocking back ouzo? You’ll only end up hugging the toilet seat tonight,” Demi said, who’d tried for years to distance herself from the club and live a normal, respectable life. She’d even followed some guy to Florida and worked on a cruise ship to get away from her father and his club.
Amara rolled her eyes. “I haven’t been sick from alcohol since the last time I was sick.”
Demi and Cat shared a look and busted out laughing at Amara’s drunken logic.
“What?” Amara tilted her head as she furrowed her brows.
