Page 29 of Firecracker (Smoke)


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He grinned. “We’ve got soda, water, wine, beer, whiskey—oh, and I think there is some apple juice and cran.”

“Apple juice sounds good,” I replied.

He lifted his chin toward the room. “Pick a seat. I’ll bring it to you.”

I looked out over the tiered rows of black leather chairs that looked like they reclined. I walked down to the middle, then went to the center of the row. The seats were so big and plush that I pulled my bare feet up and crossed my legs.

Trev walked up and put my apple juice in the cupholder on my seat, then looked down at my legs. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be distracting at all,” he said, sinking down in the chair beside me with the popcorn.

“What?” I asked.

“Your bare thighs wide open,” he said pointedly.

I was wearing a pair of shorts and an oversize sweatshirt in case it was cold in here. I didn’t think it was at all revealing or flattering. “Do you want me to sit another way?”

He smirked. “I’m joking. The lights are about to go out. It’s fine. Sit how you’re comfortable.” He held out the bucket of popcorn to me. “Want some?” he asked.

I reached into the bucket and got a handful, then shifted in my seat to put my knees together and bend my legs up beside me. Trev looked at my legs and grinned, then turned back to the screen.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, and he held up his hand, then put it back down. The lights went out, and then the screen lit up.

“How did you do that?” I asked, amazed.

“I didn’t. Ralph did,” he replied. “He’s up in the box where the projector is.”

“Who is Ralph?” I asked.

“Ms. Jimmie’s nephew. He does, uh … odd jobs around the house,” he replied.

I sank back onto the leather and watched the screen. Reaching over to get popcorn occasionally.

“When did you see this movie the first time?” he asked me.

I grinned. “It was playing at a dollar movie theater. Mom and I went to see it. I was thirteen.”

“And at thirteen, you decided this was your favorite movie?”

I nodded. “I used to pretend I was part of the Corleones. I made up an entire story about it in my head.”

He chuckled and shook his head, then tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. How was eating popcorn sexy? I sighed and turned back to the movie, trying to focus on it and not the way Trev looked while eating popcorn.

“How long has he been in Sicily? It’s been months, and he’s still got the damn bruise on his face,” Trev said.

“Yeah, they messed up there. And when they realized it, they wouldn’t go back and refilm it because they’d already gone over budget. They fixed it by saying the punch broke his cheekbone and caused a permanent black eye.”

Trev turned to me. “Really?”

I nodded. “Yep. I watched a documentary on the making of it. Did you know they offered Michael’s role to Jack Nicholson, but he turned it down?”

Trev laughed. “Fuck, I wonder how long he regretted that.”

“I imagine he still regrets it,” I replied, then tossed popcorn in my mouth.

“Oh! You’re watching The Godfather!” my mom’s voice called out.

I turned to see her walking in, followed by Garrett.

She was grinning at me. “And there is popcorn? How much fun!”

She walked down to our row and came to sit on the other side of me. Garrett went over to the popcorn.

“What do you think of the house?” she asked me.

“It’s massive,” I replied.

She rolled her eyes and laughed at me. Then, she leaned over to look at Trev. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s impressed.”

He just smiled at her.

Garrett handed Mom a bucket of popcorn, and she reached up to grab the front of his shirt and pulled him down until she could kiss him.

“Thank you,” she said against his lips, then released him.

He cupped her face with his hand and brushed his thumb over her cheek as if she were something precious, then moved to take the seat beside her. He had also brought her a glass of rosé in a wineglass, putting it in her cupholder.

“This has been Gypsi’s favorite movie since she was a kid. I took her to see it at the theater, and she became obsessed with it,” Mom told Garrett.

Trev leaned back in his seat, and I saw him look at his dad with a smirk on his face. Mom was terrible about being quiet during movies. I wondered if Garrett knew that flaw about her yet.

“Oh, and don’t ever do that to me again,” she said. “You scared me this morning.”

I had known she’d get worried. “I’m sorry.”

She patted my leg, then took a handful of her popcorn, then turned to say something to Garrett. I tried not to stare, but I checked to see if he was annoyed by her talking instead of watching yet. The grin on his face said he wasn’t.

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