Chapter Twenty-Three
Sadie
For the first time in a long time, I resent Taco Tuesday.
James and I enjoyed maybe five more minutes of soft kisses and vague promises for more later before he was called away on Saints business.
I slugged through hours of work with no word from him until now, when I get a text asking if he can come over.
Of course, I’m climbing into my car to head to the restaurant.
ME
I’m on my way to meet the girls for Taco Tuesday. How about in 3 hours?
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
T and I are meeting with Ace at 10.
ME
Why? Isn’t he your cleaner?
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
He has other skills. And plenty of connections.
ME
Couldn’t have told me this earlier?
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
I didn’t know then. He just called.
Skip Taco Tuesday. Tell the girls you're sick then prove to me you deserve the nickname Venus.
Holy shit. The muscles in my legs tighten, and I squirm in my seat at the images that one text provokes. It’s not overtly sexual, but I can hear it in his deep, commanding voice, and I’ve never wanted to live up to a nickname as badly as I do now.
ME
I don’t think we're at the ‘bail on best friends for a quickie’ stage yet.
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
It won’t be that quick.
With an audible groan, I lean my head back and struggle to find some self-control.
“You will not stand up your best friends for dick,” I tell myself. “No matter how big it felt.” It takes a few tries before I manage to type out and send my response.
ME
Tomorrow? I’ll be at the shop from ten to six.
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
I’ll be at your place by seven.
I probably look like the Joker with how I’m grinning at my phone. After hearting his message, I set the phone down and start the car. The short drive to the restaurant is spent fantasizing about what I’ll be doing at 7:05 tomorrow evening.
The thoughts must still show on my face when I make it to the table where June and Rose are waiting. My ass has just hit the chair when June asks what’s going on.
“Just had a good day at work,” I say. James and I didn’t discuss telling our friends, but we didn’t share our little partnership with them, and this feels much more delicate. We need to figure out what this is between us before we even think about telling anyone else, especially June and Theo.
“Have you booked more weddings?” Rose asks.
“No, but I did have an old client ask me to style her new house with plants.”
“What does that mean?” June asks.
“Basically, she’s moving in with her partner and they want me to do the plant interior designing.
Choose plants for each room and artfully arrange them on shelves and windowsills or wherever.
They’re having a baby and her partner has a dog, so I have to make sure none of the plants at toddler and dog level are toxic.
Then the rest must be in rooms with the right amount of sunlight while still being aesthetically pleasing. That kind of thing.”
“You’re a plant stylist,” Rose says. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”
“I didn’t either. But I’m kind of excited about it.”
“Can you do my house next?” she asks. “Vanessa would love that.”
“Me too! But nothing too hard to take care of. You know I have a black thumb,” June says.
Our waiter comes by and we order queso and margaritas, getting Evelyn’s too. “Where is she?” I ask, nodding to the empty chair.
“Probably still at the office,” Rose says. “We should really hold an intervention.”
“She just cares,” I say.
“Yeah, too much.”
“Nah, no such thing.” I carefully don’t look at June, but no one seems to have read more into my words than they should have.
Rose starts talking about Maple and how she doesn’t care enough, and I fight the urge to advocate on Maple’s behalf.
We’ve only met a few times, and she doesn’t need me fighting her battles.
Especially with her sister, who’s only half serious anyway.
Our margaritas arrive, followed closely by Evelyn, who takes her seat with a huff. She has a frazzled air about her, with her hair tugged into a messy bun and the sleeves of her blouse wrinkled. On anyone else, it might not mean anything, but Ev obsessively irons every article of clothing she owns.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
An annoyed expression briefly fills her face before it smooths into careful neutrality. “Shane’s parole hearing was scheduled for the end of the month. They want me to go.”
We fall silent. I give June a pointed look, which she correctly interprets. “You don’t have to go,” she says, turning to Ev. “But if you want to, we’ll be there with you. We support you, no matter what.”
Ev’s chin quivers when she meets June’s eyes. I hold my breath. Then Ev nods and the relief is instant and overwhelming. “Thanks. I just… don’t know what to do.”
“You could sic June’s new boy toy on him. I bet he wouldn’t make it long out of prison with an entire biker gang out for blood.”
“Club,” June and I say simultaneously.
“I’m not letting anyone fight my battles for me,” Ev says.
“We could fight them with you,” June suggests.
Ev nods again and drags her margarita closer. She takes a long sip before asking, “What would you guys do?”
I silently imagine all of us answering honestly, which I know none of us will.
June would say, “Kill him.”
Rose would say, “Run.”
I’d say, “Absolutely fucking nothing.”
“The guy is terrible, Ev,” Rose says. “He doesn’t deserve to be breathing free air.”
June’s lips roll together. I wonder if she’s secretly hoping Ev won’t go to the hearing and Shane is released. She could satisfy her need and free another one of her friends from their tormentor. Then I wonder what she would do if she got her hands on Rose’s parents. Or the entire cult.
Midsommer 2: Eve Burns the Garden to the Ground.
Stifling the desire to laugh, I take a long swallow of strawberry margarita.
“What if Emerie is there?” The way Evelyn asks the question makes it clear that this is her real fear. Not seeing Shane again, or even Shane going free.
It’s the possibility of facing her sister.
“That’s why we’ll be there,” June says. “We’ll run interference.”
Gratitude swims in Ev’s brown eyes. “I love you guys.”
June’s own gaze shines with emotion when she returns the sentiment.
After that, conversation is much lighter.
Ev, June, and I regale Rose with stories from our weekend in California.
Rose complains that she was stuck here working, and I promise to drag her along for the next visit.
Luna sends about a dozen photos of a very grumpy Raphael with a bunch of hairy dicks drawn on his face to the group chat with me, Rose, and June, stating the dangers of falling asleep in the middle of the clubhouse.
When I laugh, then show Ev, she frowns and says, “Is this club filled with twelve-year-old boys?”
June chuckles. “Pretty much. I bet you anything this is Nico and Luna’s doing.”
“I don’t know,” Rose says. “I bet that James’s grumpy macho thing is all an act. He has a secret immature side to him, I’m sure.”
Just the mention of his name has my mouth going dry and my legs tensing. The cotton of my bra is far too abrasive against my suddenly sensitive nipples. Memories of his mouth on my skin are so sharp that I almost feel the wet heat sliding down my neck.
“Ha! Knew it!” June’s shout jars me out of the dirty thoughts. I blink in confusion before focusing on her phone screen, which she’s turned for us to see. Luna sent a gif of Jake Peralta saying, “I would never do something that stupid.”
“This is the weirdest biker gang I’ve ever seen,” Ev mutters.
“They’re really cool,” I say. “Luna is amazing, and Benny is pretty great too.”
“Of course they’re the best,” Rose says, who’s only met Benny once. “They’re the only gay members, right?”
“As far as I know,” June confirms. “Although I have my suspicions about James. He’s always so cagey about where he’s been or who he’s been with.”
She says it just as I’m drinking, and the shock has me spluttering as water goes down the wrong pipe.
“You good?” June asks. Ev slaps me on the back and I nod, eyes watering.
“James is Theo’s roommate?” Ev asks.
June nods. “They’re basically brothers.”
While they have a miraculously civil conversation about the Saints of Purgatory, I surreptitiously click my phone on, holding it under the table as I type out a text. His response is instant.
ME
According to June, you might be gay. Something to tell me?
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
Did I feel gay with my cock pressed against you and my lips around those gorgeous nipples?
I drop my head forward another inch so my short black hair covers my burning cheeks.
ME
Want me to show her that text? Set her straight?
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
Please tell me that pun wasn’t intentional.
And show her whatever you want. Feel free to tell your friends all about how you practically begged me to fuck you.
ME
There was no begging.
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
Sure, whatever you say, Venus.
ME
Why does June think you’re gay?
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
Because she’s nosey.
ME
***
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
Remember that one time you caught me outside your apartment?
ME
You mean when you fell asleep in your Jeep while stalking me?
Rings a bell.
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
Well, when I didn’t tell her where I’d been all night, I guess she drew her own conclusions.
ME
Classic.
I get it, though. Better to have her think you’re in the closet than stalking her best friend.
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
Wasn’t stalking.
ME
It’s okay to admit you’re afraid of her. She’s a scary chick.
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
I’m not fucking afraid of June.
ME
*Me thinks the lady doth protest too much gif*
HARTLEY. JAMES HARTLEY.
Keep this up and you’ll see how much of a sadist I can be.
ME
*Deadpool “I am soaking wet right now” gif*
“Hello? Earth to Sadie!”
I flinch and snap my head up to find three sets of eyes on me. A blush climbs up my neck and burns in my cheeks as I shove my phone between my thighs. “Sorry.”
“Who has got you blushing and smiling?” Rose asks.
“No one,” I say, because I’m a fucking idiot.
“It must be a new guy,” Ev says. “Tell us about him!”
“There’s no guy!”
“You’re a terrible liar,” she says.
I bite my cheek. “Fine, it’s just a guy from Bumble. He’s sweet, but I’m not sure it’ll go anywhere.”
“Why not?” Ev asks.
“I want to see! Show us a picture.”
Goddamn, I am a terrible liar. I haven’t opened a dating app in weeks.
Thankfully, I still have it downloaded, so while I mumble something about the guy being too intense, I frantically scroll through expired matches, pick one cute enough, and flip the phone around.
Rose tries to grab it, but I hold on tight, not wanting her to swipe to the messages to find them non-existent.
After a few more questions, to which I give vague answers, they grow bored and the conversation moves on. June doesn’t say a word. She just sits there, watching me with a knowing glint that I don’t try to decipher.
The bubbling feelings in my stomach caused from texting James continue for the rest of the night. It’s not until I’m walking Soot, daydreaming about him coming over tomorrow, that they start to disappear.
Because he’s coming over tomorrow with very clear intentions. And as much as I can’t wait to test out what kind of sadist he is, I don’t think I can. Not while I’m keeping such a big secret from him. But I worry telling him will ruin whatever this is between us before it’s had a chance to begin.