31. Pink Glitter
Pink Glitter
What is happening right now?! Jesse's here?
In Alabama? At the Miss USA pageant?! And he brought the entire freaking roster of brothers?
! How did they even know I was here? I sure as hell didn't tell 'em about it.
Oh, I bet it was Meddling Miss Marlow. I'm sure of it.
I need to get off this stage A-freaking-SAP!
"As the judges deliberate, please enjoy the sensational vocal stylings of Lily Mitchell and The Chimes," the host says as the stage manager wrangles all three finalists off the stage for the final wardrobe change.
"Quickly, ladies! You've got ten minutes to change before crowning! Move those tushes!" I attempt to push past the stage manager and beeline to the audience, but she grabs my arm and tugs me back. "Where do you think you're going, Alabama?"
"I need to go?—"
"The only place you're going is to the dressing room," she says, dragging me down the hall. She dang near shoves me inside the room, stern and menacing as she adds, "Eight minutes now."
"Argh!" I groan, running to the vanity and frantically searching my purse for my cell phone. I type out a frantic text to Marlow before I unzip my cocktail dress and rummage through my suitcase for a strapless bra. "Why can't I find anything?!"
"Woah, calm down, Alabama." New York chuckles as she passes me. "You've got time. Just breathe."
"You're right, you're right," I mutter, calming myself down.
"I need to chill. It's not like a man who I thought I'd probably never see again is standing a few hundred yards away holding a freaking hot pink sign.
" Digging deep into my suitcase, I pull out the adhesive bra cups, exclaiming in triumph, "Yes! Okay, Dress!"
"Here—" I spin around to find Marlow standing behind me, grinning like a moron at my flustered demeanor. "I guess it's no longer a surprise?"
"You knew!" I swat her repeatedly with my bra. "You. Are. Such. A. Turd! What were you thinking inviting them?!"
"Ouch! That one hurt!"
"Good!" I grunt, crossing my arms. "Seriously, Mar! What the hell? I thought we said no more secrets!"
Marlow rolls her eyes as she nods at the time on the wall. Dang it. Five minutes. "There's a difference between secrets and surprises, Sav," she says, helping me into the satin evening gown. "And if you're gonna be mad at someone, be mad at your brother; he's the one that told JP to come, not me. "
"Sure." I scoff, swapping out bras. "As if you had nothing to do with it. Totally believable."
"Listen." Marlow spins me around and latches her sisterly eyes onto mine.
"I love you, Sav, but you are as stubborn as they come, okay?
You can try and convince yourself all you want that you don't care about JP and that it was only a fling, but we both know that's a load of bullshit.
So instead of standing there pretending to be angry with us, think about what you're going to say to him after you win that fucking crown! "
"I am not stubborn!" I state, scowling at her. "That is so ru?—"
"Rude? Okay, fine, I'm rude, but I'd rather be rude than let my best friend live the rest of her life wishing she had the balls to tell the man that she loves that she's in love with him !"
"Ah!" My jaw drops. "I am not in love?—"
Marlow slams her index finger against my lips. "Enough!" She takes a long, labored breath, mumbling, "God, you and JP belong together. I've never met two people who are more similar in my whole life." With a heavy sigh, she adds, "Let's try this again. What are you going to say to him?"
I glower at her, staying silent as the fear of rejection ripples through my body.
Marlow picks up on my apprehension and drops her hand, tone softening, "Sav, the man rode his bike nonstop from California to Alabama to see you." She pauses, tilting her head. "He used fucking glitter for you." She smiles. "Glitter."
A cheesy grin curls my lips. "Pink glitter. "
"Yes, girl." Marlow chuckles. " Pink glitter ."
I bite my lip, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. "You think he loves me?"
"What's not to love?"
"I—"
"One minute!" The stage manager shouts through the megaphone. Where did she get a megaphone?! "Let's go, ladies! Hustle! Hustle! Hustle!" She looks in my direction. "Alabama! Let's go!"
"Go get that crown!" Marlow whispers, tossing me a wink before she disappears through the doors.
Grabbing my sash, I chaotically stumble into line with Iowa and New York on either side of me. Whimsical music booms through the sound system as we wait backstage for our cue.
"Go! Go! Go!"
Unable to think about anything other than not falling flat on my face, I smile and wave as all fifty contestants make their way onto the stage, the final three leading the way.
"Welcome back," the host says. "For one of our three finalists, a new and exciting chapter will begin, but first, let's give a big round of applause for our reigning queen, Kimber Lee, as she does her final walk as Miss USA?—"
I attempt to focus on Kimber as she takes the runway, but my gaze keeps slipping toward the back of the room, and every time I glance over, I meet his eyes—his beautiful hazel eyes. They stay glued to mine, unwavering, unflinching, undeniably magnetic.
A cheeky smirk clips the corner of his mouth as he wiggles the sign in his hands, and I blush, shaking my head as I mouth "idiot" at him.
He sticks out like a sore thumb. A gorgeous, rugged, and delicious sore thumb.
He points a finger at me and mouths back, "your idiot," or at least I think that's what he says.
Either that or "you're an idiot." I prefer the former. It's sweeter. I'll stick with that.
"Thank you, Kimber," the host says as the results are brought up to the stage, and intense, dramatic music circles the room. "The selection committee and the viewers at home have made their final decisions. Ladies, remember, you are all winners up here, and good luck to all of you..."
Iowa squeezes my hand and says, "I hope it's you."
Unable to break eye contact with Jesse, I whisper back, "I hope it's not."
"Second runner up for Miss USA is..." The host pauses. "New York. Congratulations, New York!"
Tisha squeals as she accepts her flowers and steps off to the side, leaving Iowa and me holding hands. It takes all my self-control not to break free of her hand and run into the audience, but I wait, I patiently wait, wishing my name isn't called.
Come on. Come on.
"Two women remain. Please take center stage, Alabama and Iowa.
" Connie and I shuffle to the middle of the platform, bright lights illuminating our faces.
I hate it. I can't see into the crowd anymore.
"One of you is only a moment away from being awarded the crown.
If for any reason, the winner can't perform her duties, the first runner-up will take her place.
" Connie squeezes my hand so tight my fingers feel like they'll burst open.
“This year’s Miss USA is…Iowa!" Connie da ng near blows my eardrums out as she screams and darts to the front of the stage.
Holy moly, girl! "Congratulations Iowa! Please take your first walk as Miss USA! "
Cheers burst from the audience, and confetti pours from the ceiling as all fifty contestants converge around Connie as she's crowned the new Miss USA. Although I want to celebrate her win, I want something else a little bit more.
I wait as long as possible, counting down the seconds when I know the cameras are no longer rolling.
As soon as I see the host lower his microphone and loosen his bowtie, I leap off the stage, ignoring every single person trying to get my attention as I elbow my way through hordes of people, looking for one.
The one. The only one that matters at this moment.
All the lights and chaos and noise and people disappear the moment I set my eyes on him. With anticipation, nerves, giddiness, and adrenaline pumping through my veins, I'm surprised that when I stop in front of Jesse and the rest of The Sons, I'm unable to say a damn word.
He lowers the sign and stares at me. Not Savannah, the beauty queen. But me. The real me. And boy, is it terrifying. Terrifying and wonderful and so goddamn freeing.
"I didn't win," I finally say, swallowing away a ball of nervousness as he stands a foot away from me, his chest rising and falling, pieces of confetti stuck in his groomed beard. "I...lost."
"Not true," Jesse says, taking a purposeful step forward. He hesitates for a second before cupping my cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking my hairline. "You've always been a queen."
"Really?" I lean into his warm touch, my body melting with peace. "I thought I was a princess?"
Jesse smirks, wrapping his other hand around my waist as he gazes longingly into my eyes. "Maybe it's time for a promotion?"
"I don't know..." I shrug coyly, unable to stop grinning. "I kind of prefer princess."
"Kiss already!" Ellie groans, and we turn our heads to Pippa's five-year-old.
"El!" Pippa scolds, slapping her hand over her child's mouth. "Ignore her?—"
Before I can get a word out, Jesse grabs my chin and slams his lips against mine with rough urgency. His tongue darts inside my mouth as my arms snake around his neck. His moans enter my lungs and join my own as we exchange sweet, reunited breaths.
"I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye," I whisper as we pull away, still tangled in each other's arms. "I shouldn't have?—"
"Shh," he hushes me, sweeping his thumb across my lips. "It doesn't matter, princess." He arches over, whispering in my ear, "I told you I wasn't gonna let you go."
A shiver tingles my spine. "But you stopped calling me."
"Because you asked," he says, gaze flitting across my face. "Figured you needed some time." He cocks his head. "Can I assume that time's up?"
I grin up at him. "What do you think?"
"I think that we should get out of here." He looks around at the dispersing crowd. "What do you say? Up for a ride?"
"I'm wearing a dress," I note, lifting a playful brow.
Jesse smirks. "Not for long."
"I have a better idea," I say, lacing my fingers through his as I drag him away from the boys and Pippa, tossing 'em all a wily wink.
"Where are we going?" he asks as I lead him through the ballroom toward the lobby of the hotel.
"Upstairs.” I give him a suggestive smile. "Every queen deserves a coronation, right?"
Jesse smirks. "Maybe even two?"
"Queens only get coronated once?—"
"Savannah!" Oh, you've got to be kidding me! I speed up, hoping to outrun the walking Ken doll, but the sucker is fast despite his ridiculously tight suit. "Savannah! Wait up!"
"Shoot!" I grumble as James stops us outside the elevator doors. Dreading the interaction, I kindly address him, "Can I help you?"
James frowns, his prissy gaze darting between Jesse and me and then to our clasped hands. "Where are you going?"
"Why does it matter?—"
"Better fuck off, pal," Jesse grunts, taking a step forward like a blossoming peacock. Oh no . James swallows, puffing out his own chest. Jesse snorts. "Beat it, kid." He blinks. "Go."
Stupidly gaining some bravado, James says, "Make me, tough guy."
"Please don't?— "
Too late.
I wince as Jesse winds up his fist and sucker punches James right in that pretty little nose of his. Immediately, two of Mayor Lockwood's security guards appear and body-slam Jesse up against the wall.
Well…that was short lived.
"Assault!" James cries, holding his bleeding nose. "That's assault." He looks around the room, whining like a teething baby. "He assaulted me!"
"Jesse!" I grumble, swatting at his shoulders as the security guards wave over a police officer. "What is wrong with you?! You can't just go and punch people in the face. Do you know who that is?! That's the mayor's son!"
"So?" Jesse sighs as an officer slaps a pair of handcuffs on him, unfazed by the whole scenario. "I didn't like the way he was looking at you."
I cross my arms. "We could be having sex now, but instead, you're going to the station. Nice. Real nice."
"It's fine." Jesse rolls his eyes. "I'll be out in a few hours."
"You better thank your lucky stars that I love you, Jesse Paxton," I state, glowering at the big oaf. "Can't say I like seeing you in handcuffs."
Jesse's eyes glow brighter than I've ever seen 'em shine. "I love you too, princess," he coos, tossing me a wink. "And who knows, maybe you'll be the one in handcuffs soon."
I scoff. "I ain't getting arrested anytime soon, darlin'."
"That's not what I meant," he rasps as the police officer orders him to walk. He looks back at me. "Be ready for me, my queen . "
As Jesse gets escorted out of the building, my parents, Beau, and Marlow enter the lobby.
"What on earth happened here?" Momma gasps, covering her mouth as she follows my sightline. "Who was that boorish baboon?”
“Oh, Momma…” With a light giggle, I loop my arm affectionately through hers, praying that she doesn’t faint as I say, proud and ever so excited, “That’s your future son-in-law, I reckon."
“Oh my…” Momma swallows, leaning heavily against my shoulder. “So not a surfer boy, huh?” She expels a heavy gust of air. “Well… There goes that dreamy governor’s mansion.”
I wince. “You mad?”
“I don’t know…” The woman swallows away decades of bitter judgement. “Are you happy?”
“I am,” I say with absolute certainty. “I really really am.”
Momma stares at me, and for the first time in a long time, I genuinely think she sees me. With a tight smile of resolve, she turns to my daddy and says, “John… call your lawyer. It appears we need to keep a baboon out of jail.”
I beam.
She may as well have said, “Welcome to the family.”