Chapter 22 #2
He doesn’t respond, but it’s fine. He has a lot to think about now.
Only the Backstreet Boys fill the silence, and because I’m me, I start singing along, loud and unapologetically.
At first, Nicholas doesn’t react, but as I hit the chorus with all the passion of a seasoned boy-band fan, I swear I hear something.
It’s faint, so faint I almost miss it, a low hum, barely there but definitely in tune.
I pause mid-line, side-eyeing him. “Harrington… are you humming?”
His jaw tightens, and he keeps his eyes on the road. “No.”
“You are. I can hear it.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“You so were.” I grin like I’ve hit the jackpot.
He rolls his eyes, but I catch that almost smile again. “Just sing your damn song, Walker.”
I laugh, picking up where I left off, belting out the next line with exaggerated drama. And as the chorus hits again, I hear it once more, that almost imperceptible hum. It’s faint, but it’s there. And yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose now.
By the time the song fades out, I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
Maybe there is something to like about this guy after all.
And thank fuck, because the rest of our lives would be miserable if there wasn’t.
Nicholas pulls the car to a stop in front of a rundown house in a neighborhood that screams questionable choices. I can feel him bristling even without looking at him. His fancy shoes and sleek suit don’t exactly blend in.
Oh well. He’ll survive.
“Where even are we?” he asks sharply, his eyes scanning the street like it might attack him.
“Told you.” I roll my eyes. “We’re getting a van.”
“Yeah, but I thought we’d go to a dealer or some shit.”
That makes me laugh. “A dealer? No dealer has the equipment we need.”
He jerks his chin toward the van already parked out front. It’s a beat-up white box that looks like it’s been through at least one apocalypse.
“Then what the hell is that?”
“A van. From a private seller,” I explain as if I’m talking to a five-year-old. “It’s got most of what I need. I’ll add the rest myself before the show.”
“And where, exactly, did you find this private seller?” His voice is dripping with suspicion.
“Dark web.”
“Of fucking course.” He sighs, dragging a hand down his face.
We step out of the car, and his shoes crunch against the gravel. Already, he seems to be regretting every life choice that brought him here. Good. Builds character.
The front door opens, and out steps the guy. Short, beer belly, and wearing a shirt with some faded sports logo on it. He takes one look at us, his eyes widening. “Whoa. You guys tall as fuck, huh?”
“Hello—” Nicholas starts, but I cut him off. He’s way too polite for an exchange like this.
“Can we take a look inside?”
The guy shrugs and tosses the keys to me. “Sure thing. Knock yourselves out.”
I slide open the van door and hop in, ducking to avoid hitting my head. The inside smells of stale coffee and cheap cologne, but the equipment? Oh, it’s beautiful. Monitors, signal boosters, control pads.
This thing is a dream for flying drones and controlling illusions during the show.
I’ll need to tweak a few systems and add some upgrades, but the foundation is solid.
Alaric had his doubts about pulling off all the magic tricks on the street, but this van?
This van makes it doable. Hell, it makes it genius.
I trail a hand over one of the control pads, grinning.
And when the show’s done, and we need to make our escape?
It’s the perfect getaway ride. No one’s going to suspect a plain white van.
Not a billionaire-style getaway car, sure, but that’s exactly the point.
No one will be looking for us in something this… pedestrian.
Of course, it does have the distinct free candy vibes that make it look like it belongs in a suburban neighborhood’s worst nightmares, but after the chaos we’re about to unleash, I’m banking on people overlooking it. Hopefully.
Nicholas steps in behind me, glancing around like he’s trying to decide if he’s impressed or simply annoyed.
I size him up, giving him an exaggerated once-over. “What are you, five-foot-one?”
He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I’m six-foot-three.”
“Whatever you say, Short King.” I grin, making him huff a reluctant laugh. “This’ll work. It’s got everything I need.”
“That’s it?” he asks, crossing his arms.
“That’s it.”
“Why did I have to come?”
“To drive me here, obviously.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, instantly grinning when I see a message from Sparkle. “Dreamgirl’s awake,” I announce, more to myself than Nicholas, but he’s watching me now, curiosity sparking in his otherwise grumpy expression.
I click on the video, and the van fills with the unmistakable sound of her breathless moans. The screen lights up with a shot of her fingers moving against her clit, her head tipping back as she murmurs my name like a prayer.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, leaning in closer to the screen like it might pull me through.
Nicholas, wide-eyed, mutters an equally stunned, “Fuck.”
Snapping out of it, I quickly shut off the screen, cutting the sound mid-moan. The abrupt silence feels almost obscene, but not half as much as Nicholas’s slack-jawed expression.
“What the fuck, man?” I glare at him, holding my phone protectively against my chest. “Those are Sparkle perks. Subscription only.”
He blinks, visibly shaking himself out of whatever trance she just pulled him into. “Sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s fine.” I wave him off, smirking. “That was a teaser. You’re on the free trial, but you should consider upgrading to a plan soon. Comes with exclusive content and… perks.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
“You’re so full of shit,” he shoots back, his ears faintly pink as he adjusts his cuffs unnecessarily.
“Am I?” I lean casually against the van’s side, flipping the phone in my hand. “Because that sounded an awful lot like someone who got a sneak peek of something he’s not ready to admit he wants.”
“I don’t want—” He stops himself, clearly thinking better of it, then points at me with a sharp glare. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re jealous.” I grin wider, enjoying the hell out of this. “It’s okay, Harrington. It’s cute. Just remember, if you want the premium plan, you’ll have to earn it.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, turning away, but not before I catch the faintest flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Fair.” I step out of the van. “But I’ve got the girl, and I’m taller.” Nicholas follows, his scowl deepening, but I don’t give him a chance to fire back. Turning to the seller, I toss him a quick nod. “We’ll take it.”
“Great!” The guy’s grin stretches wide. “Okay, like we said, sixteen grand in cash, and it’s all yours.”
I glance at Nicholas. “Pay the man, Harrington.”
“Why the hell would I—”
“Don’t act like you don’t have that much cash on you right now.”
He scoffs, then pulls his wallet from his jacket and counts out the bills with an air of disdain. “Fine.” He slaps the cash into the guy’s hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” the seller says with a sly grin.
I walk around the van to the driver’s side, turning back to point at Nicholas. “Fix this with her, dickhead.”
He narrows his eyes but doesn’t respond, his visible irritation as satisfying as the hum of the van’s engine beneath my hand. I give him one last smirk before pulling away, leaving him standing there with his expensive shoes, his frown, and a van’s worth of unresolved feelings.
Time to get back to my Sparkle.
Maybe she needs a hand.