19. Bay
NINETEEN
bay
The charred remnants of The Stowaway are a not-so friendly reminder of what’s keeping me to follow along with the plan and rid the planet of Emilio Wildes.
Or at least outcast the asshole.
The structure remains standing on three and a half walls, the pipes are visible, electrical wires hang depressingly from the charred ceiling, and some of the furniture sits like it had that night, but it still requires love…and a lot of money.
There’s a collection going around South Shore to help him with supporting his small family. My next drug run this weekend will go to it while some goes to my debt I owe the bank. As for the rest of the bills, I’m depending on Levi and I to nab up a few rides to get some of them off my back, at the least the bare minimum payment if I can manage.
But the past-due balance of our mortgage has been taunting me severely and they won’t help me with a modification or forbearance plan.
“I swear, it doesn’t matter the backdrop,” Reeve’s voice mutters, causing me to whip around and find him standing there, staring at me. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, McQueen.”
His kind hazel eyes hold mine, casually waiting for me as if I summoned him here, but he shouldn’t be here— again .
Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop me from taking in his ripped blue jeans and the loosely fitted white tee he’s wearing.
“Reeve, how many times do I need to bitch at you to stay on your side of the line?” I scan the area on instinct, even though he’s in no trouble here. It’s early enough in the morning that there aren’t very many people out along the strip where the bar sits. And obviously, Levi isn’t going to kill him.
He might get his ass kicked, though.
“I don’t like that rule,” he replies as if it’s just as simple as that. As if South Shore and The Landings aren’t going at it any chance they get. “That means I don’t get to see you.”
Do not, I repeat do not, fucking react to that.
“Next time, call,” I scold, the moment he steps closer.
“And be disappointed that you don’t answer?” Reeve tsks and shakes his head. “Not on your life, baby.”
“Well, your life is gonna be a hell of a lot of trouble if someone sees you here.”
“The Nameless?” Reeve narrows his hazels at me suspiciously. “You know…you’re always awfully worried about me getting caught and shit.” He smiles at me, that easy, mellowed curl of his lips that I find myself liking too much. “I wanna take you somewhere.” My brows lift. “Somewhere I think you’ll really enjoy, because watching Torin getting his ass handed to him is probably gonna be the highlight of my week.”
Sold.
Oceanview College was goals when I was in high school.
Now it’s just a reminder of shit I don’t have time to do after Dad’s stroke.
All I ever wanted was come here and learn, get a really good education, and make money. My dream was architecture and drawing since I was a kid. Half the graffiti in South Shore is mine, and since I couldn’t build at fifteen, I drew on them to make them so. Half of Levi’s tattoos are me doodling and practicing. It’s how I met Nessa when I snuck out of my house one night to spray paint Sherriff Muncy’s cop car for being a class-A prick. She was in the middle of covering artwork I did on one side of the party store, and I didn’t take it very well.
We fought, and she pulled half my hair out of my head while I bit her. Stupid young teenage shit, and we’ve been best friends ever since.
So when Reeve guides me to the football field with a game already playing, I’m nervous. I don’t know who I’m going to run into here. This is a free-for-all, so anyone from South Shore could be here, and I’m hanging out with the infamous rival gang.
Yeah, this was a bad idea.
“What’s he going to school for?” I ask Reeve as we pass a booth that sells tickets, but Reeve just continues walking through, and no one stops him. “How to be a terrorist?”
He chuckles, spinning around to walk backwards and look at me. “He doesn’t go to school. However, he wanted to be a gym teacher when we were kids. He thought playing capture the flag was what he could teach the next generation.”
My lips crack a little. “Ambitious.”
“And stupid as fuck.” He slows his pace so I can catch up with him. “But it’s to be expected, right?”
“Mhm, right.” Reeve stretches out his hand, as it would be if this conflict between our towns was never happening. It’s in such a simple and relaxed manner that it’s not too hard to comply with his request.
I want to hold it.
We get to the set of metal bleachers, jam-packed full of a bunch of kids our age as we climb up, stopping at a row, and Reeve gestures for me to step in. And when I look up, my stomach knots.
Cairo.
Watching the game with unadulterated interest in a gray tank top, his black tattoos on display, and those gauged-out ears. He rubs at the dark stubble along his jaw, resting his other elbow on his knees as his eyes follow the players on the field.
He doesn’t look like a dude who enjoys sports, but emo music and devastating girls into deep levels of depression after he breaks up with them. The broody fucker who flicks a lighter while he’s thinking. Someone always with the perfect comeback when he believes it’s worth a response.
His head cranes over then, dark eyes fastening to my body as I force myself to fucking move.
He doesn’t scare me. He’s just hot as fuck.
And as much as he doesn’t seem to care for me almost as much, if not more, I can say the feeling is mutual.
Still doesn’t mean I’m blind.
Reeve reaches out from behind me and bro-pounds it out with Cairo’s fist, leaving me to sit next to him and become a Forsaken Crew sandwich.
Almost.
When Cairo moves, a prim and pretty blonde is on her pink cellphone, hammering away at the keys with French manicured nails. Her ivory legs are crossed, exposing red-bottom heels, and it’s not just any chick—it’s Vivian.
If I didn’t know any better, and maybe I don’t, I’d think Reeve might be trying to get me assassinated.
“South Shore decided to grace us with her presence today, huh?” Cairo inquires, voice dripping without malice this go- around. Instead, my paranoia states that it sounds like he’s amused I’ve made myself publicly known I’ve allegedly switched sides. So I opt out for the obvious reason why I’d show up with my spoken enemy.
“Couldn’t miss the opportunity to see Pretty Boy get pounded on like I’ve been wanting to do since I met him.” I feel those mocha eyes latch onto my face. A challenge. As though he needs to see how I’m taking this, ironing this out in my head, and that this is a dangerous game I’m playing. “When can I see you?”
That’s when Vivian decides to lean over and discover me. Her green eyes widen a tad before she quickly rights herself and flicks her focus to Reeve.
“I see you brought your whore, Reeve,” she says sweetly, tapping the surface of her phone with her long nails as if she’s borderlining a fit.
“Better yet, your competition, Vivian,” Reeve replies dully. “Go back to shopping on your phone, and we’ll let you know the moment we start giving a fuck about what you have to say.”
Vivian doesn’t falter or cower back. In fact, she’s too busy taking inventory of my outfit and where she can probably classify me in her head. “Not sure what you mean. I’m not set to marry you, but Cairo.”
Surprise number two, ladies and gentlemen.
One of my brows mindlessly upheaves. “What?”
Cairo’s face doesn’t move from placid, which means it’s something he’s not interested in allowing me in on.
Not that I’ve earned it.
He walked out of The Stowaway three seconds after the bitch caught on fire. His boys can cover for him. Maybe he wasn’t responsible—maybe. However, the best way I can describe him is a snake in the grass.
“We’re thinking of a Winter Wonderland wedding,” Vivian replies, looping her free arm with Cairo’s muscular bicep. Her golden hair cascades in curls down the front of her baby pink top and her nails possessively clasp around his arm.
Reeve scoffs, but it’s barely audible; however, all I can do is just stare.
“What?” she presses, a hint of annoyance laced in her haughty tone.
“I think you’re going to have an accident before you get my brother to walk you down the aisle, Viv.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she retorts. “We’ve talked about it.”
I’m…confused.
I thought she was just an annoyance, not a fiancée. He went to bat against her for me the night of the big fight at the races a few weeks back.
Yet, I see what’s happening here. She’s Sherriff Muncy’s daughter. What better way to get away with shit when your father-in-law is under your thumb?
“Just be careful,” I mutter. “He’ll burn the place down.”
“I didn’t burn down that bar,” Cairo grounds out, turning his head slightly in the process for me to hear. “How many times do I need to point that out?”
“Did you carry me out then?”
“Carry you out from what?” Vivian censures, fitting the spoiled little rich bitch that she looks like. Her gaudy studded diamond earrings are worth my whole damn life. “Cairo, what is she talking about?”
“Chill, Vivian,” Reeve warns, and it sounds like a growl. “Start a fight here and you’re gonna look like the psycho bitch you are.”
“Fuck off,” she snaps back, causing the people in front of us to glimpse over their shoulders, but when they land on Cairo, they quickly right themselves back forward. “I’m not going to have someone insult me or my wedding. Nor am I going to allow this slut claw her way into my relationship and?—”
“Vivian…” Reeve sing-songs, but it’s laced with impending danger if she doesn’t shut her mouth. I can feel the impatience radiating off his skin, and I wonder how pissed looks on him.
“ What ?” Her face turns beet red, which isn’t very flattering against her porcelain skin. God, she’s like a buck ten, maybe, probably wears a size zero, and I’ll bet money she’s been on a diet since she was ten. “She can’t even come here without a hole in her shirt and you want to bring her around people who make more money than she’ll ever see in a lifetime?”
I glance down at my white tee and notice the small hole underneath the red Puma logo I picked up at the Salvation Army that I hadn’t noticed before. “Well, shit. I liked this shirt too.”
“Still makes you look fuckable, McQueen,” Reeve pipes in as if he needs to keep my self-esteem intact. “What’s a small hole when it’s just easy access to rip it off later.”
“It’s called decorum, Reeve. Get fucking educated. You only go to college that—“ My head whips over to him.
“ You go to college?”
He pushes the inside of his cheek out with the tip of his tongue. “Define go .”
I smile, because why doesn’t that comment surprise me? “You’re missing out on all this decorum. What is that? We don’t have that in South Shore.”
“Well”—he twists his body to face me a little more—“it’s where they try to teach you how to find a proper mate and wait until marriage to fuck.”
My face twists. “Sounds awful.”
“It is. And you pay six figures to get it drilled into your head while everyone around you believes they can take a shit and it smells like roses. Take Vivian, for example. She was born to marry someone powerful, but she chose to marry Cairo.”
We both laugh, and Cairo grumbles out, “Go fuck yourself, Stanton.”
“Oh, I will,” he replies. “Later, with my hand, after I drop Bay Bay off.”
I run my hand down my face to keep the blush that creeps up from being so obvious as I continue laughing. Why is jerking himself off so hot? Yeah, judge away, because it is. I wouldn’t mind watching that, actually.
“You’re disgusting,” Vivian solicits repulsively, scrunching her turned-up nose. “You belong with her.”
“Damn.” Reeve wraps his arm around my back and hip, hauling me closer to the hard side of his body. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me, Viv. But don’t lose too much sleep over how you have mediocre sex with Cairo because he can’t stand to stick his dick in you. I’ll buy you a vibrator as a wedding present.”
“Reeve,” Cairo growls through his teeth, and when Vivian leaps up to stand, probably to throw another fit of epic proportions, he doesn’t move. Instead, he peers up at her and snarls, “Sit the fuck down and shut up.”
“Watch the game, McQueen,” Reeve whispers in my ear, ignoring the possessive bitch that is Cairo’s girl and unraveling himself from me. “He’ll get upset if you don’t try to show an inkling about how he could get hurt out there.”
I take my first look at the field, observing how it’s just a normal game of football except…
“How is Torin playing if he doesn’t go to this school?”
Reeve chuckles, his hand falling to my upper thigh. “Dude on our crew goes here. And this team and Wildes have a history. The quarterback on the opposing team hates his guts, so they try to break his legs every time he’s on the field.”
“Why?” I find myself asking and locating him on the far side of the field, waiting for the ball to be hiked.
“Torin clothes-lined him last year…on accident.” I look over at Reeve, who’s wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. “Unfortunate.”
“Are you always assholes?”
“Only to other assholes.” His hazel eyes flick over to me as his thumb begins to mindlessly rub back and forth along the skin underneath my shorts. “Not pretty girls.”
I give him a sad smile, the most authentic thing I’ve given him since being around. “Oh, Reeve…you know this ends?—”
“Does it? What if I told you there was something more than all this?” He leans closer, and my breathing stops on a dime. That salty scent wafting around me, seeping into my skin and nostrils. “I like you. You’re pretty…and I don’t deserve you right now. But I sure as fuck want to, McQueen. And when we get married, you’re gonna be proud as fuck to be mine.”