Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Merchant’s Inn, Freedom
Robyn
“Guess what Lucy convinced our Neve to try out for their date this week?” Cody whispers, conspiratorially.
My brother has always been the Gossip King. Maybe he should have become the PR Director.
He is dressed in a gold mesh top and tight jeans that look sprayed on.
Eden presented me with these yummy cakes called Fudge Happens earlier. They were amazing. He served them with chocolate ice cream for dessert.
Why did he give me a sultry look, however, as he pointed out their sparkles?
Is there a hidden meaning to the word that I’m missing?
A meme, maybe?
Eden retreated with the ones that remained, a cup of hot Earl Grey and a new book to bed, rather than join us at Merchant’s Inn.
Eden doesn’t enjoy crowds, noise, or group social situations.
I would never force him into them.
Yet I live for these weekly Friday meetups with my brother, his husband, and my best friend. They keep me stable, even when my stalker ex-husband is back in Freedom, the twins are being targeted through the press, and someone mysterious is watching us from the shadows.
Yet Merchant’s Inn is familiar and safe.
My nose wrinkles at the scent of smoke and stale beer. The bar is crowded and throbbing with loud rock. The locals are dancing on the sticky floors, beneath posters of Emo bands, trying to forget their worries about their rent, lowered wages, and hunger from rising food prices.
Merchant’s Inn is at the heart of the working side of town.
Neve is the outcast who turned around with a fuck you and showed that she could become a success story, while letting her freak flag fly.
Now, every one of those freaks have somewhere that they can forget the world for at least one night of the week.
Including me.
Cody is wearing glittering golden eye makeup. I need to borrow it sometime. It’s beautiful.
Both Shay and Cody are better at applying makeup than I am. I should ask them to create a list of tips for me: The Glow-up Is Tactical.
I hum thoughtfully.
It could become another whole merchandising line: Make-up for Players Because Game Face Matters.
Shay glances at me. “What are you smiling about, love?”
He is pressed against me in the leather booth. His arm is slung around my shoulders.
Shay’s leather jacket, slashed crimson t-shirt, and smoky eyeshadow with Khol liner is stunning.
He definitely can contribute to my merchandising idea.
“Nothing,” I lie, leaning to kiss him.
I warm with joy that I can openly show affection to him like this. For months, we have had to hide our relationship in public.
Shay’s eyes glitter with the same happiness. “I love you.”
I kiss him harder.
“Hey, enough PDA.” Cody clinks his beer on the stained table. “I asked you to guess. Want to make it a bet?”
Of course. My brother is also King of Bets.
I’ve learned my lesson on that.
I break the kiss, ignoring Shay’s moan of disappointment.
I narrow my eyes at my brother. “Get behind me, Satan.”
Cody’s eyes gleam with delight.
Michael wraps his arm posessively around Cody’s shoulder. “Calm down, Code. Don’t break your beer. You’ve been looking forward to that drink all week.”
Michael has deeper shadows than normal under his eyes. He normally looks exhausted from his twelve-hour shift at the hospital, which he finishes before coming out. But now, he appears moments from slipping into sleep.
Michael is in his late thirties with ebony skin and salt and pepper hair. He’s dressed in a casual tan suit that’s open at the neck.
Cody relaxes against Michael’s chest.
“Good point.” Cody takes a deep swig. “I’ll give the reward for free then. You have one guess. If you get it right, then I’ll…” Cody cocks his head in thought. “I’ll sing any song of your choice at our next karaoke night.”
D’Angelo perks up from where he’s sprawled at the edge of the booth in a designer gray suit, swirling a whiskey.
“Any song?” D’Angelo flashes a sharp grin.
Cody matches his grin. “Any song.”
“I’m guessing first.” D’Angelo shifts stiffly in his seat.
“And that’s not ominous at all,” Michael says, dryly.
Cody meets D’Angelo’s gaze challengingly.
My gaze darts over D’Angelo.
Since he returned from practice, I’ve worried that he has been moving awkwardly. He also flinched when I hugged him, avoided Shay’s touch, and retreated to the bathroom for an hour, locking the door.
Normally, he loves to welcome Shay or me into the shower or bath with him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I took some hits in practice.” But D’Angelo wasn’t meeting my eye.
Was he lying?
He’d promised not to do that. How could I accuse him, when I knew how important honesty was to him?
D’Angelo turns in his seat to face the bar, attempting to hide his grimace. Now that I am watching, however, I still catch it.
He studies Neve, who is collecting beers onto a tray from Tom, the small but feisty bartender.
Neve has chestnut eyes and spiky midnight hair. She wears large, horn-rimmed glasses. Her rich brown skin glows bronze on her cheeks.
Tonight, she is dressed in skinny jeans that are decorated with skulls. Also, a t-shirt with the words IT WAS NEVER JUST A PHASE with an embroidered skeleton hand giving the finger.
I would never have guessed that the first partner she would have fallen for would be a sunny, adrenaline junkie.
When I was friends with Neve at high school, the most outdoorsy she got was camping in my back garden, and she only agreed because I promised to lend her my Green Day sweater.
But then, I fell for a hot sunny blond. So, who am I to talk?
I hug Shay closer. He smiles down at me softly.
“Well, the mythical Lucy, who Neve has still managed to avoid introducing to us…” D’Angelo ponders.
“Rude,” I add.
“…has already taken Neve kayaking, mountain biking, and swimming with sharks. So, my guess is bungee jumping.”
Cody’s expression lights up. “Nope.”
Shay bounces on the seat. “Me next. It must be motorcycling. It’s the best feeling in the world. What do you call an emo on a bike?”
I arch my brow. “Is that a joke? What’s the punchline?”
“Neve on the back of a Harley, screaming I would imagine.” Michael chuckles.
Cody claps his hands together. “Wrong again. Ryn?”
My men’s honor rests on me. What’s the last thing I could imagine Neve doing?
In fact, what’s the sweetest thing I could imagine Neve doing to show her love for this woman who clearly means so much to her?
My expression gentles. “Paintballing.”
Cody doubles over with laughter, reaching across the table to grasp my hand. “Awesome, sis. I knew that you would guess it. Oh, shit. That means you can choose my next song.”
I shoot him a devilish smile.
He lets go of my hand, looking even more nervous. He should do. I’ve been saving up several karaoke songs for a moment just like this.
What are sisters for?
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any scary song choices.” Michael pulls Cody’s head against his chest. “We could duet.”
I rub my hands together.
This is getting better and better.
“Have I told you how sexy you look when you’re being a little devil, love?” Shay murmurs.
His silky hair brushes my ear.
“Don’t you mean a brat?” D’Angelo harrumphs.
“Neve will be brilliant at paintballing,” Shay declares. “Also, isn’t it team building? Why don’t we play too?”
“No,” we all chorus at the same time.
Dad would have a heart attack if he knew that two of his players were taking risks like that during the playoffs. It’s already better that I don’t tell him half of the stunts that Shay pulls on his motorcycle drives by the coast.
Shay pouts. “I reckon that I’d be a good shot.”
When D’Angelo tips his whiskey glass at him, a flicker of pain crosses his face before he can hide it.
How badly was he hurt in practice?
Shay stiffens next to me. He must have noticed too.
“Not as good as me,” D’Angelo boasts with his typical cockiness. “Maybe Emos love being painted on the outside like broken rainbows. Neve can write a song lyric about the neon existential dread and… Neve is standing right behind me isn’t she?”
“Fuck you too, Hood Ornament.” Neve slams down the tray of beers onto the table.
“Come to Daddy.” Cody dives on the beers, snatching up a second bottle.
Michael wrinkles his nose. “Never call yourself that again.”
“No whiskey for me…?” D’Angelo drawls. “I’m hurt. I’m going to regret asking, but why is Hood Ornament the insult of the week?”
Neve is creative in her insults for D’Angelo. Last week it was glitch.
Shay has been taking notes. He says that his chirps are garbage, and Neve’s burns for D’Angelo have been helping him improve that skill.
I should simply allow him to read my texts from Neve. Shay would find them very educational.
Neve sprawls next to Shay, throwing her booted feet up onto the table.
She looks D’Angelo up and down dismissively, before gesturing at his suit. “It means you look shiny with your designer gear and mansion. You’re the captain. But in the end, the ornament doesn’t run shit. It’s the rest of the team who are the engine.”
I expect D’Angelo to laugh. Instead, he flinches.
Worried, I study him. “Hey, are you…?”
D’Angelo takes a long drink. “Wasn’t Lucy meant to be joining us tonight? I’m beginning to suspect that we’ve been suffering a mass hallucination, and she’s in fact, not real.”
Neve quirks her brow, before giving him the finger.
She grabs a beer, sliding it to me.
“Thanks.” I tilt my head. “We would love to meet the woman who can coax you into spending your free time running through a forest with a paintball gun. I mean, when you’re ready.”
Neve has never introduced us to any of her partners. I know this is a big step.
Neve pushes her glasses up her nose. “Lucy works most Friday evenings. I want you to meet her as well, RH. You’d get on. Lucy is also a chaos goblin.”
I attempt to look outraged. But unfortunately, that’s fair.
When I glance over at Michael, I am surprised that his eyes are closed and his head has slumped forward. “Is he asleep?”