Chapter 15 Jagger
JAGGER
Icheck the time on my phone, then tuck it into my back pocket as Annie paws at my arm. She’s been talking for a solid ten minutes, and I’ve been over it for nine.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to have those,” she teases.
Huh?
“Your phone,” she clarifies with a laugh that reminds me of nails scraping on a chalkboard. “Aren’t we supposed to leave those in our cars?”
Reining in my annoyance, I reply, “Perks of running these things.”
“I can think of a few more perks, if you’d like.
” She pets my bicep again, her long, pointy nails tickling my skin through my T-shirt before she trails them down my forearm and back again.
I should like the feeling. Normally, I do.
But tonight, it feels like ants crawling beneath my skin. The realization only irritates me more.
We invested way too much money into tonight, and if it doesn’t pan out, I’m gonna seriously kill my little brother.
He’s been working day and night, trying to get everything ready while promising it’ll make a splash and will earn back our investment by the end of the night.
I, however, am not so optimistic. Add in all the money I lost during fight night a few weeks ago, and I’m ready to lose my shit.
Then again, Ford’s the numbers guy, not me.
Maybe I should have a little more faith.
And maybe pigs can fly.
The muscle in my jaw twinges. I spread my legs and shift on the throne in the center of the amusement park, trying to focus on what’s in front of me instead of my shitty attitude and the never-ending list of what if’s that love plaguing me.
The carnival was abandoned at least two decades ago after someone died on one of the rides and the family sued.
Instead of trying to stay open, the owners closed the gates and declared bankruptcy.
Now, it’s another location in the rotation for Harden Nights.
As Hawke approaches, Annie jumps to her feet, vacating the throne on my left for my brother to take. He doesn’t ask her to, but the girl knows better. Everyone knows better.
Call it another perk.
“Find me later,” she coos, stepping off the main stage and into the crowd.
I won’t. Not likely. But I’m too lazy to announce it to the world, let alone fill Annie in on the truth. She’s nothing but a prop. And so am I. Besides, she got what she wanted. A moment in the spotlight. On stage. Beside one of the Harden brothers. Yeah, Annie will be fine.
“Did I interrupt anything?” Hawke’s ass hits the cushion, and he spreads his legs wide, mirroring my position as he studies the side of my face. “Because you look…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. And maybe he doesn’t need to. I can read between the lines, and he knows me better than anyone. I look like shit. I look on edge. I look like I’m about to hit someone. The options are endless, and all are true.
“Listen,” he mutters. “Just came to tell you she’s here.”
I turn to him. “What did you say?”
“She’s here. Thought you’d want to know.”
He doesn’t need to say her name for me to know to whom he’s referring.
The realization doesn’t exactly ease my stress.
After confirming Violet signed the lease on her new apartment, I refused to follow up on anything else.
Besides, she’s not my problem. She has a place to stay.
My hands are clean. So why the hell haven’t I been able to get her off my mind?
My phone buzzes seconds later. Like Annie pointed out, no one’s allowed to have them on the premises during a Harden Night.
No one but us. Some would say it’s a bullshit rule, and we should be expected to follow it, too, even though we’re organizing this shit.
But the truth is, it’s a necessity. A way for us to communicate if shit hits the fan, which it inevitably does in one way or another.
I pull my phone out and read the message.
Roman
She’s here.
I scoff, typing my response.
Me
Hawke just told me. Thanks for the heads-up.
Turning my phone face down on my lap, I ask Hawke, “Who invited her?”
“I thought you did,” Hawke says.
“She shot me down before I really had the chance,” I admit. “But it would’ve been nice to know she was attending before we nailed down the activities.”
Hawke’s mouth twitches. He knows better than to showcase his amusement over the situation. “Think Ford planned that?”
“Planned what?” Ford interrupts. He takes the short set of stairs onto the platform and collapses into the third throne like he was made for it.
Once he’s settled, Hawke explains, “That Violet would be here for our first ladies’ night.”
A Cheshire grin spreads across his face as Ford leans around me to give Hawke his full attention. “Did she actually come?”
Hawke nods.
“Fuck.” With a laugh, Ford stretches out his hand, palm up and waits.
Hawke digs out a couple hundred dollar bills and hands them to Ford. “How’d you know she’d cave?”
“He cheated,” I announce. “Didn’t you, Ford.” It isn’t a question.
“Nowhere in the rules did anyone say I couldn’t extend my own invitation,” Ford defends.
Sly motherfucker. The man reminds me of a fox.
Cunning. Wiley. Often underestimated. I learned not to bet against him years ago, but for some reason I don’t understand, Hawke still humors the bastard every now and then, though it’s usually only when Roman or I am the butt of the bet.
My fingers dig into the arms of the chair.
I fight the urge to throttle the bastard when my phone buzzes again.
Roman
Came with Morgan.
My eyes thin, and I type my response.
Me
Anyone else?
Roman
Her friend, Lexie. Morgan’s little sister.
Four of Morgan’s friends are with them. It doesn't look like they came together. Not officially.
Sitting up a little straighter, I search area from the stage but come up empty.
Me
What’s she wearing?
Roman
Nirvana crop top. Light washed baggy jeans. Hair down. Your twelve o’clock.
My brows pull while I search the premises straight in front of me as if looking on a clock.
There she is. Inconspicuous enough. Or at least, she should be.
But the sliver of skin along her lean stomach gives me just enough of a glimpse to act like a carrot being dangled in front of a horse, and damn if it doesn’t make me feel like an ass.
I wonder if the bruise is gone. It should be.
Unless it was replaced with another one.
The idea alone is enough to ignite my fury.
I’ve kept my distance ever since our conversation in the quad.
Hell, I’ve even refused to look at names while grading Econ papers in hopes of keeping my bias in check.
If I had a mom around who knew the circumstances, I bet she’d be proud of my efforts.
Doesn’t erase the twitch of my cock in my jeans anytime I see her, though.
Violet smiles at something her best friend says, showcasing her straight, white teeth while causing her eyes to crinkle in the corners.
Her guard is down. That’s why she looks different.
I’ve never seen her with her guard down, and fuck if it isn’t beautiful. If she isn’t beautiful.
Making sure to keep my tone indifferent, I ask, “Why’d you invite her?”
“Violet?” Ford settles back into his chair and folds his arms, looking like the perfect jester to our kingdom. “You said you wanted to give her a chance to earn her money. Thought I’d extend the invitation myself since she clearly doesn’t like you.”
He’s right on one thing. She definitely doesn’t like me.
Ever since our conversation, she’s been avoiding me like I have gonorrhea.
Won’t even look at me when she’s in class.
Not that I care. Or that I’ve noticed. Okay, maybe I’ve noticed, but only because every other girl on the roster has slipped me their number in one way or another.
Everyone but her. Not that I’d want it, anyway, but it’s a hard thing to miss.
My eyes search for her in the crowd like she’s a homing beacon.
When I find her again, Violet looks up at the stage as if she can feel my stare.
Our eyes lock. Her smile falls, and her gaze hardens, but she doesn’t look away.
Not until her best friend cuts off our staredown by stepping in front of her.
I don’t know why I’m almost disappointed. The realization messes with my head.
“Did you invite her before or after you placed the bet?” Hawke demands.
I lift my hand to silence him, adding, “And was it before or after we agreed on having the haunted house be the main event for tonight?”
Ford shrugs. “After and before. There a problem with that?” He doesn’t wait for our answers, just barrels on. “Besides, I thought you didn’t care about her as a fuckable prospect, only as a poor girl who should have the opportunity to earn back her money,” Ford clarifies. “Now, she has one.”
Despite the man making a good point, I fight the urge to throat punch the asshole, right here. Right now. “Any other bets I should know about?”
Ford shakes his head. “Nah.”
My attention cuts to Hawke.
“We have a bet to see if you’ll hook up with her by next—”
“Come on, man!” Ford booms. “If he knows, it’ll skew the results-–”
My nostrils flare as I glare at my youngest brother. “No more bets. Not with her.”
“Then, how do you expect her to make any money tonight?” he challenges.
“You know what Jagger means,” Roman interrupts from behind him.
Ford jumps in his chair, surprised by the new addition to our conversation. “Fuck, man. You’re almost as quiet as Hawke.”
Ignoring him, Roman says, “People wanna know if we’re doing blind bets, or if we’ll keep the books open after we announce how tonight’s gonna go.”
Ford shrugs again and turns to me. “Any preference?”