Drinking Age #4
Colt downs half my drink in one go and gives me an incredulous look. “Are you drinking juice?”
I shrug. “Dolly can’t drink right now. I didn’t want to drink in front of her.”
“It’s fine,” Dolly says. “Really, Preston. It’s not like I’m a recovering alcoholic.”
“Dude, I’m sure Knight will let you borrow his sippy cup if you can’t handle a real drink,” Colt says, slapping my shoulder.
“The rest of us aren’t even legally allowed to drink,” I point out.
He laughs and flags down a waiter, who arrives a minute later with a tray full of frosted mugs of beer. We all grab for them, and Harper and Gloria get the same one and slosh half of it over their hands, laughing like it’s the funniest shit ever.
“Hey, Royal,” Gloria calls. “Come get your girl. She’s drunk!” She turns to where he’s sitting at another table, watching us with an expression that says he might murder us all if he didn’t have a baby on his knee. He gets up and stalks toward his sister, the baby tucked into the crook of his arm.
“Oh, shit,” Harper says, turning to me. “This is my friend Lo—or Gloria Walton, if you want to be official. I kind of kidnapped her, hence the lack of formalwear. I don’t think I even introduced y’all.”
“I know who Gloria is,” I say, glowering at the girl who just invited my worst nightmare to come sit with us.
“Oh right,” Harper says. “You gave her a scholarship this year.”
“Oh my god,” Gloria shrieks, clamping her hand over Harper’s mouth and looking around with wide eyes. “Don’t say that out loud!”
Harper slaps her hand away. “Don’t touch my fucking face,” she snaps. “Unless you’re going to be kissing me in the next five seconds, that’s a hands-free zone.”
“Speaking of,” Colt says, leaning back and adjusting himself just as Royal walks up behind him. “I think y’all owe me a show.”
“Like hell,” Royal growls.
“I thought your girlfriend was going to satisfy your girl-on-girl fantasy tonight,” I say, arching a brow at Colt.
“Where is she, anyway?” Harper asks, twisting around to see past Royal, who slips behind her chair and stands there looming over her like a creep.
“She’s shaking her ass out there,” Colt says, gesturing to the dance floor. Dixie’s sandwiched between Gideon and Sullivan now, still going strong.
Maybe she’s not as pathetic as Colt makes her out to be.
He acts like she’s following him around like a dog, like she did freshman year, but she looks pretty damn happy getting any dick rubbed on her, whether it’s his dick or not.
Or hell, maybe she’s trying to make him jealous, though it doesn’t seem to be working.
In truth, I probably understand Dixie better than anyone, maybe even better than Colt does.
After all, everyone has to decide for themselves what’s most important in the end.
Some people would rather win the person they value most rather than the person who values them most. I chose to pursue Dolly because I loved her, regardless of what she wanted or how she may or may not feel. Maybe Dixie’s the same way.
“You better get in there,” I say, elbowing Colt. “Unless you want Gideon to do more than eye fuck her like he’s been doing all night.”
“Want to give her a taste of her own medicine?” Gloria asks. “Me and Harper can go out there and sandwich you, Colt.”
“Nah, let her dance,” he says, taking a swallow of his beer. “She looks like she’s having fun.”
Gloria gives him an indignant look, but he’s too busy watching his girlfriend to notice.
It’s just as well. I don’t know Gloria well, but I can tell she’s the kind of girl who believes in the fairytale of having someone fall madly in love with her.
That only works if both people aren’t after the same thing.
Colt and Dixie work because they complement each other.
She’s into attaining the object of her desire and giving all her love to that one person. He’s into being loved and admired.
“Who are these people?” Dolly asks, nodding to a trio approaching our table.
For a second, even I don’t know. The masks make people hard to identify. But below the blonde updo and the black mask, I trace the line of a scar down the woman’s face, and I know.
“That’s Scarlet from the Downtown Diner,” I say, my eyes straying to the tall man beside her.
“Don’t worry, I made sure no Disciples were on the guest list before I invited the King of Crossbones,” Harper says to the table, tipping her chin at them as they approach. Royal steps in closer, wrapping his arms possessively around her.
“Why would there be Disciples here?” Dolly asks, sounding scandalized.
Harper shrugs. “Preston lived between Faulkner and Ridgedale the past two years. He could have made friends up there.”
“I didn’t,” I assure Dolly, squeezing her hand. There are already Disciples in Faulkner, even if Harper doesn’t know it, but I’m not about to go into that here. Dolly doesn’t need to worry about the company I keep, especially now that I’m the father of her child.
“I meant, why would there be any gang members here?” Dolly mutters under her breath as the Faulkner legends reach our table.
“They’re Preston’s friends,” Harper says. “It’s nice to have more than just the upper crust of Faulkner here, isn’t it?”
I stand from the table and nod to Scarlet before shaking hands with her companion, one of the most rarely seen members of the Crossbones leadership.
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “I frequent your fine establishment downtown, mostly for your wife’s pancakes but partly because she’s damn good people.
I’m honored to have you both in attendance. ”
His cold eyes stare from behind a pair of glasses and a mask, straight at my good one, like he already knew who I was, already knew about my eye. Maybe he keeps tabs on everyone in Faulkner, though I’m not sure why a gang leader would care about the people on this side of town.
“I heard you took a bullet to the chest,” he says. “Not bad for a silver spoon.”
“Yes, sir,” I say automatically, because suddenly I’m ten years old again, under the derisive stare of my father. I guess loathing doesn’t fall along poverty lines. Apparently powerful men from both sides of the tracks enjoy taking shots at me as much as cops do.
I have nothing to prove to any of them. My father’s in jail, and this guy’s clock is probably ticking, too. I’ll keep standing, keep fighting, no matter what they think of me, long after they’re gone. As my father found out the hard way, the only thing their scorn changes is where my loyalties lie.
“Be nice,” Scarlet says, smacking his arm lightly with her palm before enveloping me in a hug, complete with cheek kisses. “It’s good to see you again, kid. I heard about the shooting, you poor thing.”
“It was nothing,” I say. “Good as new already. This is Dolly, the one I told you about.”
“The actress,” Scarlet says, turning to Dolly with a warm smile and taking her hand in both of her own. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Doll. I heard your songs on the radio. You know, I was an actor once.”
“Really?” Dolly asks.
“Well, I only had one job,” Scarlet says, winking at her man. “But it stays in your blood forever. Even working at the diner gives me plenty of practice. Speaking of, I’m hiring if you ever feel like polishing up your skills.”
“I’d like that,” Dolly says. “I’ll drop off an application.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I say into her hair, resting my hand on her lower back.
“Just until I figure out what I want to do with my life,” she says. “And why not? I have waitressing experience, and I’m going to lose my mind if you make me stay here much longer. I need to get out and have a social life, Preston.”
I nod because this isn’t the place to have this conversation, but no way in hell is my wife working for an establishment like the Downtown Diner.
Not just because I can give her everything so she never has to work, but because the clientele is on the unsavory side, to put it nicely.
It’s one thing for me to use it as a safe haven when the rest of the town shunned us, but that’s not the kind of place for the likes of Dolly Beckett.
Not to mention the other business that undoubtedly goes on in the back of that place.
“Hey, Mav,” Colt says, nodding to the younger guy on Scarlet’s left.
Dolly turns pink, even though I know she’s not upset about the tattoo he gave her anymore. I wrap an arm around her, wanting to comfort her and show her I understand if she’s embarrassed.
“What’s up?” Maverick says, tipping his chin to us.
“Good to see you,” I say, keeping Dolly squeezed to my side.
He offers a knowing smile but doesn’t share our private matters aloud. If he did shit like that, he wouldn’t have much business, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have mine. Discretion is part of the game on his side of town, just like on ours.
Turning, he gives Harper an appreciative smile.
I remember then that Harper used to fuck the tattoo artist. No wonder Royal’s puffed up behind Harper like he’s about to explode, his face dark and stormy behind the mask.
Her fingers wrap around his wrist, her nails resting on his skin like a warning.
She’s used to putting out fires around this asshole.
“I don’t know about them, but I’m getting bored,” Gloria says, sliding in front of Maverick. “Want to go dance?”
Before I can so much as thank her with a look, she drags him away from the table.
“You invited your ex?” Royal growls.
“Smooth move, Miss A,” I say, smirking at her.
“He’s Preston’s tattoo artist,” she protests. “Besides, there are plenty of girls here that you fucked, Royal. You don’t see me starting fights with every single one of them.”
“Maybe you should,” he says.
She shakes her head and then grins at the newcomers. “Hey, Scar. Where’s Mad Dog?”
“He’s at the shop,” Scarlet says in her twangy southern drawl. “Can’t shut down everything, not even for a Darling party. Not that I’ve ever been to one. Damn, I’ve been hearing about these since I was y’all’s age.”
“Don’t let this one fool you,” Colt says. “Until the Den of Iniquity is back in service, it doesn’t count as a Darling party.”
“And I heard about your Daddy,” Scarlet says to Royal. “I’m real sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” he grits out.
“Let’s go dance, too,” Harper says, standing and grabbing his hand, dragging him off to dance.
I turn to Dolly and smile, offering her a hand. “Would my lady like to take a spin around the dancefloor?”
“Can you do that?”
“One song won’t hurt,” I say. “We’ll make it a slow one.”
“Then yes,” she says, downing the rest of her juice and slipping her hand into mine. I text Magnolia, who’s currently playing DJ, and pull Dolly out onto the floor.
A second later, a slow song starts. No one boos like they would at a high school dance, though plenty of people here are younger than us. I wrap my arms around my beauty and hold her against me. “You know I can’t let you work at the Downtown Diner,” I say.
“Let me?”
“Do I need to fuck you into submission again to remind you who makes the decisions around here?”
“You’re impossible.”
“You didn’t sign up for the prince,” I remind her. “You signed up for the beast.”
“I’m not sure I signed up for any of this.”
“And yet, here you are,” I say. “Loving every second.”
“I thought you were disappointed to find yourself at the grown-up party,” she says.
“No,” I say. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
She looks around at the sparse crowd of our friends and family, mostly attired in lovely dresses and sparkling masks instead of short skirts and excessive amounts of body spray.
The dancers sway under the warm, twinkling lights, and the waiters pass with trays of champagne flutes filled with sparkling golden champagne instead of baggies of drugs.
It may not be like the wild parties with an orgy room on the side, but it’s better.
That’s our past. This is our present.
“Dolly,” I say, holding her soft body in my arms and pressing my mask against hers. “I have to ask you something.”
“What?” she asks.
Slowly, I release her, sinking onto my knee in front of her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her hand going to her heart.
I pull out the box I’ve been holding onto all night. “This is my grandmother’s ring,” I say. “The first one. The Darling family ring. I had it fitted for you.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she glances around at the dance floor, where everyone has stopped moving and turned to watch. I don’t even spare them a look. I only have eyes for her.
“Marry me.”
“I already said yes.”
“Say it again.”
“Yes,” she says, laughing through her tears.
I take her hand and slide the ring onto her finger. Then I stand and kiss her. I’ve known since I was three years old that Dolly Beckett was mine. Now the whole world knows it.
Most important of all, she knows it, too.
the end.
Not ready to say goodbye to Preston & Dolly? For a smutty bonus epilogue about this couple, join my Endgame Readers Club, where you’ll hear about my releases, sales, and other news.
Join here:
Read on for a preview of Colt’s story, now complete!