29. Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Cooper
P hase two of our plan—or as I like to call it, the douche gets douched on —is set and ready for tonight.
It’s been weeks since we’ve done anything new to Dillon, so we’re both itching to find another way to annoy the man out of our lives.
Sutton prepped for the prank the only way she knew how. By spending two hours taking an “everything” shower. Why the woman needs her entire body to be as smooth as a baby’s bottom to prank her ex is beyond me.
I wish I could say she’s doing it for me. But that’d be a lie. I’d love that woman if she had hair coming out of her eyeballs. And I’d sure as hell still want to fuck her. So a little hair and sweat don’t bug me. Hell, I’ve fucked her while she was smelly and sweaty after going on one brief walk around the block. The woman is so out of shape it’s insane. I tried to take her on a jog with me the other day, and she tried to pass out when we weren’t even a block down the road. I should’ve known better. Most days, the driveway has her winded.
I glance at my watch one more time. I swear if she doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to lose it. We’re gonna be late for when his band plays, and then the plan will be pointless. We’d have to wait another week before we could do it again.
“Come on, Sutton. You’re taking too long,” I yell. “Do you even want to do this?”
“How can you even question me? Do you know how much time and money I’ve put into this prank?” she asks as she steps out into the hallway. Her long golden-tan legs shimmering in the dimly lit hall. I suck in a breath as I trace from her feet in those high heels, all the way up to her short leather mini skirt. She’s wearing a shimmering triangle halter top that barely covers her breasts and leaves her back completely exposed.
She’s a radiant god.
And I can’t wait to get her back home to fuck her senseless.
I don’t say a word as I continue to stare at her. She looks in the mirror in the hallway one last time, ruffling her hair a little bit to make it messy, and then smiles at me. “What?”
“You look… hot.”
Her smile grows, and she glances back in the mirror. “I do, don’t I?”
“Always so humble, baby opossum.” I stand and make my way over to her.
Her gaze narrows in frustration. “Why won’t you drop the baby opossum shit?”
Resting my chin on her shoulder, I peer at her through the mirror. “The better question is, why would I ever drop it?” I shoot back.
“I hate you.”
I smile and press a kiss into her neck. “No you don’t.”
Sutton’s phone pings with a text alert. “Oh shit, is that the time?” she asks, staring down at it.
“Are you kidding me? I told you what time it was not even ten minutes ago when I told you we needed to leave.”
“Lies.” She scrambles out of my embrace and moves faster than I’ve ever seen her do, sprinting into the kitchen to grab the two stuffed extra-large tote bags. “A little urgency would be nice, Cooper,” she says, throwing one of the bags at me.
I rub my forehead with my free hand. The things I do for this woman .
After getting stuck in stop-and-go traffic, we pull into a parking spot two blocks from the club.
Killing the ignition, I turn to her. “You ready to stir the pot?”
She worries her bottom lip. “You don’t think it’s too much, do you?”
“Sut, baby, it’s a little late to be having second thoughts.”
She huffs a laugh. “I’m the king of second thoughts.”
“Yes, but one was about marrying the loser, and today is about getting him out of your life.”
“Sounds like the same thing to me.”
I take her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. “What are you nervous about?”
“That we might do actual harm to him instead of making his life harder.”
“This won’t affect his career negatively.”
Even as she nods her agreement and understanding, her brow creases with worry. “What if we get in trouble?”
“We won’t. We covered our tracks. It won’t hurt him, but most importantly, it won’t hurt us.”
“You’re sure?”
“A million percent. But if you want to call it off, we can. It’s okay.”
She takes a deep breath. “I just need a shot of something strong.”
“Okay. Booze for my baby, coming right up.”
Vivian and Nate are inside waiting for us as we flash the bouncers our IDs and let them search our bags.
“Finally,” Vivian shouts at us over the crowded room. Behind her, Nate is busy hanging a banner with the band’s name hand-painted on it. We spared no expense when it came to advertisement.
Vivian races around the small foldable table she and Nate brought, almost knocking Sutton over in a giant hug.
“Sorry we’re late. I was trying to look the part of vixen vendor.”
“And you delivered.” Vivian wiggles her brows.
“Thank you, my fair lady.” Sutton curtsies to Viv, then turns to me and demands I get her the shot I promised before she pisses herself from nerves.
Unsure if she’d actually anxiously urinate, I oblige, not wanting to have to race home to grab her new clothes.
Most men would’ve laughed off a comment like that, thinking it was a joke. But not me. No, I’ve learned not to play around when it comes to three things with Sutton.
Food, blankets, and bodily fluids.
There are some risks I’m not willing to take.
I grab Sutton a shot of vodka and a lemon drop while only getting a bottle of water for myself. If things go wrong tonight, not that I think they will, I want to be levelheaded, just in case.
When I make it back to the table, Sutton grabs the shot, giving me a quick thank-you before tossing it back.
She hisses through her teeth. “That’s the stuff. It burns like the courage of a thousand men going down.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Did you mean—”
She pats me on the chest. “You bet your tight ass, I did.” She hands me back the shot glass in exchange for her lemon drop. With a quick sip, she sits the drink down. “Now let’s finish setting up before Muzzled Velocity takes the stage in a few.”
“As much as we want to stay and watch you both make a fool of d-bag Dillon, Viv is getting tired, so we are going to call it a night,” Nate says, draping his arm over Vivian’s shoulder.
“Boo. You can’t bail. We haven’t even made our first sale yet.” Sutton stomps her foot at Viv.
Vivian’s nose crinkles. “Sut, I told you I didn’t want you to act like a child for practice.”
“But Vivian…”
“But nothing.” Viv glares as Sutton crosses her arms.
Nate and I glance at each other in confusion, then turn our sights back to our colorful ladies.
“Fine.” Sutton rolls her eyes. “Leave.”
“I will. I’m tired.”
The two of them stare at each other for a tense moment, and then Sutton smiles and wraps Vivian in a hug. “See you tomorrow?” she asks.
“Same time as usual,” Vivian replies cheerily before spinning on her heels and dragging Nate along behind her.
“Do I even want to know?” I ask, reaching for the bags on the floor.
She shrugs. “Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway. Viv’s a little nervous about the actual mom thing and isn’t sure she can be an authority figure, so I’m helping her in the only way I know how.”
“By being a brat?”
“Exactly,” she exclaims with a small bounce in her step.
I toss a bag of shirts in her direction, and she catches it.
“Seriously, how are we not going to get sued for these?” She laughs, pulling the first shirt out of the bag.
The shirt reads, “Dillon the Douche, not recommended by nine out of ten gynecologists . ” The other is a picture of Dillon’s face on the tip of a sex toy, and underneath, it says, “Dil-do.”
“Because we are donating the profits, minus the cost of production, to said douche’s move-out fund. Also, I put the vendor’s license in his name,” I tell her with a smirk as I fold each shirt into piles based on designs and size.
The shirts are so funny, I almost want to keep one for myself. But that would mean owning something with the man whose face I despise on it. I’m not sure it’s something I am ready for. And with Sutton’s latest track record for stealing my clothes, the shirt would end up being hers in no time.
We’re finishing setting up our makeshift table when Dillon’s band takes the stage.
The now overly familiar sounds of their songs blare through the air.
Beside me, Sutton bobs her head, humming the tune.
I glare at her, but she just grins. “What? It’s catchy as hell.”
“I hate that his music isn’t complete and total trash.”
“Trust me, I get it. It only makes me more annoyed with him. Like the man is talented, so why does he have to suck so much?”
“Right? If I didn’t know him, I might—” I gag. “—be a fan.”
She laughs. “It’s a hard pill to swallow, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea.”
“Um, I used to be the man’s biggest fan… Some might have even called me a groupie.”
“Please don’t remind me that you’ve had sexual relations with that man.”
She clicks her tongue. “Jealousy isn’t attractive.”
“You literally told me last night that Chuck Bass’s jealousy in Gossip Girl was the hottest thing that’s ever existed.”
“That was Chuck… You, sir, are no Chuck.”
“And thank God for that,” I mutter.
“What was that?” She angles her head. “Are you saying you aren’t as crazy obsessed with me as Chuck is with Blair? Do I not drive you crazy with the intensity of your love for me?”
“You drive me crazy, alright.”
“I’m choosing to believe you meant that romantically.”
I hum at her and continue to straighten our merchandise.
It doesn’t take long until Muzzled Velocity’s fan girls start swinging by our table, loving the stupid shirts.
Not a soul seems to care that they’re a blatant dig at the lead singer of the band.
No, our drunk clientele find them absolutely hilarious and buy them up before the next band has even taken the stage.
Sutton is as shocked as I am when people ask if we have an online site or an order form.
I am half tempted to make one. But instead, we promise to be at their next local show with more shirts and maybe a new design or two.
I’m folding up the table as Sutton tears down the sign, taking sips of her third lemon drop of the night.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Dillon’s sweaty beet-red face as he eyes a shirt on a girl walking past him.
I twist my back to him, blocking Sutton in the process. The last thing we need is for Dillon to see us here.
Would it make him realize how far we are willing to go to get him to leave our lives? Maybe. But it could also end in me being punched in the face, and I, for one, am not a fan of that outcome.
No matter what, the shirts will piss him off, and the money from the sales will be placed into his move-out fund, so he will eventually know we are responsible. But I’d prefer it didn’t happen in a crowded bar where one or both of us could be arrested, depending on how he decides to react.
But by the sound of his angry voice booming over the music, he is livid.
“Time to go.” I swat Sutton’s ass.
She giggles but doesn’t fight me as I guide her out the door.