Chapter 45 Spencer
Everything had been fine for most of the night.
We’d arrived without the Demon, and everyone managed to stay away from her, which I didn’t think was even possible.
Not one of us had killed Randall yet, even after Jake sent us a group message about how he spiked her drink.
He also told us he’d taken some so she wouldn’t be as out of it and vulnerable.
The guys fell in line to thank him or praise him for what a good idea that was, but I couldn’t help rolling my eyes.
Just what we needed. Another guy to add to her ever-growing collection.
I simply sent a thumbs up so they knew I read the message, but even being annoyed, I couldn’t really say shit.
It wasn’t a terrible idea. I’d bet money Jake was a decent fighter.
He runs drugs and the fight ring for Zan.
You don’t get a rep like his for running and staying alive if you can’t defend yourself.
Not to mention I’ve heard about him in the rings a few times, though I’d never cared to pay attention.
Now I wish I had, if only to know whether he won or lost. But even given both of those things, I’d bet money Jade was still the better fighter, which made having her in top shape our best bet for tonight.
And we needed every advantage we could get.
I’d spent all week trying to lay this night out in a way where we end up with the upper hand, but it wasn’t possible.
With so many variables, the best we can hope for is that none of us die.
Fortunately, Jade agreed to stay out of the rings, so even if Randall takes her to the auction and she ends up back there, she won’t be staying.
Apparently, she thinks she can do a lot from outside the rings now that we're all working together. Took her long enough to realize it.
I sip my Pepsi, wishing it was something stronger while women old enough to be my mother, eyefuck me as they pass by.
Disgusting.
We all cleaned up for this. The goal is to blend in after all, and with our suits, we fit the money class with no problem. After all, this is where we grew up, though most of us wish we hadn’t. Rick and Trent are the only ones with half-ass decent childhoods.
We’d changed it up enough that we don’t all look like we're together. Zander went all-black with some red splashed in. Rick went with black pants and a coat with a red shirt and black tie. One of his favorites because, of course, Rick has a favorite suit.
Trent opted for a gray suit with a white shirt and, of fucking course, a green tie.
While Kratos was hardly in formal wear. I think he had on black jeans, honestly, but he has a nice white dress shirt on and even a black tie.
Which is more effort than I’ve ever seen him put into his appearance before for something he fucking hates.
And of course, Jake is in almost all black and green to match the Demon.
I went with mostly black, the only pop of color a deep purple button-up, since purple is my favorite color.
The real difference with us is that we're young, and a lot of these women with money seem to like that. I’m drawing more attention than I would like.
Considering I would like zero attention, my craving for alcohol is off the charts.
I’ll have to have a drink later, though, because I can’t let the appeal of a buzz win out over my need to have a level head.
“I swear I’m tempted to buy everything so that we can get this over with,” Zan mumbles for probably the fourth time as he stuffs yet another roll into his mouth.
Every table has these little bread baskets with fancy rolls, but hardly anyone ever touches them, except for Zan, of course.
Our basket has had to be refilled at least three times now, and at the rate he's going, I’m sure it will have to be at least once more.
I don’t even bother responding. I know he’s just complaining.
If we could have bought everything out and made it go faster, I know he would’ve done it already.
If not him, then Kratos, or even Rick, but that’s not how charity auctions work, and he knows that.
Which means we have to sit here until it's over, no matter how torturous it is.
Turning in my chair, I take stock of the room for the millionth time.
Zan and I picked a table in the back specifically for this purpose.
Rick and Trent both sit with their families to give the illusion that they are here with them, because everyone knows that where Rick is, Zan and I aren’t far behind.
Kratos is, well, Kratos, and he can be anywhere in the damn city that he so well chooses.
So, while his being here is a bit out of character, it’s not strange enough to draw suspicion.
Especially because, as far as we’re aware, Randall doesn’t know about Jade’s connection to him.
Hell, I don’t even know if he knows she has a connection to Vengeance at all.
To the outside, it would appear her connection to us is only because of Clair, and we're banking on it to stay that way.
Not to mention, I don’t think Randall has the balls to call Kratos out, even if he didn’t want him here. Everyone knows Vengeance, whether they broadcast it or not, and unlike us, his involvement isn’t something that he shies away from.
Everyone is still exactly where they were when I checked not five minutes ago, and I have to swallow down a sigh of frustration. I don’t want to give Zan any reason to think I’m just as miserable as he is, or he won’t ever stop complaining, but man, this blows.
I reach for a roll of my own, more out of a need to move than because I’m hungry, and settle in to wait.
My eyes only stray to Jade to ensure she’s holding up okay at the same table as Randall, and nothing more.
As boring as everything was before, I wish I could go back to it now.
The auction finishes, and I watch as Jade and Jake head past our table and down the hall.
My eyes follow her as they turn down one of the halls that has a bathroom, and I turn my attention back to the room.
Nobody so much as blinks as she walks around looking like she was born into this, just like we were, and I once again find myself in awe of her.
Not that I would ever tell anyone that. Just because she cleans up nicely doesn’t mean shit. You can be beautiful and fierce and still be annoying as fuck.
Shit.
I shake my head to clear it. I have a million things I can focus on right now, none of which need to be about how nice she looks, even if she does.
Shit.
Typically, people hang around for a while after the last items purchased, talking about the useless things they bought, basically bragging about how much money they have.
It’s disgusting, but tonight we need to blend in as much as possible, so in an effort to do just that, I stand and head toward Trent.
His mother passes me with a smile on her way out, and I smile back. Rhonda is a wonderful mother and overall person. I don’t have to like her son to admit that, and I would never be rude to her just because of him.
I’m not a monster.
“How ya holding up?” Trent asks as I come to a stop next to him.
I often forget just how well Trent knows us, knows me. We might not be close anymore, but I’ve never liked this shit. None of us have.
I grunt in way of response, shoving my hands in my pockets to stop myself from snagging a drink off the passing waiter's tray.
Trent chuckles, and I shoot him a glare that only makes him laugh harder.
“Better than Zan,” I say, shooting a look his way, where he still sits at the table.
He’s no longer eating bread, which is surprising until I see him spinning one of the butter knives around.
If he’s not eating, he’s fidgeting, but at least for now, he’s not losing his shit, so I can’t complain too much.
Trent turns to look and sighs. “Yeah, I can’t say I love this shit. I’ve never hated it as much as you guys, but tonight everything is taking forever, and this whole thing has me on edge,” he says with a shrug, and I nod.
I’m not much of a talker to begin with, but the conversation with Trent is even harder with how often we’ve bumped heads the last few years, and as silence creeps in, I can’t think of a single thing to say.
It’s slightly uncomfortable, and while it doesn’t really bother me much, I know it might seem strange if we just stand here silent.
Fuck, I hate blending in.
Small talk is one of the most annoying things about these functions, hell, about life in general.
One of my favorite things about being higher in Vengeance is the wide berth people typically give us, and while that still might be the case for some people here, it's not for everyone. I’ve probably talked to more people tonight that I didn’t care to than I have in the last six months combined.
“How’s your mom been?” I force myself to ask, picking a topic that, at the very least, doesn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out.
If I have to make small talk, I might as well make it as tolerable as possible, and his mother did a lot for both Zan and me when we were younger. Honestly, she’s a lot like Clair.
Trent’s eyes widen in shock at my question.
When he turns to look at me, the shock is gone.
“She’s been good,” he says with a nod, and for a second I think that’s all he’s going to say, and I swallow down a groan of frustration.
Usually, Trent is a pretty talkative guy, especially when it’s something he’s interested in or someone he cares about.
I was hoping that bringing up his mom would keep him talking so that I wouldn’t have to.
“The stables are doing well,” he continues, and I almost sigh in relief. “She adores Jade,” he says, and the stupid smile that lights up his face looks an awful lot like the one Zan gets when he talks about her.
I take it back.