14. Iris
14
IRIS
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Mikayla rubs her temples like I’m giving her a headache. “At what point can we be the ones to stop Lucas from breathing?”
I wave my paintbrush at her and shake my head. “He’s in the past. I’m not giving him another thought, and neither should you.”
Sandy strolls in, typing away on her phone screen. “Sorry I’m late,” she says before looking up at us. “What’d I miss?”
“So much,” Mikayla mutters. “Be prepared to feel stabby.”
Sandy’s eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “Shit. That bad?”
“Worse than you can imagine,” Mikayla answers.
I keep working on my newest project, ignoring them and their dramatics. I’ve had enough in the last few days to last me a lifetime.
Sandy hefts her oversized purse onto the tabletop, throwing her phone inside before she pulls out a bottle of wine. “I brought refreshments,” she announces with her lips turned up.
“We’re going to need them,” Mikayla says, leaning over, propping her elbow on top of the table, and placing her face in the palm of her hand.
“Drama queen,” I whisper into the canvas I’ve been working on for the last hour.
“Almost dying isn’t drama,” Mikayla shoots back.
Sandy stops mid-twist of the cap to her fancy bottle of wine she loves. “What?” Her voice comes out as a high-pitched screech. “How? Who?”
“You forgot where, why, and when,” I say, trying to be funny, but when I slide my gaze to them, I see the joke didn’t hit the way I thought it would.
“I can’t believe you’re joking about this.” Mikayla shakes her head and growls. “This isn’t a time for funnies.”
“It’s always a time for funnies,” I argue.
“I think we’re going to need this too,” Sandy says as she pulls out a flask from what seems like a bottomless pit of a purse.
“What the hell else do you have in there?” I ask her, hoping we’ll talk about something else besides the last two days of my life .
“Oh no, you’re not,” Sandy says, wagging a finger at me as she slides onto the stool next to Mikayla. “We’re not going to let you derail this conversation.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I mumble and then sigh.
“We tell one another everything,” Sandy says as she pulls out three glasses from the same purse.
“Is there anything else in there besides a traveling bar?” I say, staring at the bag like it’s magical because there’s no other way all that stuff would fit in there.
Sandy shrugs and lifts her hands. “Not really. This is my party purse. It only has one purpose, and it’s booze.”
“Don’t answer her questions until she answers ours,” Mikayla tells her.
“Brutal,” I whisper, dipping my paintbrush into the black paint to get the tiniest amount.
Sandy pours three glasses of wine, one of them smaller than the others, which is for me. “Now, talk,” she says as she pushes the wine across the table to Mikayla and me.
“I don’t think you’re prepared,” Mikayla tells her.
“I will be after this,” Sandy says before she lifts the glass to her lips and downs the wine like it’s a shot.
I stare at her in disbelief. “Jesus.”
“He’s not here, but we are. Confess.” Mikayla gives me a pointed glare. “Now.”
I sigh, leaving the wine where Sandy put it. I spend the next ten minutes telling the entire story again to Sandy, while Mikayla gives additional commentary like she’s a background narrator in my story.
“Jeez,” Sandy says when I finally stop talking.
“Jeez?” Mikayla asks Sandy with big eyes. “That’s all you got?”
Sandy lifts her chin. “I’m still processing.”
“But I’m fine. It’s over.”
“You almost were over,” Mikayla adds.
“I want to murder Lucas,” Sandy says, rubbing her hands together like her brain is working on a plan.
“I think Malakai has that covered,” Mikayla replies.
She isn’t wrong. I doubt a man like Malakai is going to let Lucas skate on his debt without paying some price, and I assume it will be his life.
“How weird is it that Brax’s family knows him?” Sandy asks, but she isn’t being mean. I can see the innocence in her question written all over her face.
“I haven’t lost sight of that fact either. My family doesn’t know any mobsters. Does yours, Sandy?” Mikayla asks.
Sandy shakes her head.
“I was all for team Braxasaurus-Rex, but now…” Mikayla’s lips turn down as she pulls in a long, deep breath, “Now, he’s slipping in my rankings of dream man for you.”
“Oh, stop,” I say, laughing that she used the same nickname for him as I did because I never uttered it to another soul. I’m certain we aren’t the first people to think of it either, but our minds do work the same, which isn’t shocking since we’re best friends.
“Brax isn’t part of that world. His grandfather knew him from the neighborhood. His family has owned that bar for decades. I’m sure they know everyone from that area.”
Mikayla stares at me, blinking a few times with an otherwise blank face. “Uh-huh,” she mumbles.
“His grandfather is a sweet man,” I continue, ignoring Mikayla and her skepticism—even if she is right, I’ll never admit it. “He totally had my back and cleared everything up.”
“Yeah, that’s something an old, retired bartender would do. I mean, I’m sure I can call a mobster and have a sit-down with him because I served him a beer thirty years ago.” Mikayla rolls her eyes as she lifts the wine to her mouth, finally filling her yapper with something other than words.
“What does it matter?” Sandy asks Mikayla as she refills her wineglass again. “She’s safe now. I don’t care who knows who as long as no one is coming after her because Lucas is a giant douchebag.”
I haven’t touched my wine yet, but these two are guzzling theirs down like it’s an Olympic sport. Sometimes I wish I didn’t sleepwalk and talk. I want to be normal, but then I think of all the times I’ve seen them with hangovers and massive headaches, and I count myself a little lucky.
“Are you sure Brax is clean?”
“Clean?” I ask, playing stupid.
“He’s not, you know…” She presses her nose to the side. “Crooked.”
“He’s clean,” I promise her. “If, and it’s a big if, his grandpa was into anything bad, Brax is not. He’s a normal guy.”
Sandy snorts. “Is there such a thing as a normal guy? I haven’t met one yet.”
Mikayla and I giggle because she isn’t far off base, but Brax is the closest to normal I’ve met.
“I met some of his family.”
Their laughter dies in an instant.
“You did?” Mikayla asks with wide eyes.
“When?” Sandy adds, jerking her chin back like the news is so shocking, she’s about to fall over.
“Before the meeting with the bad guy.” I don’t bother looking at them. I know Mikayla’s wheels are already spinning in that alcohol-soaked brain.
“Who?” Sandy asks.
“His grandma, his sister—but I’d already met her—her man, and two cousins from Florida.”
“Wow, you’re moving fast, like a high-speed train heading straight toward a cliff where the tracks end,” Mikayla says.
“It was nice. ”
“Nice?” Sandy’s voice lifts higher than usual. “Meeting someone’s family is never nice.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “His was. His grandma is a great cook. And his sister and cousins were funny. They’re an interesting family.”
“I’m sure,” Mikayla mutters.
“Hey.” I point my paintbrush at her. “I met him because of your bright idea to put me on a dating app against my will. Now that things are working out and I’m putting myself out there, you’re all filled with snark. Either be happy for me or zip it.”
Mikayla stares at me, her eyebrows up and her mouth tight. “You’re right,” she says.
That statement had to feel like a dagger going straight into her heart. There’s no one who likes to admit they’re wrong less than Mikayla.
“Wow. You did drink a lot. Maybe you should stop,” Sandy says, knowing Mikayla as well as I do.
“I’m still sober,” Mikayla says, giving Sandy the side-eye. “But that’s only because you’re being greedy and drinking it all yourself.”
“Whatever,” Sandy says, pushing the wine bottle toward Mikayla with the backs of her fingers. “Fill’er up.”
“Did you sleep with him yet?” Mikayla asks, helping herself to the small amount that’s left in the bottle.
“We slept. ”
“And what about?” Sandy makes an obscene gesture. “You know…”
“Not yet.”
Mikayla’s hand stops midair before she can set the wine bottle back on the table. “You haven’t done it yet?”
I shake my head. “We’ve done other things.”
“Dumb,” Mikayla mutters.
“We’re taking it slow.”
“Yeah, ’cause riding him in his truck was super slow,” Sandy says, but she doesn’t look me in the eyes when she speaks.
“I wasn’t myself.”
“Uh-huh,” Sandy mutters.
“I had planned to sleep with him the night Lucas called.”
“God, he’s a cockblock. The man has always had the worst timing, and his streak continues,” Mikayla says before she goes back to sipping her wine.
“You going to drink that?” Sandy points at my glass.
I shake my head. “He ruined everything that night.”
“Well, lucky for you, you’re still alive and can still make it happen,” Sandy says as she reaches for my little bit of undrunk wine. “You could really use it.”
“I’ve been well taken care of.”
Their eyes slide to me.
“Do tell,” Mikayla says with a smirk .
“We want all the details. Please tell me his, you know, is bigger than Lucas’s,” Sandy adds.
“His you know?” Mikayla says into her wineglass. “Are you thirteen?”
Sandy gives Mikayla the middle finger. “Well?”
“Def not like Lucas, and that’s all I’m going to say about it.”
“Straight or crooked?” Mikayla asks.
I stare at her in shock. “Crooked?”
She nods. “They’re not all like spears.”
“I’m…well…uh,” I stutter, at a complete loss.
“Those bent ones can be a hoot,” Sandy says, crooking her pointer finger. “It just hits all the spots.”
Mikayla bumps Sandy’s shoulder with her own. “Same. I love a little hook.”
I have no idea what they’re talking about, but that’s not surprising. I was in a long-term relationship for most of my adult life while they were busy exploring their sexuality with as many men as they could. I’ve clearly missed out on the hook, based on their conversation, because besides being small, Lucas’s penis was also straight like a small hot dog.
“I thought you two did stuff.” Mikayla lifts her hands and bunches her eyebrows together. “What the heck is stuff?”
I shrug. “Stuff.”
Sandy spins her stool top around like we used to do in middle school, almost making me dizzy. “Her stuff is kissing. ”
“You felt it when you rode that jean-clad cock in his truck. You should be able to at least tell the size.”
“More than enough,” I tell her, trying to keep it simple.
Mikayla just stares at me, her lips pursing in annoyance. “Have you at least seen him shirtless?”
I nod. “Better than I could’ve imagined.”
Mikayla sighs as she reaches over, stopping Sandy’s movement, but she keeps her gaze trained on me. “I won’t even ask about his pants because if you can’t tell me anything about his cock, you haven’t seen it even from a distance.”
I busy myself in my work again, not wanting to talk anymore about Brax’s body and my lack of knowledge about every little inch of it. I plan to rectify the situation, begging if I have to, because I am done with my self-imposed dry streak. I chickened out last night, but I won’t make that mistake twice.
“I’m proud of you,” Mikayla says, catching me completely off guard.
I lift my gaze to her, thinking she wasn’t talking to me, but she was. “For?”
“Putting yourself out there again. We forced your hand, but you hopped on and literally rode it.”
Sandy snorts, covering her mouth quickly to hide the noise.
“I hate you both,” I mutter.
Mikayla chuckles. “You love us more than anyone else in the world. ”
“Hardly,” I lie. “You’re like fifth or sixth on the list.”
“Then I know I’m third or fourth. I must be higher than you,” Sandy teases Mikayla. “I’m the nicer one.”
“When are you seeing him again?” Mikayla asks, ignoring Sandy again.
“Tonight,” I tell her. “I’m staying at his place again because his family is having a dinner. It’s something they do every week.”
“Oh my God,” Sandy says, practically squealing with excitement.
“Well, at least you already met them,” Mikayla says.
I shake my head, my stomach already turning at how wrong she is. “No. That was only a few people. This is everyone.”
Sandy’s eyes go wider somehow, and Mikayla claps, showing almost as much excitement as Sandy about the situation.
“Perfect,” Mikayla says. “Big step.”
I’m not sure I’m ready for a bigger step than I’ve already taken, but I don’t have a choice in it now. I am going to put on my big-girl panties and dive right into the madness. This is what people do when they are in relationships. I am in a relationship. I have reminded myself of that fact multiple times today because it still feels so surreal .
“But the distance is going to be a problem,” Mikayla adds.
“It’s the same city,” I tell her.
“With the worst traffic,” she replies.
“We’ll figure it out. It’s not like I have an office job I have to be at early.”
“I see lots of sleepovers in your future,” she says.
I smile because, if things go right, I see them too, and they’re divine.