Chapter 2
EVERLEE - DON’T BE A brIDEZILLA OR A CUNT BAG
We’re walking out of the building a few minutes later, and I recognize the four-door blue sedan parked on the curb. When I crawl into the back seat, Betty turns around to look at us with a shit-eating-grin.
“So you got her to come?” Betty smiles.
“Betty, that’s a personal question,” Lizzy teases, handing her ten bucks.
Confused, I glance at Lizzy, trying to figure out what she’s up to. She said a big tip, so I was expecting over ten dollars.
“I won’t take your money, priss-pot.” Betty bats Lizzy’s hand away before she pulls onto the road.
“Betty. A bet is a bet, and I lost,” Lizzy insists, waving the ten dollars in the front.
“Oh, fine!” Betty huffs, grabbing the dollar bill when we get to the stoplight. She slams it on the hundred-dollar bill on the dash, which I assume is the tip Lizzy was talking about.
“How are you doing, darling?” Betty asks, looking at me in her rearview mirror.
“I’m good.”
“She’s not. She was masturbating in her living room when I got there.”
“Fuck, Lizzy!” I smack her arm.
“What? Betty’s part of the team.”
“What team?”
“Team Everlee.”
“I don’t have a team.”
Lizzy laughs. “Oh, darling.”
“Had I known you two were going to team up against me, I would’ve never connected you.”
“I thought that’s how you liked it…” Lizzy pumps her eyebrows, and it takes everything inside of me not to punch her in the tit.
Betty laughs, dragging my attention away. “Oh, hush now, Everlee. Lizzy’s been keepin’ me busy.” She shifts her gaze to Lizzy, eyebrows up. “So, did Tony win that bid?”
“He did.” Lizzy bounces up and down in her seat.
“That’s great to hear. I know he was really nervous about it falling through at the end.”
“It was touch and go there for a bit. They made some last-minute changes, but everything worked out.”
“So good to hear! Is he still taking you to Bo La Vie to celebrate?”
Lizzy shoots me a nervous look, so I raise my eyebrows. If we’re about to go to their club, she can’t feel weird talking about their restaurant in front of me. It’s been months and I’m an adult. We can have conversations about them without it getting weird.
“He is. We’re going Saturday night. They have a special Easter menu.”
An Easter menu? I sigh, remembering my night with Lizzy at Bo’s. It’s Emmett’s baby he recently opened up, and the food is divine. I miss it a lot, and even though Emmett said I have a standing reservation every Monday at eight, I haven’t gone.
I can’t.
They’ll be sitting at their table above having their weekly business meeting and I will be what? Sitting at a table by myself.
My stomach tightens into knots the closer we get to Vixen.
I thought I was ready to see them, but I don’t know.
It’s been two months, and now that’s not feeling long enough.
I mean, we weren’t together for that long, but the sex.
God, the sex. My stomach clenches just thinking about it. And the way they made me feel...
I let myself get caught up in their world, and I loved it. They made me feel alive. Wanted. Confident. All the things I needed to help me get back to who I was after dickface. I hoped I’d have been able to go out after them, but every time I tried, I couldn’t do it.
“Here we are, girls,” Betty whispers as if she can feel the hesitation pulsing off me. Several other rideshares are dropping people off, so she pulls further down the curb, closer to the road that leads to the back of the club.
Curiosity getting the better of me and perhaps a hidden masochistic kink, I look down the dimly lit alleyway.
Callum’s black Audi is parked beside the door, with Brady standing beside the car.
My stomach twists into a knot as my pulse races.
He looks up at me and, after a second, waves, so I wave back.
Shit.
A thin layer of sweat flashes across my skin, and suddenly the cool air feels not cold enough.
I’m going to see him tonight. The frantic, erratic pounding of my heart feels like a desperate, trapped animal clawing its way out.
“Lizzy,” I choke out, a strangled sound escaping as my vocal cords seize, leaving me utterly voiceless.
She looks at me, and her smile drops as she sees the terror on my face.
Gone is the loud, relentless Lizzy who drags you to the edge of sanity, and in her place is the gentle, grounding, and disarmingly caring version.
“You got this, and if you don’t, we’ll leave,” she says, interlacing her fingers in mine.
I nod and whisper, “Okay.” I can go in there and see three, maybe four, deliciously hot men I let sexually ravage and delight me. Men who I can’t get off my mind, even though it’s been months. And who I let myself get attached to. I can do this.
“Let’s go find you a cock to ride, because I know you didn’t finish earlier.”
Whelp seems like she’s shoved the nice one back into its little pocket. “You’re like the sex whisperer.”
She throws her head back, laughing as we walk down the very long line of people waiting to get in. “It was nicer when you were fucking them. At least we didn’t have to wait in this line.”
“Truth.”
We take our spot at the end, which is about fifty, maybe sixty people from the door, and wait, pressing up against the brick wall. An icy breeze whips by us, sending a shiver down my spine and peppering my arm with goosebumps.
“I’m glad their business is doing so well,” I say, looking down the long line before turning to see a large group of about twenty people walking up behind us.
It looks like a bachelorette party because all the girls are wearing pink corsets except for the one rambling in the middle, wearing a white corset with a crown on her head.
“OMG, this line is so long, you guys,” the assumed bride-to-be whines, coming to a stop behind us. “You should have called and told them we were coming. Gotten us VIP access or something.”
One girl clasps her hands together and offers a weary smile. “We tried. When we called, they said their VIP section was already booked for the night.”
The bride-to-be’s nose wrinkles on her face like she’s just smelled a field of cow shit. “On a Thursday before Easter Sunday? Who would be here then?” she whines again, grating on my nerves.
Lizzy’s eyes are enormous, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. Who would be here? She is here! She is freaking right here on a Thursday before Easter Sunday!
The girl shuffles behind me, looking over my shoulder. “Ugh, this line is not moving.”
“You’re going to love it!” the girl who spoke earlier offers with a slight shake in her voice.
“I hope so. If not, you’re no longer my maid of honor.” I’d like to think she is kidding, but the tone in her voice and the gasp from her friend tell me she’s serious.
I sign to Lizzy. If you act like that, I will dump your ass.
So no Bridezilla?
Hell to the no.
Lizzy laughs.
“Oh girls, look, they’re deaf,” she says as if we’re some attraction at the zoo.
Rage boils under my skin listening to her talk, and I have to fight every urge to punch her in the face.
She mumbles something about my shoes not looking right with my outfit and how she would have gone with a different heel and then mentions something about my age.
My eyes snap open in surprise, and I draw a deep, shaky breath, trying to soothe the tingling sensation on my knuckles.
Lizzy grabs my hand for good measure, but I’m not sure if it’s to calm me or to prevent me from punching the bridezella behind us.
She’s always been able to read me like an open book.
“Gross. Are they together?” she sighs. “Is this a gay bar?”
Trying to hold my words in, I close my eyes and bite my bottom lip.
“No. No. God, no. We would never,” the maid of honor rushes out.
The bride-to-be just moans, then looks over my shoulder again. “Oh good. Someone from the club is coming this way. Maybe they’ll let us in because I’m getting married,” she peeps with a grating cheerfulness.
“You think they’ll let us all in?” another girl asks.
“I don’t know!” Bridezilla snaps back.
Seriously, why do these girls stay around her? She’s horrible.
As I glance down the sidewalk, my eyes lock onto a man dressed entirely in black, steadily making his way towards us. At first, when she mentioned someone from the club, my heart leapt, thinking it was Callum. But I don’t recognize this man.
The bride-to-be lets out a squeal behind me, and I can tell from the clicks of her heels she’s bouncing up and down. “Girls, were you tricking me? He’s coming over here. He’s looking right at me.”
The maid of honor nervously laughs, and I feel bad for her.
The man stops beside us. “Everlee?”
Shocked, my eyes flitter to his face. “Yes?”
“Can you and your friend come with me?”
I mutter something, so Lizzy answers for us. “Yes. Yes, we can.”
We step out of line and before we walk away, the bride-to-be calls out, “What about me? I’m getting married Saturday!”
The man in black turns to look at her and simply answers, “No.”
“But,” she stomps her foot, mumbling something about us.
Losing what little patience I have, I turn to look at her.
“Ev, don’t,” Lizzy pleads, grabbing for my arm.
“I’m good,” I say before turning to look at the Bridezilla. “I feel bad for the man you’re marrying. He’s going to be miserable because you are miserable.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I only know the five minutes of you I’ve had to endure, and I can’t imagine why these girls hang around you.
You are a self-centered cunt bag and your maid of honor, whoever she is, deserves someone who actually appreciates her.
And for the record, we aren’t deaf. Surprise.
Nor are we a couple, although if we were, I’d be one lucky girl.
She was holding my hand, so I didn’t turn around and punch you in the face for saying stupid shit. ”
She gasps, and I turn to walk away.
The man in black looks at me with a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you ready?”
“Now I am.”
We get to the door, and the bouncer looks at us, then unhooks the rope.
“Why did you get us?” Lizzy asks.
“Callum heard you were here and didn’t want you both waiting outside.”
My stomach flips and my pulse quickens. Suddenly, my lips are drier than the Sahara Desert, so I lick them, expecting to see him waiting for us when we walk in, but he’s not there.
“You two have a good night.” The man walks away, leaving Lizzy and me standing in the hall. Lizzy looks ready to party, and I feel slightly dumbfounded and let down.
“Okay, then,” she says, looking around. “Bar or dance floor?”
“Bar.”