Chapter 7
Gabe
The moment we enter the ballroom, Joss tenses, and I don’t like it.
I mean, I love the way she holds my arm. I want to feel her arms around me as we snuggle under a blanket in front of the TV as much as I want those perfectly manicured nails digging into my bare arms as she screams my name, but I don’t want her to feel scared of a social event.
I want her to feel safe.
I find Merrick in the crowd. I’ll put my arm around Joss and give her the opportunity to join the conversation with Merrick and me but not force it. I’ll make her comfortable. Merrick is one of my closest friends on the team, along with Blaise, Evan Allore, and Dom Morales. I’d rather spend the night introducing her to my friends than forcing her to deal with strangers who are being weird with her.
Some people are shooting us seriously evil eyes, and I just don’t get it. I don’t care to, either. Joss is great.
Merrick is with his on-again, off-again girlfriend Selene. Last I heard, he hated her. Based on their body language, that’s still true. Selene’s a bitch, so it’s understandable, just like Merrick is sadistic with a sprinkling of masochism, so it makes sense for him to fly someone he hates into town just to do this thing.
Oh, and I’ll have to listen to them hate-fuck tonight before he sends her packing tomorrow. Not even because the walls are thin between our bedrooms. They’re probably going to do it in the kitchen or the living room or the bar, and they’re going to be stupidly loud about it. I don’t know why he’s like this, but it’s exhausting.
I’m concerned I shouldn’t be introducing Joss to Merrick while Selene’s here, but then Joss responds to Selene’s cultivated disdain with her bright, unassuming smile. She even loosens her grip on my arm, giving me the opportunity to drop my hand to the small of her back. She blows right past the roll of Selene’s eyes when she says, “Oh my gosh, I know you! You’re the, oh gosh, the lady with the thing, the big ball thing!”
Selene’s groan would make me think she was furious with Joss if I didn’t know how much she loves being recognized and has even staged this kind of encounter in the past. “It’s a Scandinavian mercury detoxifier,” she says in her most bored voice.
It’s not Scandinavian or mercury, and the sound it makes when you touch it isn’t the toxins getting drawn out of your bloodstream; it’s a texture on the surface. She’s sold thousands of the stupid things in her luxury holistic spa shop, and she knows it’s all a scam.
“Right, yeah, a Scandinavian mercury detoxifier.” Joss gives her the biggest doe eyes, so big I’m thinking she might be baiting Selene and says, “I’ve always wondered how you made the mercury solid like that. And how do you prevent mercury poisoning? Like, it’s just so smart.”
Selene huffs and says, “It’s an alloy,” as she turns to Merrick, giving Joss the literal cold shoulder. “Babe, can you—”
“What’s an alloy?” Joss asks as Merrick says, “I vomit-burped when you called me babe.”
This is possibly the greatest thing I have ever seen. Selene, with her ill-fitting, inappropriately sheer dress that barely covers her panties, her hair pulled back so tightly it’s doubling as a facelift and her contouring makeup that makes her nose look like the back of a skunk from the side, is getting trounced by Joss. I don’t know how Joss is so good at destroying mean girls, but it’s hilarious.
Selene’s stuck, and when she’s stuck, she lashes out at the person who looks the weakest. She’s also sort of dumb about it, usually going after Blaise when, admittedly, I’m the one who lacks the snappy comebacks. She fails again now, going for Joss. “Who even are you, and why are you talking to me right now?”
“Oh, I’m Joss Page. I’m a quiltfluencer.”
She says it all with a happy bob of the head, like it’s the most normal thing in the world and she’s genuinely excited to talk to Selene. But as she says it, a couple of older, sour-faced ladies pass behind me, and one of them says, “She’s still Jocelyn Edgars,” to her companion just loudly enough that I can hear it, too.
Joss’s hand clenches, and if she was going to say anything else, it’s cut off, giving Selene the chance to dig in with, “That’s not even a thing.”
“Not really. You’re right. I’ve only got four hundred thousand followers, and I think I’m at three thousand paid subscriptions. It’s nothing, really.”
If Selene was wearing less make-up, I’m sure I’d see her pale at that. She’s got more followers for sure, but followers are easy. It’s a click of a button, no financial burden. Three thousand paid subscriptions means a minimum $15,000 monthly, less the processing fees, for Joss. I paid $300 for a full year of her highest tier, and she has plenty of others at that price point. She’s making well into the six figures from that alone.
I know for a fact that Selene isn’t doing that well. She sells nudes and private cam time to make ends meet. Yeah, she looks like money, but most of it is gifts and product endorsements.
Whatever she’s about to say, Merrick cuts her off by pounding the rest of his beer, turning to her, and belching obnoxiously in her face. “I need another drink, let’s do this.” He even goes as far as to slap her ass to get her moving before he nods to Joss. “We’ll talk later.”
Joss stands there frozen for several seconds before saying, “I don’t think I like Merrick.”
“He grows on you.”
“So does fungus.”
I scan the crowd for other people to introduce her to, landing on the Allores. They’re a younger couple, Evan having been drafted by the Jugs straight out of college last year, but Keira’s got a good head on her shoulders. Strangely, though, when Keira spots us approaching, she grabs him by the arm and drags him straight out of the ballroom.
Huh.
I shrug it aside and find Blaise and Candy, who’s definitely a stripper but is also nice and happy to meet Joss. Joss, in turn, is really excited when Candy says her mom is a subscriber.
“Oh? What’s her name?” Joss asks.
“Oh, I can’t imagine you know her. I don’t think she talks or anything. Lisbet Rosser?”
Joss gasps. “What are you talking about, I love Lisbet! Oh my gosh, that means you’re, oh god, lemme think. You’re Tara? The radiologist?”
Candy — or Tara — is shocked and delighted. “I am! I am a radiologist!”
“Really?” Blaise asks, as surprised as I am. I guess we both thought she was a stripper.
She gives him a little shove. “I do exist outside of Red Ripple. I told you I was there to pay off student loans. The Firebugs aren’t just a bunch of sluts.”
“What’s a Firebug?” Joss asks way too gleefully for my comfort. I don’t need her getting sucked into that circle. By all accounts, Blaise is a better catch than I am. I would never tell Joss she can’t be friends with his fangirls, but I really don’t want her head getting filled with all the reasons she should ditch me for him.
“It’s this asshole’s fan club,” Tara says with a jab of her thumb at Blaise. “You know, ‘cause his name is Blaise? Like,blaze? I don’t know why we do it. He’s such a prick to us. He’s lucky he’s so good in bed. Are you one of Gabriel’s Angels?”
Joss drops her jaw in exaggerated shock as she tugs on my sleeve. “Do you have a fan club, too?”
I shift uncomfortably. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about me. “I don’t have sex with any of them.”
“He’s just in it for the cookies,” Blaise jokes, using his left hand to smack my gut.
Perfect. Didn’t want her to get the right idea about me either. Thanks, Blaise.
Tara shoots eyeball daggers at Blaise. At least she’s got my back. “Did you really make that quilt, Joss? Are you selling the pattern?”
I can see from here that the quilt is a long, skinny design with the Jugs wheel and roses logo. Now that I’ve found someone for Joss to talk to — and ignore the weird glances she’s been getting — I take the opportunity to get a closer look at it, offering to get a plate of snacks for everyone if Blaise is good to watch Joss. He shoos me off with a request for a tray of fig pockets.
An actual tray. Like straight off the table.
I’m not doing that. That will absolutely get me in trouble.
The quilted Jugs logo is, as expected, incredible. From a distance, it looked like the team colors of ruby and saffron, lit with a spotlight to give it depth, but there aren’t extra lights on it. Joss has mastered creating shadows and texture out of solid fabrics.An even closer inspection reveals that it’s been quilted on one of those giant machines — longarms, I know they’re called now — with a pattern of vines and roses that Joss would have had to trace by hand instead of leaving to the computer to guide it through the machine.
On the bidding app, it’s described as a family stadium throw, with the thought that up to four fans can warm up under it during the colder games. It’s a nice thought, but I’m thinking it would be even better on the sidelines for some of us to huddle under in Buffalo in December, so I drop a bid of $5,000. The current price jumps from $2,400 to $5,100, which means at least one other person is recognizing how goddamn incredible this thing is.
It takes a bid of $7,100 for me to take the top position. I set a timer to check on it in an hour and head toward the hors d’oeuvres, but I’m intercepted by Emily Hess.
Obviously, I’m not a fan of interceptions.
“What is Jocelyn Page doing here?”
I swear the tone comes right from that speak-to-the-manager haircut, but I straighten myself up so I can look as down on Emily as much as I can. “You told me to get a date, so I got a date. In fact, you told me to get a date and then sent me straight to Joss. So if anything, you told me to ask Joss to be my date.”
“I told you to make sure she was alive, not to date her.”
“You said it wasn’t a proof-of-life check! I’m not dating her. Yet. But I’m working on it.”
Emily covers her face, no doubt smudging her makeup, but honestly? It had that aging-schoolteacher-who’s-trying-too-hard look to it, so it’s no tragedy. “No, you can’t date her. Seriously, Gabe. You can’t. And she can’t be here.”
“Why, because she’s the hired help?” I fire back, recalling how Joss said vendors aren’t invited to events. “Well, news flash, the entire team is hired help. The only difference is we were forced to be here. Did you see how much that quilt is going for now? My photo ops were fifty a pop. She’s going to make more than half the team combined.”
Emily’s shoulders sag. If she wasn’t trying to kick Joss out for the stupidest reason ever, I’d say she actually felt bad. “Joss is a really nice woman. I want the best for her. But she’s not going to have that here.”
“Why not? You’re being ridiculous.”
“You don’t know the story, Gabe. Wilmington is a big place, but it’s still got small-town issues. They’re never going to forget her husband.”
“The ex? From the sounds of it, she hates the guy, too. That’s why she’s divorced.”
“Not divorced. Widowed. He was . . . a very bad man. And I promise you, I don’t think she did anything wrong. Most people don’t. But there are enough people who do—”
She suddenly cuts herself off, and if I thought she might have been feeling bad before, I can definitely tell she’s feeling bad now when she gasps and covers her mouth as her gaze goes past me.
A hand lands on the back of my arm. I already know it’s Joss before she says, “I’m not feeling well, but you should stay. I’ll call for a ride.”
I don’t need to look at her to hear how upset she is. It took me all of ten seconds in her shop to imagine us on a giant sofa in oversized sweaters with three kids and two dogs cuddling around us while we watch game reels and sip cocoa. I’m not going to drop that because she was once married to a criminal. We all make bad choices. So I don’t get upset, I get pissed.
Emily stiffens up. Her lips purse into a scowl. The gleam in her eye tells me that any compassion she might have felt died with the grip I put on Joss’s waist. “You understand it’s nothing personal.”
Incredibly, Joss nods. Even smiles apologetically. “Of course. I hope the quilt does well.”
Absolutely not. This isn’t happening. Joss is mine. Where I go, she’s going. No one’s going to get me without her, and Joss needs to know right now that she is my utmost concern.
I nearly open the app to retract my bid so it doesn’t do well, because Emily doesn’t deserve that victory, butI can’t ruin charity.
I can ruin a charity event.
I move my hand from Joss’s bicep to her waist, shoot one more pointed glare at Emily, and turn away. I head toward Merrick, who’s dicking around on his phone to piss Selene off. Even better, there’s a door not far behind him marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
When Merrick sees me approaching, I mouth,“Barbecue Express,”at him.
Several other teammates catch it and casually grab their dates, easing their way toward the wall as though they’re concerned a grenade might be pitched into the crowd.
Merrick grabs Selene’s shoulder to pull her from her conversation with the team owner’s daughter to scream, “When were you going to tell me about the video you’re selling of getting fucked in the ass by Darren Whiting and Corey Devine at the same time and then showing off your stretched asshole to the world?”
Well, shit. I have no idea if that’s a real video or not, but I asked him to ruin the event, and he delivered. Gasps ripple across the crowd. Everyone’s repeating it to everyone else, spreading it like wildfire, giving me the opportunity to lead Joss toward that Employees Only door without anyone noticing.