TWO
Billie
I AM SO freakin’ stoked to be back in Southie—my home—about to be surrounded by my found family.
The guys are on the third floor getting settled and freshening up after the car ride, hopefully giving me enough time to get everything sorted out. I scurry down the stairs with my makeup box in hand, the wooden steps creaking their displeasure like the cranky bitches they’ve always been, never staying quiet, even when asked nicely, as someone sneaked their way up them hours past curfew.
Nervous energy knots and twists in my stomach with uncertainty of how this night will go. How do I ensure I focus my energy and time with Jimmy and Micky where it’s needed, making certain my mates are comfortable enough that there’s no need for me to worry about them? I enter the kitchen to find Marcus already in there, pulling some premade subs out of the fridge. Sitting down at the round wooden kitchen table, I set up my little portable mirror and open my makeup box, pulling out what I need for tonight. My socked feet find their familiar home on two of the carved wooden talons that extend out of the central base of the table.
“Oh shit.” Marcus snorts a short laugh, sitting down across from me and pointing a finger at my setup. “That’s right, you’ve gotta put on makeup don’t ya!”
I blow off the excess bronzer from my brush and glare at him. “Har, har, ya know I do.” Brushing the bronzer on my nose, cheeks, and temples, I gripe, “How was I supposed to know when I was fourteen and trying to look older that I’d have to do this for every fight?”
Marcus slides a plate with two halves of a turkey-and-cheese sub in front of me. He arches a brow. “You gotta eat something, Billie. You know no matter how this goes, you’ll need some food in your stomach for afterward.”
Putting down the eyeshadow I just dug out from my kit, thankful that at fourteen I didn’t go crazy with colors, I grab one of the sub halves. I meet Marcus’s awaiting stare and take a shark bite. I drawl around my food, “So, any suggestions on what the guys should do before the fight?”
Seeing that I’m eating and not being difficult about following orders, Marcus picks up his own sub—roast beef, I think—and points it at me, grinning. “You haven’t figured out a plan, Demon?” Then opens his mouth, and half the sub disappears in one bite.
“Pipes, come on, man. Ya know plans happen in the moment with me,” I say, closing up the eye shadow and switching it out for mascara. Wiping the excess off the wire brush, I bend over the mirror and apply the black goo with raised brows. “I think about them, talk about them, but never make them.”
He swallows down some seltzer and suggests, “They can come with us, hang out with Jake and me, or come after.”
I take another bite, groaning because those were the two options I had thought of. “Which do you think will be best?”
He’s about to answer when his gaze lifts, focusing behind me. A smile spreads over his face, and he raises his hands above his head, clapping in earnest. I turn around to find Ethan, Xander, and Jax all outfitted in green—GREEN O’Sullivan’s hoodies. My jaw drops.
Whirling my head back around to Marcus, I bark out, “Are you serious!” pointing an accusatory finger back to my mates while still staring at Marcus. “We had to read Og Mandino for ten months—TEN MONTHS! —before we were allowed to have any ORIGINAL Den swag!”
“ The Greatest Salesman in the World ,” Ethan comments from behind Jax.
Spinning my head back around, my brows lift in surprise. “Yeah, how’d you know? Have you read it?”
Jax bends around me to grab two of the half subs and groans while scooching past me to take the seat against the wall. “The book was on top of the sweatshirts,” he grumbles, not looking happy at all with downcast eyes and turned-down lips.
Ethan quirks a brow. “The book is thin. Why would it take ten months?”
Marcus and I share a look across the table, our eyes twinkling with amusement before both of us just start cracking up. “You’ll find out in scroll one.” I cackle.
Xander places his hand on the back of my chair and picks up subs and napkins for him and Ethan. Gazing at me, he tilts his head to the side in curiosity. “What do you mean by original swag ?” he queries, handing Ethan two half subs while also motioning for him to take the last empty chair.
Half turning around to Xander, who’s leaning against the post behind me that frames the small countertop between the kitchen and the living room, I state, “We and the rest of The Den, with the exception of Jimmy and Micky, had to read that book in order to get any original swag.” Glancing over at Marcus, I lift my chin and tilt my head at him, hoping for some support. He just shrugs a massive shoulder as if it doesn’t really matter and finishes off one of his sandwiches. Yeah, it may not have been hard for him. Marcus had no problem reading the book as specified. I, on the other hand, had to set reminders, lasso Enzo into it, and negotiate terms with Micky.
“There’s something special about the green?” Ethan assumes, reaching past me to hand a seltzer to Xander before cracking open his own.
I swallow the piece of sandwich in my mouth and look at the three of them, nodding. “It’s the original colors. Micky now only offers them to certain people, and reading the book is one of the conditions.” Xander’s gaze locks on Ethan and Jax until the three of them connect. In eerily synchronized movements, they put their food down and take off their sweatshirts, revealing black O’Sullivan’s T-shirts underneath.
I look at Xander expectantly while his eyes follow his index finger trailing down one of my twin French braids (fight night, man) before twirling the end of it. Meeting my awaiting gaze, he says, “You said traditions are important, and this is a title fight for Jimmy.” Releasing my braid, he reaches for his sub while his other hand brushes over my shoulder to land around my nape. “We’ll—” He pauses and sets his focus on Jax.
Jax dramatically exhales. “X, you know I will. I just wanted to groan about it.”
Xander smirks and brings his eyes back to me. “We’ll read the book and earn the sweatshirt like everyone else.” Marcus hums in approval, and I send a little warmth through the bonds.
“Demon,” Marcus grunts. “Hurry up with the makeup. We’ve only got about fifteen minutes before we’ve gotta leave, and”—he points to my half-eaten sandwich— “you’ve gotta eat that whole sandwich. We’re not repeating last year.”
My face pinkens, and I take a huge bite while nodding. I don’t want to repeat last year either. Jax gives me a little nudge. I turn to him, with eyeliner in my hand. “Are you putting makeup on?”
Marcus chuckles, and I roll my eyes, taking a large swig of seltzer and swallowing. “Yeah, tradition is important.” Then I start to apply the liner.
Marcus inhales sharply, eyes locked on mine. He shouts, “DEMON, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOUR EYE?”
All of a sudden, I’m famished. Taking a huge bite of my sandwich, I mumble, hopefully incoherently, “Earth-shattering orgasm.” No need for blush—my cheeks are full-on rosy now.