Chapter 19 #2
Jonesy materializes at our table and spins Liv’s chair around, resting his hand on the back so he can wrap his leg around her to shake it for her up close
“You know,” I say to Wyatt, “for somebody who retired from dancing a year ago, he’s still got it.”
My man—my boyfriend? The love of my life?
We should probably define the actual terms of our relationship at some point—just shakes his head.
“You try to raise them right, you know?” But he’s laughing as he says it, and I know this is another instance of him loving his family out loud, regardless of their quirks, conflicts, or rippling ass muscles.
His lightness falls away when Deke spots me and grooves his way across the floor.
“CJ!” he calls happily. “Merry Christmas!”
“Back atcha, Diesel! Got anything good in your sleigh tonight?”
He winks and gets ready to drop it like it’s hot, up close and personal, but Wyatt turns the full force of his glare onto the poor beefcake.
“Keep it moving,” he growls. “The only person dancing for my girlfriend tonight is me.”
Deke slaps a beefy hand over his heart, beaming at us both. “Aww, I didn’t know! That’s so great, you two. Congrats.”
I barely hear him. Electricity rolls through my body at Wyatt’s unapologetic claiming of me.
“Relationship fucking defined, huh?” I say.
He looks at me incredulously. “I thought it was obvious.”
I bite my lip around a smile. “Okay. Good.”
Once I’m able to tear my eyes away from Wyatt—my boyfriend—I glimpse the woman who was filming the jugglers earlier in the night. She’s got her phone out again, recording away with glee. I’m about to point her out to Wyatt when he draws my attention instead to Howard’s table.
“Uh-oh,” he murmurs.
The older white couple is sitting stone-faced, both of them with their arms crossed, while the rest of the table looks at the stripper hijinks with various degrees of confusion, disapproval, and bemusement. But it’s Howard himself who’s making moves.
Tossing his napkin onto the table, he stalks to the AV booth and starts to berate Patty. We’re too far away to hear what he’s saying, but his body language is pissed. Moments later, the bass-heavy music cuts off abruptly, leaving the room silent and the dancers slowing to a stop where they stand.
With another impatient gesture at the Oakwood worker, Howard lifts his lapel and bends his head so he’s practically eating the mic that’s still attached to him after the wild goose chase.
At first, we don’t hear anything, but when Patty turns a knob to the right of the board, Howard’s forced laugh booms overhead.
“Ha! A-ha ha, folks! Tonight’s entertainment’s gotten a little wild, hasn’t it?
But, uh, that’s what we do at Sounder Benefits Management.
We innovate.” He shoots a kiss-assy glance at the VIP table, all the while keeping his lips uncomfortably close to the mic.
“But thisth is a good time to take a pause, refresh our drinks, and enjoy some dessert before the big finale.”
I can actually see when it dawns on him that he’s got the whole room’s attention and decides to milk it.
“While I’ve got you folks, I just want to say from the bottom of my heart”—he slaps his hand to his chest, his wedding ring slapping against the lav mic with an uncomfortably loud crack—“thank you all for being here to celebrate this holiday stheason with us. Tonight hasth been a dream come true and a labor of love, from me to you.”
His face is shiny under the chandeliers, the product of sweating his way through unpleasantly hot course after unpleasantly hot course, and his nose is red and runny, turning his voice even more nasal than usual.
He’s also struggling to enunciate some of his words; his s’s and t’s and r’s are coming out muddy and garbled.
To guests who don’t know what he’s gone through tonight, he might sound a little tipsy, but I’m guessing he’s actually dealing with a tongue that’s swollen from too much capsaicin.
Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
“As the architect of tonight’s event, I’m beyond moved that you’re here sharing it with me.” His smile’s on the manic side, but he does think to add, “Oh, and the rest of the Sounder family. Enjoy your dethert, folks.“
With another phony smile that the investors may or may not be buying, Howard walks away, leaving Patty scrambling to cut the mic. Then he turns and walks straight toward our table.
“Shit,” Darby says. “He’s onto us.”
Gabe wraps an arm around her shoulder. “It’s fine, baby.” To the rest of us, he says, “My wife wasn’t cut out for a life of crime.”
Sebastian grabs Birdy’s hand. “Is it time to pull the cord?”
“No.” Wyatt’s voice is firm. “Nobody’s putting on a parachute and bailing yet.”
“Everybody just be cool,” I add, although my heart’s rattling in my chest as Howard comes to a stop in front of us.
I was invited tonight along with every other member of the Beaucoeur Chamber of Commerce, but what if he sees me and starts wondering about his run of bad luck at this cursed party?
What if he figures out just how badly Wyatt’s fucked with his plans? What if—
“You.” Howard snaps his fingers at Wyatt. “Come with me.”