15. Ford
FORD
Gotta hand it to her. Cobie kicked ass tonight.
Spoke confidently. Tugged at a few heartstrings.
Emphasized the holiness of her efforts. She’s a Harden, after all.
I’m impressed. Bet Daddy Dearest is, too.
After she finishes auctioning off the last lamb to the slaughter, I stand with Jagger, and we make our way backstage.
One, Cobie’s brochure states all winners need to meet their prize and finalize payment, and two, if I have to sit by my father for another second, I might actually strangle the man.
As we slip backstage, a pretty blonde paws at my arm, stopping my pursuit. “Hey, Ford.”
Jagger moves on in search of Violet, and I fight the urge to flip him the bird.
So much for no man left behind. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but I’m not in the mood.
I’ve seen the blonde a few times at Harden events, but I couldn’t tell you her name even if I had a gun to my head.
Clearly, she thinks she knows me well enough to start a conversation.
Or maybe she feels entitled to my time like most people in Harden Heights.
Neither would surprise me. Besides, it’s what I get for being the friendly one and the face of the Harden Brothers.
Considering the options, I was easily the best choice, even if it’s a bitch at times. Like right now.
Lucky me.
Digging deep, I search for my inner charm and give the girl a smirk that would make most women melt. “Hey, you,” I offer.
She smiles. “I like what you did out there.”
My brows raise. “Did you, now?”
Not what I was expecting, but hey. I’ll take it.
I start to step around her again, but she follows my movements, preventing my escape. “Mm-hmm.” Her straight white teeth dig into her bottom lip. “Taking one for the team and all.”
Not sure I’d spend twelve grand if I was taking one for the team, but there’s no point in saying it out loud, especially to a girl like…
whoever this is. Nah. Girls like the one in front of me are a dime a dozen.
They think copying every other pretty woman on campus will make them stand out.
All it does is turn them into another faceless one-night stand.
Hence, the woman’s inability to grasp the little nugget of truth proving I did not, indeed, take one for the team.
Authenticity. It’s the name of the game. And the furthest thing from the bleached blonde with over-injected lips and caked-on makeup in front of me. And if she can’t see it, why waste my breath trying to convince her otherwise?
Oblivious, she shifts closer, batting her lashes at me. “So, when’s the next Harden Night?”
Seriously?
I glance around the room, not even trying for subtlety. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
Her head bobs ever so slightly. “Oh. Right. I forget.”
Forget that Harden Nights are a hell of a lot like Fight Club? As in, we don’t talk about it?
Come on, blondie. You should know better than this.
“I also forgot if I’m allowed to…” She slips out a folded dollar bill from her cleavage and goes to hand it to me.
Fucking hell, woman.
It’s like she doesn’t know the meaning of keeping shit under wraps.
I grab hold of her hand and spin her around, dipping her body and pulling her up like we’re two lovers dancing instead of practically strangers exchanging cold hard cash in broad daylight, er, stagelight, right under everyone’s noses.
It’s only a matter of time before sports betting is legal in our state, let alone openly traded, but today is not that day.
And even if it was, it’s not like I have a license for this shit.
Every bet is meant to be placed quietly and behind closed doors, or at least with an ounce of subtlety.
This girl, however, clearly hasn’t gotten the memo, and losing a potential new client all because she’s too damn naive for her own good is the last thing I should do.
Especially not in the current climate with Morgan.
When she’s upright again, I lean closer and whisper in her ear, “And what is this for, beautiful?”
She turns her head ever so slightly, letting her lips skate against my cheek before hovering against my earlobe. “My brother says there’s an NHL game tomorrow. Wanted me to place a hundred on the Grizzlies.”
With a slow nod, I murmur, “Any kind of spread?”
“Uh, no?” It comes out as a question. “What does that mean?”
Oh, the trust people have in their bookies.
I could say whatever I want right now. Lie right to the girl’s face, or manipulate her into taking a shit bet.
I won’t. But I could. She’s lucky she came to me instead of Morgan.
He would’ve fucked her over, for sure. Probably literally and figuratively. But I digress.
“Did your brother mention how many points he thinks the Grizzlies will win by or anything like that?” I ask.
“Uh, no?” she repeats with the same heavy dose of confusion. “Shit, am I doing this wrong?”
“Not at all.” I let our cheeks brush, giving any potential outsiders a solid show before pulling back and giving her a smile. “I’ve got you covered.”
Relief spreads over her. “Perfect.”
“So, who won a lovely night with you?” I ask.
I shouldn’t. Truth be told, I don’t give a shit, but my business is already precarious enough as it is.
If she’s coming to me instead of Morgan because of my gleaming personality, I might as well give her a taste, even if it makes me feel a little dirty.
The things I do for money.
“George Manwell,” she answers. “He’s one of my father’s associates and hired me to help his daughter learn how to do a back handspring.”
That’s how I recognize her. She’s on HHU’s cheerleading team. Noted.
“Well, I’m sure you two will have a great time,” I reply.
“Not as much as you and I could have.”
“Of course not.” With a wink, I drop my arm from around her waist and let go of our entwined hands while keeping a firm hold on the money.
“And even though I would love to discuss all the fun we could’ve had, I should probably get going.
People to see. Nights to plan.” I bend closer one more time, whispering, “Bets to take.”
Her tinkling laughter hits like nails on a chalkboard. “I almost forgot how funny you are, Ford.”
Fuck, we’ve actually talked before? Not just passed by in one of our classes or at a party? I must’ve been shit-faced.
Please tell me all we did was talk.
My stomach churns at the thought of touching her waxy lips with mine.
“Well.” She smooths down the starched white fabric along my chest. “I guess I’ll be…impatiently waiting for an invite.” She smiles. “Or, you know, a non-invite.” Super subtle, cheerleader. “See you around, Ford.”
I tack on a fake-as-hell smile. “You definitely will, beautiful.”
The smell of perfume cakes the air as I move further into the backstage area, finding Jagger standing with Violet and June.
Violet’s back is pressed to my brother’s chest, his arms wrapped around her torso, and her hands cupping his forearms. It’d be cute if I weren’t so disgusted. The man is whipped.
June, on the other hand, looks as gorgeous up close as she did on stage. Like a perfect little slice of Quasimodough I’d love to reach out and take a bite of. Bet she’d taste like—
“What took you so long?” Violet asks.
I tear my attention from June, sticking a pin in the fantasy of tasting her, and turn to Violet instead. “Ran into a friend,” I lie.
“We saw,” Violet replies. “She seems…” Her brow quirks. “Nice?”
I glance over my shoulder, curious if the girl in question is still hovering nearby. “Who?”
“The girl,” Violet explains. “Your…friend?”
“Friend?” I repeat, mimicking her tone. “Do I sense a hint of accusation, Ms. Violet?”
Jagger eyes me carefully while bending closer to Violet and dropping his voice low. “I’m thinking it was a business transaction, Little Thief.”
“Oh.” She shoots June, who’s as quiet as a damn mouse, a quick look. “That makes more sense.”
Makes more sense? For who?
Eyeing both women, I challenge, “And why were we confused?”
She tosses June another look, though I can’t help but wonder if it’s because they’re on the same wavelength or so far off, Violet’s debating on whether or not it’s her place to keep talking.
Curious.
June’s lips stay firmly pressed together as she toys with her fingers in front of her, just like she had on stage. She looks around the rest of the area like a celebrity might pop out from behind one of the curtains at any second.
“They’re wondering why you bet twelve grand on June only to walk backstage and talk with someone else.” Jagger leans to one side, eyeing his girlfriend the same way I had. “Am I right, Little Thief?”
“Maybe,” she caves grudgingly.
Seems Violet’s looking out for our girl here.
Interesting.
Question is…do I put them both at ease, or do I add fuel to the fire?
Decisions, decisions.
I must be tired because I choose the former, giving June a rare break while refusing to acknowledge it might have something to do with the nerves bubbling off her as we stand side by side. “Like Jagger said, business never sleeps.” I turn to her. “Although I am flattered you noticed my absence.”
“Just like how Bryan’s noticing June’s,” Violet quips across from me.
She’s a feisty little thing. Knew it from the moment she met my brother and kneed him in the balls. I, however, can’t fuck her into submission like he can. Not that I would want to, but the sass could be turned down a notch, especially when it comes to her sticking her nose in my business.
Oh, we’re really going to go there, Violet? Fine.
Folding my arms, I cock my head. “If my winning bothered Bryan so much, he could’ve always countered my bid.”
“Not everyone has thousands of dollars lying around,” Jagger interjects.