No need for me to be an asshole.
See? I’m making progress. Adulting, as they say.
“My shift ends at two.” She inches right back to me. Her perfume fills my nose when she presses her soft body against mine. “We could meet up after.”
A week ago, sure. I would have fucked her no problem. We would have had a damn fine time together. But a sassy little ghost rose from my past and haunts me. Ruining me for every other female, because as much as I want to take Daisy up on her offer…
“Nah, Daisy, we can’t.”
Daisy’s crestfallen expression reminds me of a puppy whose family abandoned it at the pound. “Another time?”
I pull her in for a quick hug. “Maybe.”
The Unholy isn’t without our groupies. Foremost, we have hang-arounds. The women who, literally, hang around Sanctum. They’re always up for a good time and eventually move on when they realize we’re a dead end. Most of us aren’t what sane women want in a significant other—with all due respect to Jamie and the other girlfriends and wives. Those women who linger at Sanctum? They’re lost causes, same as the rest of us wretched souls.
Given the Devil’s Den is our second clubhouse of sorts, certain Unholy have become… chummy… with the ladies who work here. Women like Daisy, who I’ve slept with more than a few times. We don’t shit where we eat, though. Even I uphold this golden rule.
Which is a miracle since I usually fuck shit up.
Daisy sulks away, and I see Havoc and Discord watching me.
Okay, they’re notjustwatching.
They’re full-on smirking.
“What’s the matter, Jester? Did your dick crawl up your ass?” Discord teases.
“Need the magic blue pill?” Havoc asks.
I flip them off. “My dick works fine.” Then to Nadia, “A beer, please.” While I wait for my drink, I lift a brow and level a glare at Havoc. “Faith broke me. Now it’s up to her to fix me.”
I can’t be sure, but I think I hear him groan.
Discord flat-out laughs at me.
Ava wants to know who Faith is.
Roger admits he doesn’t know.
“Jester’s ex-girlfriend,” Havoc explains.
“No,” I correct. I offer my gratitude to Nadia when she delivers my beer. I take a long swig of the cold Sam Adams before giving my friends a slow, wicked grin. “She’s my future wife.”
9
Faith
Of all places, Brighton is the answer to the problem of my festering rage. Or at least I hope it is. We’ll see. What I do know is that there’s a certain sense of release that comes from driving at a criminal speed up Interstate 81. Okay, it’s not Brighton that’s the answer. Rather, it’s Kerri, of course. I need a good, old-fashioned girls’ night out with my best friend. Some much-needed best friend therapy.
From how she sounded on the phone when I called to tell her about last night’s debacle, she needs me too. Only thing is, it’s usually one-sided. I unload my bullshit on her. Kerri keeps her problems close to her heart. It stings a bit because sometimes it makes me wonder if it’s a trust issue. But then I remind myself that I’ll eventually pull it out of her. It will just take some time because she hates being a burden. Which is preposterous. We’ve been best friends since the second we met. She’s supposed to bitch and moan to me.
But first I need to be a little selfish and tell her about the other night. How Jester embarrassed me, and how I paid him back by etching a dick into the side of his Wrangler. What does he do about it? Not repair the damage. Nope. Not him. He goes and has someone paint a beautiful frame around it. I’m talking museum-quality.
He’s deliberately provoking me, and that’s why I need to leave town for a minute.
Because I’mthiscloseto killing him for being so damn infuriating.
(But also, funny.)
