Reluctantly, Connor settles back on the chair, his disgust a living entity simmering between us. “You heard what that fucker did to Mike?”
I remove my hand and glance at Kerri, who is deep in conversation with Kyle. “Kerri told me on the way here.”
“That asshole busted Mike’s jaw. His dad is pissed.” Almost as if subconsciously, Connor rubs his hand along his chin. “Daniel threatened to burn Mayhem to the ground.”
Oh, God.
Thankfully, I haven’t been on the receiving end of Daniel Davenport’s temper, but it’s legendary. Even after our little… confrontation… he was nothing but nice to me. I, of course, was a raging bitch, as was my right after what he did. And although Daniel is no match for the Unholy, he’s powerful enough to bring a reckoning to Mayhem.
“What stopped him?” I try to sound nonchalant, but I’m far from casual.
Connor grabs his glass and downs whatever fancy IPA beer he’s drinking. “You think he’s going to start a war with agangover his son? Get real, Faith. That thug could have dragged Mike through the streets, and Davenport wouldn’t do a damn thing to avenge him. He just spit out empty threats to make Mike feel good. Truth is, at the end of the day, he’d never risk the damage it would do to Davenport Trading.”
…and that’s precisely why I had leverage when Daniel sexually assaulted me.
One tiny whiff of scandal that might have tarnished his immaculate reputation allowed me to walk away with an impressive severance package and a sterling referral.
“Quick question…” The server comes, and I let my sentence trail off as he goes around our table to take everyone’s food order. Since Kerri and I are latecomers, we also order our drinks. When the server is gone, I grab Connor’s attention again, although he doesn’t seem pleased to talk to me. Oh friggin’ well. “What can you tell me about onyx?”
Best to rip the Band-Aid right off.
“What the hell, Faith?” His eyebrows crash together, and his gaze darts around the table. “Why are you asking me? I don’t do that shit.”
“No need to get dramatic.” I accept his denial with a roll of my eyes. “A friend of mine tried it. Now I’m curious, that’s all.”
He gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “Parker did it once. That was enough. He said never again.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes, that bad.” He nods absently before focusing his attention on the other conversations happening around the table. Or at least pretending to, because something about how he’s ignoring me seems forced.
I chalk it up to him being pissed at what Jester did to his face and Mike’s jaw. What a complete waste of time. I sit here, alone, despite being surrounded by a group of people.
Awesome.
With everyone’s attention elsewhere, I slip my phone out of my bag, check my BG, and do a carb count for the food I ordered. A shot of insulin comes next, and when I look up after I’m done, I notice Kerri watching me like a mother hen. I give her a thumbs-up and a smile. Then I glance at Connor, who is doing a marvelous job of pretending I don’t exist. To kill time, I tap the message app and send a text to Jester.
Me: I did a thing and it’s a dead end.
He’ll understand. He also surprises me by replying within seconds.
Jester: Thanx. Where r u
Me: Corner of None of Your Business Street and It’s Done Now Leave Me Alone Lane.
I toss the phone and diabetes supplies in my bag and sling it over the back of the chair, satisfaction at my epic reply coursing through my veins. Because I’m petty, and sometimes, life is about winning small victories.
Nor do I have remorse for carving a giant dick in Jester’s paint.
The man deserved it for acting like, well…a giant dick.
As the evening drones on and the food comes, I drift in and out of the discussion. But honestly, I don’t care who Talia is dating or that Beverly is leaving for France next week. Nor do I give one single flying shit that Paul (who is a whole adult) is “allowed” more responsibilities at his daddy’s company. I’m happy for Rebecca, though. She’s been waiting for Grayson to propose marriage for ages, and her engagement ring is gorgeous.
Fittingly, these people are no more interested in me than I am in them, so we’re even. The only thing they care about is the lewd aspects of Mayhem. They try to draw me into the conversation by asking me questions about the red-light district. I can be an asshole sometimes. Like now. So, I embellish a bit and make it out to be so much worse than what it’s really like. I mean, if they’re so curious, it’s only an hour’s drive. They can go see it for themselves.
I will be forever grateful to the universe when dinner finally ends, and the check arrives. After I toss in some money, I make my way around the table to say my goodbyes with the intention of never coming back. Seriously. Sitting here, feeling like an outcast yet again, I concluded that it was the last time. I don’t tell this to Kerri, but once we’re back to her house, I do make her promise me that she’ll visit Mayhem as soon as she’s able. I know she works like a billion hours a week at her father’s firm, but even she needs to take a break once in a while.
The drive back to Mayhem seems longer than an hour. Longer than an eternity, and when I catch sight of the welcome sign—actually, theunwelcome sign—I heave out a weary sigh. No one painted over theunsomeone added to thewelcomeon the sign at the edge of town on Route 191. Ironically, although Mayhem thrives on tourism, the town—and the Unholy in particular—are suspicious of strangers.
