I stare at her in disbelief. “Jesus.”
“He’s not here, but we are. Confess.” Mikayla gives me a pointed glare. “Now.”
I sigh, leaving the wine where Sandy put it. Ispend the next ten minutes telling the entire story again to Sandy, while Mikayla gives additional commentary like she’s a background narrator in my story.
“Jeez,” Sandy says when I finally stop talking.
“Jeez?” Mikayla asks Sandy with big eyes. “That’s all you got?”
Sandy lifts her chin. “I’m still processing.”
“But I’m fine. It’s over.”
“You almost were over,” Mikayla adds.
“I want to murder Lucas,” Sandy says, rubbing her hands together like her brain is working on a plan.
“I think Malakai has that covered,” Mikayla replies.
She isn’t wrong. I doubt a man like Malakai is going to let Lucas skate on his debt without paying some price, and I assume it will be his life.
“How weird is it that Brax’s family knows him?” Sandy asks, but she isn’t being mean. I can see the innocence in her question written all over her face.
“I haven’t lost sight of that fact either. My family doesn’t know any mobsters. Does yours, Sandy?” Mikayla asks.
Sandy shakes her head.
“I was all for team Braxasaurus-Rex, but now…” Mikayla’s lips turn down as she pulls in a long, deep breath, “Now, he’s slipping in my rankings of dream man for you.”
“Oh, stop,” I say, laughing that she used thesame nickname for him as I did because I never uttered it to another soul. I’m certain we aren’t the first people to think of it either, but our minds do work the same, which isn’t shocking since we’re best friends.
“Brax isn’t part of that world. His grandfather knew him from the neighborhood. His family has owned that bar for decades. I’m sure they know everyone from that area.”
Mikayla stares at me, blinking a few times with an otherwise blank face. “Uh-huh,” she mumbles.
“His grandfather is a sweet man,” I continue, ignoring Mikayla and her skepticism—even if she is right, I’ll never admit it. “He totally had my back and cleared everything up.”
“Yeah, that’s something an old, retired bartender would do. I mean, I’m sure I can call a mobster and have a sit-down with him because I served him a beer thirty years ago.” Mikayla rolls her eyes as she lifts the wine to her mouth, finally filling her yapper with something other than words.
“What does it matter?” Sandy asks Mikayla as she refills her wineglass again. “She’s safe now. I don’t care who knows who as long as no one is coming after her because Lucas is a giant douchebag.”
I haven’t touched my wine yet, but these two are guzzling theirs down like it’s an Olympic sport. Sometimes I wish I didn’t sleepwalk and talk. I want to be normal, but then I think of all the times I’veseen them with hangovers and massive headaches, and I count myself a little lucky.
“Are you sure Brax is clean?”
“Clean?” I ask, playing stupid.
“He’s not, you know…” She presses her nose to the side. “Crooked.”
“He’s clean,” I promise her. “If, and it’s a big if, his grandpa was into anything bad, Brax is not. He’s a normal guy.”
Sandy snorts. “Is there such a thing as a normal guy? I haven’t met one yet.”
Mikayla and I giggle because she isn’t far off base, but Brax is the closest to normal I’ve met.
“I met some of his family.”
Their laughter dies in an instant.
