Abigail shrugs. “Need the money.”
Natalie just puts more pizza into her mouth. She was meant to come with me the other night to watch M perform and then to hang out at the club. M is a pop-up dance group that Kitten, Troublemaker, and the rest of the original Misfits are in that does dance numbers while a movie plays. A mix between Broadway andRocky Horror Picture Show, but in a random location, and they never do the same show more than once. The other night was another epic performance, but everyone was all coupled up. I was madder about being the only single lady to talk to than Natalie ghosting me.
“Oh, that reminds me. Troublemaker has a lingerie store. Check this out.” I pull out my phone and go to her website. “It’s called A Little Spice. Aren’t they just to die for?” I show them the clothing line that I earmarked. I have about ten lingerie sets in my cart ready to go, but then I saw she had a clothing line too. It’s small, but I know she can grow with it. I already have a few ideas to ask her to make. And then give me a discount on. This shit’s not cheap, and Daddy Dearest, while he loves me, doesn’t treat me like the spoiled princesssomebiker brothers think I am. I get an allowance for bills and a small “fun money” fund. I’ve been saving up that fun section for a while, waiting to splurge on a new game or Lego set, but nothing’s grabbing my attention. Well, not till now anyway.
“Ooh, that’s cute. Think Troublemaker would extend the friends and family discount?” Abigail wags her eyebrows as she takes the phone and starts looking through the website.
I shrug. “You’ve got to show up to be considered family.”
“Touché, my friend, touché. I’ll be there at the next gathering. Just tell me when.”
I smile and look at Natalie. She takes a second, but then she nods. She’s in too. Good. ’Cause I really can’t have the old ladies getting any ideas. As it is, they keep harassing me about not having a guy. If I don’t get some backup, the next time I show, I might get set up on a blind date. They’re just crazy enough to think it’s a good idea. Despite that my dad’s the president of the club and will skin any man alive for looking at me in any way other than friendship.
Unless it’s Kooper. Then Dad allows any looks he gives me since he’s paid to do so.
I’ve really got to ask how much he’s charging. Because whatever it is, I’m worth more. I’m a real peach. A bright shiny one that’s full of sugary sweetness and a pit that’s hard tothe core.
Chapter 11—Kooper
“Fireball old-fashioned, please.”
I breathe into my whiskey before taking a healthy gulp. Ruby has no freaking clue about alcohol, much less what makes a good whiskey.
“That for you or someone else?” I know she heard me. Of all the damn places she could have ordered a drink at the Flying Monkey, she came to my side and ordered next to me. Well, two seats down. Still my area.
The Hounds might have spread out a bit when we came in for Troublemaker’s claiming of Gator, but most are still toward the stage on the opposite side of where I am.
Claiming ceremony. What a joke. Women don’t claim Hounds. That’s whatwedo. Hounds of the Reaper can claim the soul of another person through death or in partnership. There’s no way to reverse it and take a Hound’s soul. We’re already damned, and we like it that way.
But in typical fashion, Ruby’s at the center of everything and just riling things up. The brothers were told to come tonight to a place that isn’t club but still owned by us. At least Ruby knew not to pull this stunt on holy ground, or what we consider holy to us Reapers. A little dance, a little show, and some fancy words are all this was tonight. If Ruby thinks she changed anything, despite her claim that things were going to be different going forward, she’s dead wrong.
“What if it were for me?”
“I’d tell you to have fun.”
“And if it’s for someone else?”
“That it’s a shit drink, and you should get them something better.”
She scoffs. “So, you’d save someone you don’t know over me?”
I give her a narrow look. “It’s whiskey, not hemlock. It won’t kill you.”
“Too much of it will.”
I grab my drink and take another sip. “Well, too much of anything will kill you.”
“What a way to go, huh?”
Her words surprise me, and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye to see a small smile on her lips as she looks over the glass. Not sure if she’s talking about the drink anymore or something else.
She looks… well, she looks good enough to fuck. A fucking wet dream if I were still a prepubescent boy and had those kinds of dreams. Now they’re filled with death, if I dream at all. Not my own, but me killing. Destroying anything in my way as I fight to get to something. No clue what I’m looking for. It’s been the same damn dream for the last five years. Just fighting and fighting, searching for something or someone. I bet a psychologist would just love to get a hold of me for a session.
“Ruby!”
I look over her shoulder and see Abigail waving her over. She’s already surrounded by some guys, none of them ours.
“Got to go. Looks like my girl found us some dates for the night.”
