I don’t drive too fast, but he still has to jog to keep up, feet stumbling as he tries to stay on them.
“What did he say to us?” I ask again.
Cillian says, “Fuck you.Do I have that right? Who’s fucked now?”
Bro is still fighting with the window, crying and begging to get out while I keep driving. “What do you say?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Dunno what I was thinking.”
“You weren’t.” I thump the side of his head.
His feet slip out from under him again, his hands clawing at the window.
“Say it one more time. We couldn’t hear you.”
“I’m sorry!” he shouts. “I won’t do it again.”
I slam on the brakes, and he jerks to a stop with the car. “Don’t ever fucking talk to us again.”
I move my hand over to hit the button for the window, when Cillian adds, “You know this is our little secret, correct? Because if you don’t…well, we’d have to pay you another visit, and we wouldn’t be as nice and understanding as we were this time.”
“I know. Fuck, I know!”
I hit the button, and he gasps, stumbling backward, falling on his ass.
Without another word, I pull away. “Next stop panties?” I ask Cillian, who laughs.
“You crazy motherfucker.”
“Can’t argue with that. It’s why I have you and your kitten to keep me in line.”
Something about that sobers him up. “Not your boy?”
“Don’t know… We both get a rush from danger.” Though I don’t think it’s as strong for Shai.
“If he gets you in trouble—”
“He won’t.”
Cillian lets it go, and we drive to the mall—the fucking mall, of all places. I don’t even think I’ve ever been to a mall before.
“So where the fuck do we go?” I ask.
“Isn’t there like, a panty-and-bra store?”
There is, in fact, a panty-and-bra store, a salesperson heading straight for us. “Can I help you? Looking for something for your girlfriend?” she asks.
“Nope. It’s for me.”
Her gaze darts back and forth between Cillian and me.
“He likes to dress up for me,” Cil says.
Her face flushes, and we both bite back a laugh. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“Panties,” I answer. “Pretty ones.”
After getting over her initial embarrassment, Lavone is extremely helpful. I’ve seen a ton of styles of underwear on women, but I didn’t know the names of any of them, like boy shorts and hipsters and whatnot, and Lavone explains it all. We go with a combination of lace and silk, in various colors. I end up with five pairs, which Lavone packages up, and once I pay, she hands the bag over. “Good for you,” she tells me, and I grin.
