After collecting six shots of tequila, she makes her way back with the same razzle-dazzle.
“I’m bagging my man tonight,” she announces, determination in every word.
“Meaning?”
“Jig won’t touch me because I’m seventeen.” She quickly gulps down a shot. “He doesn’t understand that age means nothing.”
“Let me get this straight.” I rub my forehead. “You’re pretending to be a year older just to get some old man’s peen?”
“It’s more than just sex,” Meela snaps at me. “We belong together. He’s just fighting it right now.”
I regard her thoughtfully for a moment. “You love him.”
“Yeah,” she says, nodding solemnly. “I do.”
“Then I hope it works out.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She downs another shot, and I take my first. “Did Leah tell you about the party next Saturday?”
“No. Whose party?”
“Some douchebag perv who graduated last year, but that’s not important,” Meela answers me. “It’s his birthday and he throws the best parties, hands down. I’m talking free booze, food, and pot. You should definitely come.”
“Yeah, sure,” I respond, happy for the invite. “What time?”
“Come over at eight,” she answers me. “We can get ready together.”
“Okay,” I say, then gulp down a second shot. “So why do you call him douchebag perv?”
“Because he tries to fuck every girl he comes into contact with,” Meela replies, her pretty features contorting with revulsion. “He’s not even cute.”
“You don’t belong here,Trash.”
I whip my head toward the familiar voice, my spine snapping straight. My gaze clashes with the woman from the restaurant. She’s naked, and to be honest, her body looks damn amazing—her makeup and loose, flowing curls are on point too.
“You’re the one walking around naked,” I retort sweetly. “I think we all know who the trash is here.”
Her eyes narrow to tiny slits. “You’re going to pay for your disrespect, bitch.”
“I suggest you run along and find a dick to suck,” Meela quips, flicking her hand in a shooing motion. “Wouldn’t want to get that pretty little face messed up.”
“You fat pig—”
“Is there a problem, Ivy?” Zeus rumbles, and the woman’s mouth snaps shut.
“N-no, e-everything’s f-fine,” she stammers, her gaze on the floor.
“Then go about your business,” he demands.
She marches off, but not before shooting me a disdainful look. This Ivy woman is going to be a major pain in my rear end. I already have enough on my plate as it is.
“What the hell was that about?” Meela asks.
I sigh and relay the restaurant incident to her, though omitting some details.
“I don’t personally know her, but I’ve seen her around,” Meela mentions when I’m done. “She’s a twinkie and is always chasing behind Sandman. She wants to be his old lady.”
“Twinkie? Old lady?” More motorcycle world lingo I don’t understand.
