“You were perfect on stage,” Jake whispers in my ear. “I loved seeing you up there.”
I smile and look down at my left hand.
It was strange to play with my engagement ring on. Feel its weight. See its scarlet as my fingers moved on the keys. The way your hands hold a flute, my new ruby will flash in my face every time I play. But that’s not sacrifice. I like the crimson shine being there. It reminded me I’m not alone anymore, even on stage. But I can’t tell Jake that right now. He might cry, and that would break the scary rugby man kayfabe he’s adopted, even as we pretend to enjoy ourselves. I’m just about to suggest heading inside for some food when the asshole of the hour comes barrelling toward us like a missile.
“Cece Taylor!” Thrasher bellows. “I want a fuckin’ word!”
Cece and I exchange a look of alarm. Out of everyone here, she’s the last person I’d expect him to come gunning for. Well, her or Gavin…
Jake and Davis rise as one, shoulder-to-shoulder in front of Cece.
“Back it up,” Davis barks.
Thrasher ignores him, his gaze locked on Cece. “Jenny’s cryingher eyes out in the bathroom because of you.”
I flash back to last night, Jenny flirting her tits off with Thrasher and Tristan. I guess that earned her this little act of chivalry.
“So?” Cece replies.
“So, what’s wrong with you?” Thrasher says. “This is supposed to be a nice fuckin’ party.”
“You’ve got balls, lecturing me on good behaviour,” Cece snaps, stepping around Davis. “How’s Grace doing?”
Thrasher’s ruddy face darkens. “The fuck you say to me?”
“You heard me.” Cece points a finger at his face. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You and your sleazy mates. Hiding each other’s filth. Making this town toxic.”
Thrasher stumbles backward as I take my place at Cece’s side. “Fuck off, you idiot. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”
Thrasher’s mouth twists like a worm. “You.”
“Me,” I say with all the scorn I can muster.
He glances over his shoulder, but no cavalry rides in. Even Shannon stays where he is. And more than one person has their phone up, recording. Probably because Jake’s here, but still.
I gesture at Thrasher’s beard. “Still self-conscious about that chin, huh? What’s it even look like under that thing? Do you know?”
Thrasher opens his mouth, then glances at Jake, who stares stonily back. Thrasher doesn’t say a thing.
“Good choice,” I say. “Besides, calling me an ugly cunt again won’t give you a jawline, mate. That’s just not how it works.”
Cece and Betty laugh, and Thrasher’s face goes redder.
I know I’m being stupid, but I also know I’ve got my friends around me and everyone watching. Once upon a time, Thrasher Thompson was the person who had a crew at his back, and he used it to shove me to the ground. I might not want to crash-tackle Jenny Wallis anymore, but I don’t see any reason to play nice.
“Heard from the cops yet?” I ask. “Want you down at the station for a chat?”
Thrasher’s eyes flick to Jake again, and I mentally thank him for his silence. As much as I love his strength, it’s cathartic to talk shit to this man right now.
Thrasher glares. “None of this is gonna come to anything.”
“Oh, you mean the human trafficking on your farm?” I say loudly. “Yeah, nah, I think that’s gonna come to something. Same with the tax fraud, the money laundering, the fucked up parties, the?—”
“Shut up,” Thrasher shouts, a fleck of spit flying from his face to mine.
I don’t move, and neither does anyone else. “It’s over. You’re fucked, and so is everyone tied to you. Every. Last. One.”
Thrasher’s flush deepens to purple. “You’ve got no proof.”
