Luke was sitting across from us, and he watched Davis with a mix of skepticism and hope. It was actually kind of sad. He didn’t trust his brother—a person he should be able to trust above all others. He took a sip of his beer, then leaned back and asked, “So, what have you been up to?”
Davis didn’t miss a beat.
“Been working over at Lexington’s. Not crazy about factory work, but it pays good.” He took a slow drink before adding, “Been crashing with some buddies, and with Presley when my shifts aren’t too crazy. Things have been going pretty good, so I’m thinking about making it more permanent.”
Oh, he was laying it on thick.
I wasn’t one to hide my feelings well. When I was mad or annoyed, you could see it all over my face, so I took a drink of my beer, hoping it would help hide my expression. I didn’t want Luke picking up on any bad vibes, especially when he actually seemed to be buying this charade.
Or maybe he was an even better actor than his brother.
It was hard to tell.
“Is that so?” Luke asked. And damn it. He actually sounded pleased.
I wanted to tell him none of it was true, but I couldn’t. I had to play this thing out, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it. The guilt sat heavy in my chest, and it only got heavier when Davis told him, “Trying to get my feet under me, you know? I gotta do better.”
“That’s great, Davis.” Pride filled Luke’s eyes as he told him, “I’m really glad to hear that.”
Guilt stabbed me again. Harder this time.
Right there, square in the heart.
He was buying the bullshit. Or maybe he didn’t buy all of it, but he sure wanted to. He wanted to believe that his brother was doing right, and who could blame him? Davis was his brother.
Davis kicked back and smiled. “How about you? How’s the club life treating you?”
“Been going good. Damn good.” Luke lit up as he told him, “Been keeping busy either here or at the Black Crown, and when I’m not working, I’m usually at the clubhouse with the brothers. You know how it is.”
“Work hard. Play harder.”
“Exactly.” Luke took a pull from his beer and smiled at one of the waitresses as she walked by. Yep. Still a player. “But it’s not all about playing hard. We’ve made a hell of a life here, and I think we’ve got a good thing. You should come around more and see it for yourself.”
“I will.”
Davis nodded at him like this was just a moment of brotherly bonding and nothing more. And I was sitting there, drowning in loud music and deception, pretending to be the supportive girlfriend. He nudged me, pulling me from my thoughts, and I quickly smiled and took another sip of my beer, hoping it was enough to hide my unease.
They went back to talking, and for a minute—one blessed, heartfelt moment, I genuinely thought I might survive this littleouting. I mean, it wasn’t all bad. Davis was doing most of the talking, and Luke was taking it all in.
I nodded and smiled.
I even gave him the occasional “supportive girlfriend” touch on the arm.
I deserved an Academy Award.
And then, Luke looked at me. Not just a glance. Not a flutter of eye contact.
He. Looked. At. Me.
And only me, and the whole table shifted.
“So, Presley,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “What’s the latest with you? I haven’t seen you around these parts in years.”
My soul left my body.
This wasn’t part of the script. I didn’t know what was okay to say or not to say. I was just supposed to sit here and smile. Not answer questions.
“I’m a hair stylist at a salon downtown.”
