I look at her, brows raised. She shoves the cup in my direction. I take a sip reluctantly, expecting it to be sour. What I taste is the polar opposite. It's creamy, sweet and has the perfect amount of vodka.
"Oh, shit that's good," I say, holding the cup up to analyze it.
"Give it back," she says, reaching for it. I hand it over without teasing her. She snatches it out of my hands and takes another sip, humming her approval and making my dick twitch in my jeans.
"If you don't stop making love to that lemonade, I'm going to have to give it a talking to," I say sternly.
She wriggles her brows at me and takes another sip, this time keeping her hums to herself. Aaron comes sneaking up behind her and pokes a finger in her ribs, making her jump.
"Shit! You scared the hell out of me," she chastises him with a slap on his arm.
He's laughing so hard I think there may be tears in his eyes.
"You're lucky she isn't wearing flip-flops," I tell him.
"Oh, she's fast with thechancla?" he asks, still laughing.
I nod. "She's fast as fuck, boy. She'll get you with that flip-flop before you see it coming."
Aaron puts his hands up in a blocking manner and takes a step back, making us both laugh.
"You should try the spiked lemonade," Lilly suggests, pointing to the truck we got it from a few feet away.
"Spiked lemonade?" Aaron asks, looking at the sign. He approaches the booth and orders one as the rest of the crew joins us, ol’ ladies and all.
Lilly and the girls ride a few rides while we all watch idly from the ground.
While Lilly is riding the one that makes a circle and goes upside down, my phone rings. I walk behind the ride away from the carnival sounds and answer.
"We did something," Clayton says when I answer.
"What kind of something?" I ask.
"Fixed a problem," he says.
"Is this fix going to require fixing later on down the road?" I ask, unsure of how much fixing he and Brock can do without violence.
Clayton laughs, a true, belly laugh on the other end of the phone. "No, son. Not this time. There's an old buddy of ours who just seemed like the perfect fit for the job and unbeknownst to him, he is now the sole being responsible for the death of Barry Harlow."
"I'm intrigued," I say cheerfully.
"One of Barry's old enemies, who took a wrong turn in life and ended up barely off the streets for the last twenty years turns out to be in possession of incriminating evidence from the Barry Harlow crime, such as the saw that was used to cut him that still has his very dried blood on it. It's a shame he had that just laying around his house when he overdosed earlier. Why, it should be making the headlines in the next day or two," Clayton says.
I'll be damned. The son of a bitch did it.
"I thought all of that had been burned in the fire?" I question.
"Well, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve and figured it might come in handy one day, so I held onto it."
"That was stupid, but I'm glad you did it," I say.
Lilly exits the ride with a smile on her face and walks unsteadily down the metal stairs. She spots me off in the middle of the field behind the ride, pacing on the phone. She takes a few steps toward me and stops, questioning if it's okay to approach. I nod and wave her over.
"I'll see you when you get back to the clubhouse, son," Clayton says before ending the call. I shove my phone in my pocket just in time to grab Lilly's hand.
"What do you say we go home and get ready for this wedding?" I ask.
Lilly nods enthusiastically. "I say yes, let's do it!"
