I feel the heat rise up my neck. I want to deny it, or make a joke, or even hit the brakes and throw Ford out into a snowbank. Instead, I just stare at the windshield, watching the flakes bounce off the glass. “That was different,” I say, barely above a whisper.
“Sure it was,” Ford sneers. “You did it for her, right? Out of the goodness of your heart.” He leans in and kisses Ava on the cheek. “You hear that, baby? Wes is a goddamn gentleman.”
“Would you two quit your bickering?” Raf growls, his hands flexing on his knees. “I need to stay focused.” He hits the stereo button on the dash, switching it back on.
We fall into silence again, the music swelling to fill it. I take a long breath, focus on the road, and try to ignore the way Ford and Ava keep tangling together in the back seat. But I can’t, not really. I never can.
We roll into Dyersville at a crawl, the warehouse rising ominously in the distance. I cut the headlights when we turn into the parking lot, tires crunching over gravel as I roll to a stop. Before I can even shift the gear into park, Raf flings the passenger door open. He quickly hops out, yanking his gym bag from the floorboard and marching off toward the building, not waiting for us. He never does.
Ava winces as she gets out of the car, shifting awkwardly as the plug makes itself known again. Ford smirks and reaches for her, but I cut between them, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You good?” I ask, as gently as I can manage.
She nods, smiling up at me. “Yeah. Thanks, Wes.”
Ford snorts and rolls his eyes, but lets it drop for now. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he says, tipping his head inthe direction of the warehouse. “I wanna put some money down before the odds shift.”
We start for the entrance, the bouncer stepping aside to let us through without a word. Once inside, the heat and noise hit like a slap– the air thick with sweat, beer, and the heady promise of violence. Ford grabs Ava’s hand and immediately starts dragging her toward the betting booth. I follow, but hang back, keeping an eye on the exits and trying my best not to think about the plug situation.
Ford slaps a wad of bills down on the counter, winking at the girl behind it. “Three grand on my boy,” he says with a grin.
She smiles back at him, her tits spilling out of her top as she leans over the counter. “You sure about that, big guy?” she asks, batting her lashes. “The odds aren’t in his favor tonight.”
Ford waves her off, scoffing a laugh. “Just means I’ll win big.”
She hands him a slip and gives Ava a once-over, eyebrow raised. “You betting, hon?”
Ava shakes her head shyly, backing toward me.
The girl’s attention shifts, eyes locking with mine. “How about you, pretty boy?”
I slide a hand into my pocket, fingering the roll of cash I brought, trying to decide how much to put down. It’s all I’ve got left. “Not sure yet,” I murmur.
Ava leans into my side. “Maybe you should,” she says, voice low and a little breathless.
“Yeah, Wes,” Ford chimes in unhelpfully. “Show your faith in the family.”
I hesitate, but then Ava bats her lashes at me and all sense of rational thought flees my brain. “If you win,” she purrs, “maybe you can use the money to take me out on a real date.”
My pulse skips. She’s kidding– or at least I think she is– but something about it hits different. Like maybe, just maybe, itwouldn’t be a total disaster if I tried to be a real boyfriend for once.
Fuck it.
I pull the entire roll from my pocket, stepping forward and slapping my cash down on the counter. “Eight grand on Romero.”
“Ooh, big spender,” the girl behind it croons, grabbing the cash, scribbling the numbers down, and handing me a slip.
I tuck it into my pocket, turning to find Ford and Ava already tangled together again. He’s got his arm around her waist, his hand low on her hip, and she’s laughing at something he said. It’s like I’m fucking invisible.
“Bar?” Ford suggests, already steering Ava in that direction.
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, trailing behind them.
We move through the sea of bodies, the volume inside the warehouse increasing by the second as the crowd thickens. The bartenders are a pair of dudes tatted up to their necks, moving so fast the bottles blur in their hands. Ford orders us a round of shots, and we slam them back, the whiskey burning all the way down.
Ava wipes her mouth, eyes shining. “This is insane,” she says, eyes glittering as she looks around. “I love it.”
Ford leans in, licking the taste of whiskey off her lips. “Stick with me, Doll. I’ll show you a good time.”
She shoves him, but not very hard. “Is there a bathroom?” she asks, shifting from foot to foot.
