Understandably, things have always been strained between the three of them. I guess Molly’s mother didn’t want her kid hanging out at the homewrecker’s house, so Sly wasn’t allowed to see Molly as much as he wanted to. He and Angie only recently managed to have a baby of their own, after years of failed attempts and procedures.
And now Molly’s stepfather is moving them to Phoenix, and Sly might as well forget about ever having a close relationship with her.
Is that what’s gonna happen with Junior if things end badly between me and his mom?
“Do you wanna know what her T-shirt said the day before Christmas break?” Marissa’s voice rouses me from my depressing thoughts.
“You know I do.”
She turns her entire body towards me. “On the front, it said, You fit into me, like a hook into an eye,” she says with a mischievous smile. “And on the back, it clarified, A fish hook, an open eye.”
“Fucking hell,” I say with a wince. “What’s wrong with that girl?”
Molly wears her hair short, has a pierced eyebrow, hates color or looking put together, and, worst of all, she’s one of those militant man-haters. Her attitude causes Prez a great deal of heartache, but his bitch ex and her husband have full custody of Molly, and besides, she’s almost 18, so he can’t do anything about it.
“I can’t believe she’s Prez’s kid,” I murmur.
Marissa rummages around her bag, shrugging, then pulls out her lipstick. “I like Molly. Besides, she’s her mother’s daughter too, not just Prez’s.”
Something about the imagery of those hooks and those eyes has me on edge. It’s like my skin is too tight.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask angrily.
Again with the anti-club behavior.
“It’s supposed to mean that she probably takes after her mother. God! What is with you? Why are you being so confrontational about everything?”
I quietly watch her apply her lipstick in her vanity mirror.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“What do you think?” She asks, examining her work in the mirror.
“You look incredible,” I say, and she does.
It’s like the red lipstick has shone a light on the rest of her face and made all of her features stand out. Her eyes seem even bluer.
“Wait until you see what’s under my dress,” she winks.
After Twitch waves us through the gate, I thank God that his ass will remain here all night instead of getting drunk and blabbing about shit that’s none of his business.
I open my car door, and Marissa clears her throat before asking me, very quietly, “Dylan, do you not want to be with me anymore?”
“What? Where the fuck is that coming from?”
“I just… Lately, things haven’t been good between us. It’s okay if you just want us to coparent DJ and not be together like that.”
“Marissa… I think you’ve picked the worst moment possible to have this conversation. Tonight is supposed to be about us reconnecting, having fun, am I right?”
She nods.
“Well, let’s do that then,” I tell her and squeeze her hand reassuringly.
“Okay,” she nods and steps out of the cage.
She rolls the dress up all the way to her breasts and then carefully pulls it off over her head. My throat goes dry.
She’s wearing knee-high leather fuck-me boots, fishnet stockings, the tiniest leather shorts you’ve ever seen, her ol’ lady cut, and underneath it, a black leather corset that puts her soft, white, huge tits on display.
