He nodded. “So we’re doin’ that,” he said. “Makin’ a life.”
“Together,” I whispered dubiously.
“You’re not fleein’, Theodora—”
“Teddy,” I corrected. “Only the government calls me Theodora.”
“Teddy,” he agreed. “You’re not escapin’, yeah? You’re movin’ to Eugene to live with your man and his kid. Blendin’ families. Makin’ a life.”
“That’s the big idea that Grease came up with?” I asked in disbelief.
“What? He didn’t tell you?”
“He told me to pack our shit and pick you up,” I replied. “And we’d be on our way to Oregon.”
“Well, that’s all true.”
“I think he left a bit out.”
“Sounds like it.”
“So…what? We’re supposed to pretend we’re together? That’s insane.”
“Can you think of a better option?” he asked, his words almost gentle. “Because I’m all ears, baby. You wanna play this different, that’s fine with me.”
I opened and closed my mouth, trying to find a reply.
“But I’m guessin’ that if you had a different plan, you woulda used it before now.”
“He honestly thinks that David won’t go scorched earth when he finds out that I’m shacking up with some guy up in Oregon?” I scoffed. What the fuck was I doing? Why had I been dumb enough to trust some man I’d met once just because my pop had asked him for help? I should’ve known. I really should’ve. I’d been making bad decisions since I was old enough to make them, and this was just the latest in a long slew of idiotic choices. God, what I wouldn’t give for a big chunk of money in the bank and a flight to literally anywhere.
“Finn’s got your name, right?” Curtis asked.
“You mean my last name? Yeah.” I’d gotten a black eye for it, but Mike had never been good with follow-through, and his demand to change it had been forgotten by the next time we heard from him.
“So how would I know that you’ve got any kind of connection to the Grangers?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m sayin’ that as far as David Granger is concerned, you and I are together because you’re fuckin’ gorgeous and I want in there.”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“He’s got no fight with the club. No grievance he can use.”
“He doesn’t need a grievance,” I argued. “He does whatever the fuck he wants. He doesn’t have to have areason.”
“You’re wrong there,” Curtis said, switching lanes so he could pass a car going too slow in the fast lane. “Everyone’s accountable to someone. Granger may be top dog, but that doesn’t mean that his underlings are stupid. They’re willin’ to piss on their patch if they feel like they’ve been disrespected, but they’re not gonna start a fight for no reason.”
“I’m the reason,” I gritted out.
“You think they give a shit about you?”
I kept my mouth shut because he had a point.
“As far as anyone knows, you’re movin’ to Oregon because that’s where your man is. He even came to drive you home with him. Granger’s got no reason to fight you on that because he’s got no real right to you in the first place. He’s got no fight with the Aces because, as far as he knows, we weren’t aware of any connection to him.”
“And that’s it,” I said flatly. “We’re just going to pretend in public that we’re together.”
