Page 3 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

We make our way up the steps of the platform as the bouncer unclips a velvet rope, allowing us to pass. I saunter across the stage, making my way over to Nicky, who’s posted up on an orange Victorian-style couch. It’s gaudy as shit, and he looks ostentatious just sitting on it, but it’s who he is. When it comes to style, Nicky’s all for the flash and show. Anyone else, I don’t think I could stomach it, but with him it’s honestly just part of his charm.

Two girls rest into him, one on each side. I’ve seen them before. They’re club rats and two of his regulars, so they know the drill. As I approach, they hop up without needing to be told. Nicky looks up, smiling at the sight of me. I can’t help but smirk back.

“Hey, sis!” he calls out over the music, extending his arm and signaling me to join him on the couch.

My smirk remains firmly in place, though I shake my head at him while crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s 2 AM. I wanna go home, Nicky!”

“Say no more.” He hops up without hesitation, maneuvering around the glass tabletop and slinging his arm around me before motioning to Rico and the rest of the crew. My brother may be king, but he’s still my brother, and our bond runs deep.

Rico hands me my black leather jacket before falling in line behind us with Tommy and JP on his heels. The five of us make our way through the still-packed club, bodies parting as we pass. As we hit the entryway, I don’t know why I have a sudden urge to glance up, but I do, catching a glimpse of the balcony before we pass under it and out the door.

There, standing against the transparent glass railing, is Maverick Bishop, leader of the Renegade Rebels. A king in his own right, though one who clawed and brawled his way to the top, being from much lesser means, who just happens to be my brother’s number one rival in the shady-ass business he’s caught up in. My brother glances up as well, scoffing while raising a middle finger to Maverick as we pass, but I’m not sure he even notices.

Because while all the club is staring at them, Maverick is solely fixated… on me.

CHAPTER 2

JONSIE

Nicky and I exit the club arm-in-arm. He hits the button on his key ring, and the shiny pearl-white BMW chirps in front of us, signaling it’s unlocked.

Nicky hops in front of me, opening the door and guiding me inside. Shutting me in, he says something to Rico before giving him the pound and making his way over to the driver’s side. Sliding in alongside me, he presses the button on the dash, and the engine purrs to life. Nicky shifts the car in gear and we’re off, speeding down the main road of Queen City.

Queen City sits about an hour and a half north of New York City. While we party here and Nicky conducts some of his business here, we actually live about ten minutes away in the town of Dutchess. Get it? Dutchess—Duchess? Queen City Dukes? Yeah, I know. They’re a bunch of fuckboys, but they’re my fuckboys, so I let it slide.

It’s your standard upper class suburban neighborhood where everyone has giant iron gates outside their home and their driveways are all flanked at the entrances with obnoxious stone sculptures. The way people flaunt wealth has always been weird to me, and I don’t particularly care for it. Like having a giant marble lion sitting next to your mailbox somehow signifies you’re valued more as a human than your neighbor. Humanity fucking sucks.

I bet you’re wondering how Nicky got caught up in such an unsavory business considering where we live and the money we come from. I know what you’re thinking. Neglectful parents? Pill poppers? Abusive?

You’d be wrong on all accounts. Nicky and I have a great life with parents that love us a fuck-ton. He graduated top of his class but decided to forgo college, considering he had at least a dozen sponsorship offers to ride professional motocross. He may come from wealth and have a trust fund, but he makes his own money. We do family vacations, family dinners—we even do family game nights. Nicky’s dad owns a successful recreational vehicle business, which is how Nicky got into motocross in the first place when he was little. Bikes, snowmobiles, ATVs… anything fast enough to do something stupid on, my brother’s mastered it. When my mom married his dad ten years ago, Mitch never made me feel anything other than loved as his own flesh and blood. Nicky instantly took a liking to me as well, and we’ve been attached at the hip ever since.

My parents, while both spectacular people, did not mesh well together and had a God-awful marriage. Thankfully, they decided fairly early on not to subject any of us to that trainwreck any longer and divorced when I was five. Mom met Mitch the following year, who was struggling to cope after he lost Nicky’s mom to cancer two years prior. They just clicked and it was barely another year before they were married. They’re so in love it’s almost sickening, but also wildly adorable.

My dad moved to Cape Cod where he married a lovely woman named Kaitlyn who owns a yoga studio. He and my mom get along fabulously now, and we all even spend some holidays together. Nicky and I also spend two weeks every summer there with them. Literally zero family drama.

So, to circle back, why does Nicky—the Golden Child who has literally everything—decide to spend his free time dealing drugs and engaging in various other illegal activities? The answer’s simple, really. Because he can. Nicky’s an adrenaline junkie through and through. Never touched a drug a day in his life. He gets high off life, the thrill of manipulating the chaos. His brain’s always going a million miles a minute. And what could be more adrenaline-inducing for a bunch of kids from the ‘burbs than running a successful mid-level crime syndicate, trying to avoid both the law and their parents?

He bangs a left onto Raymond, prompting me to look over at him. I glance in the rearview to see Rico, Tommy, and JP continue on toward the house in my Range Rover.

“Where we going? You got a drop?”

“Fuck no, Jones. You really think I’d be carrying? Especially with you in the car?”

True. Nicky would never allow that shit to blow back on me. He’s practically untouchable, but still, he’d never put me at risk.

“Okay, so where we going? It’s two-thirty in the morning, and we have the house to ourselves. Don’t you have group sex with the local cum dumpsters penciled in for right about now?” My brow arches in amusement.

“Funny, Jonsie.” He glances over at me, rolling his eyes. “Nah, I sent Rico and the boys home to make sure nobody shows up. Figured you and I can grab some late-night breakfast and then we can do movie night. You down?”

“Really?!” My face lights up like a goddamn ten-year-old who just got a pony for her birthday.

“Yeah, Baby J. You and I are due for some quality time.”

“What about the boys?”

He scoffs, looking over to me with his brow cocked. “Please. Rico’s already picked out onesie pajamas and popcorn for this shit. He’s more excited for family night than you are.”

I giggle at the mental image of Rico dressed up in some ridiculous getup like a penguin or unicorn clutching a popcorn bucket.

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