Page 149 of Kneeling to Candy

“How the fuck is this news to you?” Ebony cocks her head, baffled. “You were there.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember it. I mean, I had this recurring dream where Butch and I got married in Vegas after he proposed to me with a Ring Pop. Turns out it wasn’t a dream.”

Ebony’s nose wrinkles. “He proposed to you with a Ring Pop? And you accepted?”

I throw my hands in the air. “Apparently.”

My friend covers her mouth with her hand, hiding her smile.

“It’s not funny, Eb!”

“It kind of is,” Ebony chokes through her chuckle. “You must’ve been wasted off your ass.”

Annoyed, I glare at the woman I consider an adoptive sister. “I’m glad this amuses you. But you’re not the one who got hitched without your knowledge and had your biker hide it from you.”

She stops laughing, analyzing me with puckered lips. “What do you mean, Butch hid this from you?”

“We left Vegas less than two weeks ago. I found this marriage license by chance when I picked up his cut and it fell out. Butch confessed he’s known about this since we left Vegas and didn’t tell me until I confronted him with it. He kept me in the dark, and I don’t know why!”

Ebony holds up a palm to stop me once she sees I’m close to blowing my lid. “Walk me through it, gurl. Let me see if I can make sense of it.”

After I explain to Ebony the brief conversation I had with Butch regarding our marriage, my temperature rises, along with my rage. I’m so mad, I’m sweating. Or maybe that’s because I’m being suffocated in Ebony’s couch. Either way, it doesn’t help my temperament.

“There has to be a reason he didn’t feel comfortable telling you about this,” Ebony rationalizes, waving the marriage certificate in the air between us.

Her words anger me further. “So it’s my fault he hid this from me?”

Ebony holds up a finger in warning. “Whoa, now. I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did,” I snap. “You said I must’ve made him too uncomfortable to tell me. Victim blame much?”

“Chill out,” Ebony claps back. “You’re twisting my words.”

A sound of disgust crawls up my throat. “The one who’s twisting anything is you, accusing me of having something to do with something I didn’t know of.”

My friend clearly disapproves of my attitude, her lips forming a thin line of discontent. She gives me a stern glare before scolding me. “Why am I on the reciprocating end of your bitchiness? Am I the one who put a ring on it and hid it from you? I think not. You better UNO reverse your tone, Candy. Return to sender right fucking now, or I’ll go one-percent on your ass.”

Ah, shit. Beat-down Ebony is not someone you want to mess with. The woman fights dirty.

It’s the reality check I need to snap me out of my rage. I look away from my friend, mortified at blowing up on her. She’s right. Ebony has nothing to do with my shitty circumstances, and I’m an ass for taking my aggression out on her.

Owning up to my mistake, I face Ebony. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” I admit, my voice laced with chagrin. “I’m so damn mad, I lashed out at the first person to come into my orbit.”

The contempt on Ebony’s face melts away, replaced with compassion. Empathetic Ebony is almost worse than Beat-down Ebony, at least for someone prideful like me. I swallow my pride right down, knowing I need a friend to listen to me air my grievances.

My friend gets up from her seat and joins me on the sofa, sinking us deeper into the cushions.

“I get it,” Ebony admits. “I’d be hella pissed, too, if I were in your shoes. Your anger is justified, but not at me.”

I give her a shy smile. “Forgive me?”

Ebony releases a humorless snort, pulling me in for a hug. “Yeah, I forgive your bitchy behavior.”

We embrace for a long time—her comforting me, and me soaking it in like a dry sponge.

When we pull apart, I sigh. “What am I going to do, Eb?”

Her dark brows pinch together with a look of concern. “What do you want to do?”

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