Page 58 of Underground Prince

“Your loss. Hang on.” He blew on a handheld mirror, flicking errant drug granules off the reflective glass before doing a thing I’d seen constantly in movies—just not his movies. Pouring out a little powder, wiping at his nose, his nostrils flaring in anticipation.

“I need to ride a few limos before I open that package of yours,” Austin said, and he actually looked adorable while about to snort cocaine.

“Limos?” I couldn’t help asking.

“These guys.” He pulled out a credit card, shaping three straight, white lines on the mirror. “I coined the term. Pretty epic, eh? I got all my asshole friends saying it.” When he was finished, using almost the entire length of his forearm to swipe under his nose, he shouted, “Fuck! Yes!” before lowering his gaze from the ceiling and asking me, “You sure you don’t want some, babe? This stuff is fucking real.”

“I prefer my limos to be of the Bentley variety,” I said with a smile, which he didn’t return, because I think I confused him.

“Not sure I know the guy. And I know the best.” He shrugged. “But fair enough.”

Austin found his checkbook under another pile of scripts at his counter and flipped it open to scribble an amount. He shifted more papers, ball caps and shirts around on the kitchen island, unable to find what he was looking for.

“Here,” I said, scrounging a pen out from my tote.

“Thanks.” He winked at me before signing with a scrawling flair and sent me another wink like I’d just asked for his autograph. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Scarlet,” I said, somewhat reluctantly.

He scribbled on the check again before handing it to me. He snatched it back, letting my hand hover stupidly in the air, and I laughed, pretending to be entirely taken with his antics and caught the check before he could do his dodge-and-flirt again.

“I’m Austin,” he said. As if I didn’t know. “You gonna be around more often? I remember you from last night.” He pointed. “That hair. Hard to miss. Sexy, though.”

“Thanks. What’s the check for again?”

I kind of hoped he owed Theo money. After witnessing his folds last night, this guy could not be that big of a winner.

“Your tip, hun.”

“My…” I glanced at the amount. “Nuh-uh.”

Another wink. “Come around again. Maybe you could introduce me to your Bentley next time.”

“Don’t I wish I had a Bentley to show you,” I said, slipping the check into my bag, more out of politeness than anything else. Five hundred dollars for delivering his thousands didn’t seem possible. “Thank you. I’ll…see you.”

“I hope so.” He stepped around the island so he was in front of me, and I wasn’t imagining his subtle flex to highlight his pectoral muscles. “I know I’m not supposed to but…” He dared to catch one of my curls in his fingers and pulled gently. “I kind of want to request you for the next game.”

“Feel free to text Sax,” I said, but I dragged my hair out of his grip by tucking it behind my ear.

“I will.” He gave me that sexy smile of his, the one that sent droves of girls to him, but as I turned away and stepped over discarded Xbox controllers and empty cans of Red Bull, cigarette butts and fast food containers that he couldn’t be bothered to put in the trash five feet away from the couch, I thought, The boy who never grew up.

“Later, Charlotte.” It came out as a sexual promise.

“Bye,” I called, and exited as quickly as I could. “Alfred.”

His nose scrunched in confusion before I pulled the door shut behind me.

“How’d it go?” Brodie asked, strangely curious as we headed to the elevator.

“Depressing,” I said. “The whole thing is…sad.”

Brodie nodded, making an approving sound in his throat as if I’d said something profound. “Welcome.”

He might’ve been saying a short form of “you’re welcome,” as in a sarcastic way of acknowledging his protection of me in this other, lower layer of life. But most of me knew, with that one word, he was allowing the inevitable to occur, the one thing his stoic existence beside me this evening hadn’t been willing to do until now.

He was inducting me.

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