Page 8 of Firecracker

Chapter Three

We pull up to the lounge, there are a few men standing around out front but other than that it looks like a regular bar. Gus jumps out, opening my door next and when I move to the edge of the seat, I get ready to jump, but he moves in front of me reaching both arms out like he’s going to catch me.

“Gus, I can jump out,” I explain.

“Fuck no ye can’t. It’s all ice here an the last thing I need is for ye to crack that crown on my watch.”

Before I can protest, he reaches in, gripping my hips again and pulls me out, placing me on the ground effortlessly.

I hear a whistle from the other side of the truck. “What the fuck you two doing? It’s cold. Let’s go.”

I grab my humongous purse throwing it over my shoulder and yank my hood over my head before I take a step. It is slippery as fuck. I move slowly toward the door where the group of men are standing. Thank God I wore my Uggs.

I feel Gus move up behind me placing his hand on my lower back. “Follow Quick an I'll be right behind ya. He’ll lead ya to Iz.”

When I moved up next to Quick, I hold my hood in place while I look up. He must have been staring at me because when our eyes meet, he smiles, letting out a chuckle. Jesus, he took his hat off letting his light brown hair fall into his face when he looks down.

“Fuck me. You look like a marshmallow with that hideous jacket on. All I can see is this big as fuck jacket, big ass boots, blonde hair flying around and tiny little legs moving.”

I laugh. “Well I’m not used to this weather and need all the warmth I can get.”

Goddamn, he’s cute. He is just shy of Brody’s height, but man he’s built. Stop. Do not compare the two.

Quick opens the door and moves in only to stop a few feet inside the door, which in turn has me running right into the back of him. I shift my hood off to look around.

“Quick, head to Iz,” Gus barrels from behind me.

“You got it, brother,” he replies.

Once Quick starts moving, I notice it is standing room only. The place is packed. I don’t see anyone in front of me with Quick being so tall and broad. I hear Izzy squeal before I see her.

“Ruby, Rube!”

Excitement and joy fills my heart for the first time in months. Before I have time to look around, Quick is being pushed aside, and Izzy’s five-foot-eleven glorious model of a body is grabbing me into a bear hug.

“Finally. You’re here!” she exclaims.

Quick laughs. “What, no hug for me? No, ‘thanks Quick for going to get my girl?’ Nothing?”

Izzy releases me to arm’s length, looking me up and down. “Rube, what the fuck are you wearing? I can barely see you.”

Both men laugh, but of course, it’s Quick’s sarcastic ass who keeps talking. “See, I said the same fucking thing. She looks like a fucking marshmallow.”

I laugh and hug Izzy again. I haven’t said anything, and I’m trying to hold my shit together. I don’t want to cry in front of all these people. Izzy must sense it too from the way I have a death grip on her, so without a word, she just turns around, ignoring everyone and pulls me hand in hand with her.

The crowd moves, letting her pass through. I don’t look around, I just keep my face down looking at her three-inch heels clatter across the floor.

She opens a small door to a hallway and then another, and when I look up, we’re in a small room with music equipment. Izzy lets go of my hand closing the door behind us, shutting everyone out. I just hear the music that is playing. Not knowing what to do or say I just stand there gripping my purse.

“I got you. Get your shit together while I play the next song. You got this girl,” Izzy says, passing by me, heading toward the decks.

She puts her headphones on, turning her back to me, and that’s when I see the mass of people dancing in front of the window-like wall. I turn to the side so they can’t see me and move toward the couch. I drop my purse onto it before dropping my ass into it, and take a few deep breaths.

I’m here. Finally. I am here. I got this. It's like old times. Don’t think too much into it. It’s Izzy.

I put a smile on my face, wipe my eyes and sit back. Izzy is as beautiful as ever. She was supposed to be a model like her mother but hated it. She’s a good ten inches taller than me on a good day but with heels on, she towers over me. She has her hair in Princess Lea side buns. I laugh thinking of all the weird hairstyles I’ve seen her do. God, she looks the same, if not better.

I start to relax watching her bounce around and tap her foot to the beat. She truly is an amazing DJ. As far back as I can remember, she always has been.

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