Page 102 of Embody

“Listen here, bitch.”

“No,” Bellamy starts to climb over the back of her chair, apparently no longer concerned with the fact she’s wearing a skirt, but I think it best to stop her short of that and hook my finger in the top of said skirt to hold her at bay. “Youlisten. I haven’t name called, yet, but you’re pushing it. I’m actually not a bitch, at all, nor are my friends or boyfriend trashy or rude. In fact, they’re some of the most generous, loving, kind people in the whole world. So apologize, and we’ll try to keep it down.”

Even when she’s “chewing ass,” (we’ll let her think that), she’s rational, fair, and sweet as an angel. Bellamy Morgan steals my breath. Amazes me. Makes me want to be a man worthy of such inherent goodness.

And I’m gonna work on that…right after I keep us all from going to jail.

“You and your gang of,” Cruella, (my mom would be so proud), scrunches her face in disgust, “hoodlumsshould be the ones apologizing. And honey, I wouldn’t draw attention to myself inthatoutfit,” she sneers.

What. A. Bitch. All I see is red. Bellamy was so damn proud of her new outfit. She even handed out fliers to every woman in my family, her whole face glowing as she bragged about the store and all the nice stuff there.

Presley and Brynn feel exactly the same way as me, their teeth bared and eyes screaming of pain to be inflicted. Also like me, they probably caught the brief fall to Bellamy’s face, the slight slump in her shoulders. Hell. No.

I give Presley “the look,” the one that says ‘do your thing, I’ll bail you out and back any story you tell your parents.’ No one gets to shame my Bellamy and get away with it.

And with the silent assurance, Presley goes from zero to five-hundred in a blaze of Beckett glory. “Alright, Twat, Bellamy was trying to be civil. Didn’t seem to work, and I don’t like that fucking approach anyway, so now, you’re in grave danger. And you might wanna piss-off with yourthat outfitshit. Your earrings are fake, your purse is a knock-off and your nose job? Sue for malpractice immediately. Bellamy is hotter than you’d ever be even if I set you on fire, WHICH I’M CONSIDERING, and everyone here knows it. Your man there can’tquitlooking at her! Now apologize, shut the fuck up and sit down, in that order, or I’m gonna vag drag you all the way to the parking lot! Your choice.”

And that, folks, is my kick-ass cousin. “Vag Drag” is new—I like it.

The girl about to be set on fire and/or dragged by her vag’s boyfriend, who hasn’t so much as stood up and better not be ogling my woman, finally decides to get involved. Not his best decision. Did he not see what just happened with the other guy? Moron.

“Andnowwe’re supposed to believe you’re not trash?” he scoffs at Presley. “Real nice mouth you got on ya there. How ‘bout I giveyoutwenty bucks and you call it a night, catch a cab back to the trailer park, on me?”

Ah, I see what he did there, with the twenty bucks offer; so hewaswatching before…taking him from moron to complete imbecile.

“Sit down and don’t move,” I demand while physically placing Bellamy in her seat, then start around the end of the aisle—onto the plan where Presley bailsmeout and covers my back on explanation after I’m done kicking the shit outta this punk. I’m done for the night; no more insulting my girls!

But I’m stopped by my own earlier words. “J, I got this,youget my girl,” Sutton says so calmly it’s frightening. He slowly stands, of course everything he does appears somewhat slow—hard to move his 6’5, 260 lb. self anywhere quickly—but he does it. In one, gold-medal worthy hurdle, he’s over his chair and in the aisle behind us.

“Move,” he snarls at the girl who started this whole mess. “You’re a mean bitch, but I don’t wanna hurt you, so sit the fuck down and stay there. Gonna teach your boy here some manners. You should probably take notes.”

“Listen, man,”her boyis having serious second thoughts since gettinganotherlook at Sutton upright; (yeah, maybe it is scarier close-up, I’ll give him that), both hands up in the classic pose of “I surrender, please don’t grind my bones to make your bread,” and visibly, profusely sweating. “Let’s just forget the whole thing, and everyone enjoy their night. Jenny, tell them you’re sorry.”

“Sorry,” she huffs, rolling her eyes.

“And you?” Sutton stalks closer, cracking his knuckles as he asks dude numero dos, who, if he hasn’t already, is on the brink of shitting himself.

“I’m sorry too, very. Let me make it up to you, all of you. We’re just gonna go see if we can’t find some other seats and how about I send over a round of beers for everyone?”

“Bellamy,” Sutton looks back at her, “you okay with that?”

Like that he asked her first, exactly why he’s my friend…one big, scary, class act.

“Yep, as long as by “we” he means he’s taking Miss ‘Wouldn’t Know a Great Outfit if it Smacked Her in the Sourpuss Face’ with him. Maybe they’ll find seats by Mister ‘I Lick Ashtrays for Fun.’ That should be a fun party; they all deserve each other.”

That’s my girl.

“Presley, sugar, what about you?” We all take a collective, baited breath as we await her reply.

“Make ittworounds of beers, and seriously, promise you’ll check on the malpractice for that nose and we’ve got a deal.” Princess P gets in another jab.

Sutton leans in to the guy’s face and growls. “You heard the boss, two rounds. And if you don’t find other seats, too fucking bad. Don’t come back. I’m done talking tonight. I’m on a strict ‘kick ass, ask later’ basis now.”

They scamper away with their tails between their legs and I finally exhale. No jail cells tonight—bonus.

“Sutton Ellis, you behemoth chunk of man meat,” Presley turns her flirtallthe way up, “all this badass, intimidation shit is sexy as fuck.You’remy ride home tonight, stud.”

“I’m on a Harley,” he grins.

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