Page 25 of Elusive

“Jefferson,” Bellamy gasps, swatting his arm. “You can’t talk to a woman like that.”

“Thank y-”

“But I can,” Bellamy cuts Hailey’s moronic ass off and edges in menacingly close. “Mind telling me who you are, exactly, and what your problem is? Strike that, I don’t care if you mind. Tell me anyway.”

“Bellamy, I appreciate it, won’t forget it, but let it go, girl. Crazy loves company, don’t give her any.” Presley wrenches Hailey’s hand from her arm, then tries to pull Bellamy back, but gets brushed off faster than JT just did with his attempt to do the same.

“Like hell I’ll let it go! Sutton, why are you just standing there, allowing this? Presley, why are you allowing this? Has everyone lost their fucking mind?” Damn, Bellamy’s spunky.

“Baby,” JT tries again, hand on her lower back. “Not your problem, P can handle it. Come on, let’s go get some air. Brynny, you too. No one gets to ruin your night, Lord knows when you’ll get another one.”

“Yes, you little girls should listen to him. My issue isn’t with you, so mind your own business.” Hailey just doesn’t know when to quit.

I move to intervene, only a single step taken when shit gets so real, it’s unreal. One of those “had to see it to believe it” moments. Brynn, yeah, Brynn, surges forward in warrior mode, and jabs a finger right in Hailey’s face. Literally pokes her in the nose. Brynn. The youngest, sweet, quiet one. Pokes her in the damn nose. “I don’t need to know, and don’t care, who you are. I do know what I’m seeing. Insecurity. Classic, misplaced insecurity, which you’re projecting onto my cousin, in the form of bitchiness. Waste of time, and dignity. It won’twin Sutton over. I mean, seriously, how many of those God-awful teen movies do they have to make where the malicious, popular priss tries the same thing you are and it doesn’t work before you dummies catch on? Although, I do love me some Mean Girls.”

“She doesn’t even go here,” Bellamy plugs in… no clue what it means, but she laughs.

“I’m not trying to embarrass or belittle you, but attacking Presley won’t make Sutton want you. He either does or he doesn’t. And speaking of Presley, I’m not sure if she took a Valium or what, but that’ll only hold her off from kicking your ass for so long. I’m shocked you’re still standing, in her dad’s club. You’re on her turf, and obviously blessed by several angels, so stick an extra ‘thank you’ in your prayers tonight and knock it off! And Sutton,” Brynn pivots, stabbing me with a deserved scowl, “man up! Set this one straight, like ten minutes ago, or stay away from my cousin, but quit trying to pussyfoot your way down two lanes of traffic at once!”

“Damn, Brynny,” JT sputters with pride, “how long you been sitting on that?”

“Needed to be said,” she mutters, seemingly used up all her gusto.

Camden tactically maneuvers himself, seeing to it that Brynn can get a punch off if she wants, but Hailey would only hit him, dare she asininely try. JT notices, hiding his pleased smile in Bellamy’s hair.

And I make strides, literally, and finally, figuratively. “Hailey, can I talk to you privately please?”

“You can say whatever it is right here,” she spits, hands on her hips, eyes wild with… who the hell even knows anymore.

“Hailey, please. Let’s go someplace quiet.”

“Say it!” she screams, springing at me and banging both fists on my chest.

“Nope. We’re done. Had enough,” Presley decides the show is officially over, striking like a viper to manhandle Hailey into submission, carrying her toward the exit before I can blink. Or laugh. Fist pump. Stop her. Anything.

Never mind on the laugh. Thought just hit me — won’t Sawyer Beckett be thrilled when he hears about this. He’s got four bouncers on payroll tonight, yet his only daughter is ushering the troublemakers out the door. Awesome. I’m as good as fired. And possibly dead.

Then again, he might get a kick out of it… never can be sure with him.

“I guess I should follow them. I’m so, so sorry.” The friend, Manda was it, waves and calls over her shoulder as she darts off in the direction in which Hailey was escorted.

“Brynn,” my shame is a hushed grovel, “I tried.”

“Try harder!” she snaps. “JT, can Camden please give me a ride? Straight home, I swear. This isn’t fun anymore.”

“I don’t know, can he?” J flings daggers at Camden, asking in facetious warning.

“On my life.” Camden extends his hand for a shake. “Straight home.”

“Did you drink?” JT gnarls, while, we’ll call it returning the handshake, instead of the more accurate “doing his all to rip dude’s arm out of socket.”

“Not a drop. Dehydrates ya, makes training hell. Not worth it. Plus, didn’t want Brynn to feel left out.”

“Okay, I’m givin’ ya a shot, Major League. One. Shot. Fuck it up, I fuck you up. I’m texting Dad, Brynn, so he’ll know precisely when to expect you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Surprised you’re not already done typing, slacker. Camden, you ready? If you don’t mind, that is?”

“Not a bit. Y’all try to stay out of trouble,” he laughs, taking Brynn by the hand.

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