Page 19 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

I blink at him. “What? Absolutely none of those words make sense in the slightest. What the hell are you talking about?”

He scowls, and Brody just chuckles beside him. “I told you that wasn’t going to work. You’re not going to be able to weasel your way out of it.”

I turn and look at Abi who seems just as confused as me. “Do you know what the hell they’re going on about?”

He shrugs. “I am at a loss.”

Scotty sighs. “You can’t be mad at me, okay? I was just treating it as a wedding rehearsal of sorts.” When I turn around, I see a genuine look of fear on my friend’s face. “Plus, it’s for the best. I was only thinking of you.”

“Don’t lie,” Brody warns. “What have I told you about lying, baby?”

“Not helpful, Daddy,” Scotty says, sounding annoyed. “I’m not lying. It’s what they need. They’re never going to admit how they feel unless someone gives them a push, and I’ve never walked down an aisle before, so it was a win/win.”

“You pushed, alright,” Brody says, chuckling menacingly. “You practically shoved them over a cliff. Don’t pretend you did it for any other reason than?—”

“Why must you correct me at every turn?” Scotty interrupts. “For God’s sake, it’s downright cruel at this point. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” I say, my voice rising with irritation. I refuse to allow Scotty to derail the topic just so he can have a one-sided war with his fiancé.

Like a shitty soap opera, Scotty covers his face with his hands and suddenly starts sobbing loudly, shaking his shoulders. Iknow Scotty like the back of my hand. I know the sound of upset in his voice. This isn’t upset—it’s a bartering chip. A last-ditch effort to skirt out of harm’s way. Yeah, well, I’m not playing his game. My patience was already stick-thin when I walked into this hideous excuse for a front office, and after the unnecessary theatrics, it’s now nonexistent.

“Your fake tears mean nothing to me, Scotty Levinson. Pull yourself together and tell me what you did so we can move on to the ‘hope you cry, hope you die’ portion of the oncoming battle.”

When Scotty finally uncovers his face his eyes are dryer than the Sahara, as expected. His shoulders are shaking, so he’s clearly still trying to pull off the fearful deer-in-headlights act, but I’m not having it. Desperate times call for drastic measures. There, right in the center of the table, is Scotty’s favorite card. It’s one I bought him for his birthday. The Son of Starlight.

I quickly reach across the table and grab the card, holding it over my head. A small rush of pride washes over me as I see the panic in his eyes. Good. “Now, you’re going to stop pretending to cry, and you’re going to tell me what the fuck you’ve—” A gun cocks in the background, and when I tear my eyes away from Scotty, Brody’s got a handgun aimed at my head. I’ve had enough of his idiotic threats, so I guess he’s getting his share of my wrath as well. “No. Absolutely not. Put your gun away—I’m not doing this with you again.” When Brody makes no move to holster his gun, I realize I’m going to need to deliver on my threat. Holding the card in front of my chest, I begin the slow process of ripping it right down the middle.

“No!” Scotty screams, jumping up from his place on Brody’s lap. “Stop it, Tatum! That’s mine!”

I stop tearing the card long enough to glare at him. “Then spit it out.”

“Fine! Just put my card down,” he pleads. “Please, Tater Tot?”

I roll my eyes and wedge the card between my hip and the waistband of my jockstrap, because I’m not getting rid of myonly bargaining chip. With it securely tucked away, I hold my hand in front of me, offering him the metaphorical stage.

“So, you know I’ve been real scared about getting married, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. Pre-wedding jitters. I can’t say I blame you, considering the homophobic prick you’re marrying, but that’s neither here nor there. What about it?”

“Well, I kind of leaned into my unhinged side and did something I shouldn’t have. I wanted to see what it felt like before the big day. It was the day you and Kincaid went walking in the woods, three or four weeks ago. You remember. It was after I asked you to practice walking me down the aisle, and you said the only place you would be marching was into the wilderness so wolves could eat you, rather than listen to another word I said. Well, I was an emotional wreck, and you weren’t there to calm me down, so I did what I had to do. I had to practice somehow, so that’s the way I did it. Honestly, maybe I’m the one who should be angry, right now. I was verging on a nervous breakdown, and you did nothing to ease the tension. Fucking rude, Tatum.”

“I baked you pot brownies last week,” I remind him. “We had a girl’s night and everything. I braided your fucking hair, Scotty. Do you know how hard it is to braid a near buzzcut?”

“Okay, and ...? You think braiding my hair is going to ease my fear? Some friend you are. This is your fault, you know. If you’d shown an ounce of compassion, Brody and I wouldn’t have been forced to assume your identities and get a marriage license on your behalf, just so I could practice walking toward the Justice of the Peace. It wasn’t even good practice. The aisle was less than three feet long,” he says, flicking his finger back and forth between myself and Abi. “You forced my hand, so if you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at yourself.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Jerk.”

“I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but you can take that tone out of your voice?—”

Wait.

Did he just say . . .

“You did what?!” Abi’s shouts. He stands up from the chair bringing me along for the ride. I’ve never heard him this angry before, and knowing he’s just as upset as me makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst through my chest.

Scotty can’t be serious. There’s no way he’s done what he’s admitting to. It makes absolutely no sense.

“This can’t be real,” I say, though I’m mostly talking to myself.

“Tell me this is a joke.” Abi’s voice is fierce and full of venom. “Tell me you were simply pulling our legs and all will be forgiven. Say it, Scotty. Say it now.”

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