Page 93 of Forty

I’ve run into Roosevelt at Larry’s while we were both getting follow-ups. Roosevelt was almost killed by the Rebel Raiders when they tried to kidnap Fay-Lee. He’s a nice guy. An Italian from Pyle. We knew a lot of people in common.

“Think I should go?”

“Hell, yeah. I keep telling you that you’re welcome at the clubhouse.”

“I keep telling you that you’re wrong.”

“Okay. Say I’m wrong. You okay with that? Your future husband belonging to a club that doesn’t want you around?”

“I’m not gonna ask him to choose between his friends and his family and me.” For one, it’s messed up. For two, I’m not sure who he’d choose. He might not know either.

“I think you should roll up like a boss bitch, and when Harper or Cheyenne or whoever runs their mouth, pop ‘em in the face.”

“Solve it with violence?”

“It has worked for me in the past.” Fay-Lee taps her nose. “Strength respects strength.”

“I haven’t won a physical fight in my life. And I have been in more than a few.” There have been some draws, like when Aaron’s ex and I figured out he was videotaping us, and we joined forces to beat his ass—that didn’t make it onto PornX, of course.

“You’ll have back up this time.”

“Aw. You’d fight Harper Ruth with me?” My chest warms.

“I’ve been itchin’ to snatch that bitch bald for years,” Fay-Lee snickers.

“What bitch?”

A shadow falls over me. I spin the lounger, squint into the sun.

No freakin’ way. It’s Harper Ruth. She snuck up on us from the side of the house. And she brought her whole squad. Annie Holt. Danielle. Cheyenne.

Forty’s heading toward us. He looks as surprised as I feel.

A pit forms in my stomach.

Fay-Lee paddles over to me. Shirlene perks up in her chair. They’re lined up on the edge of the pool, a row of hard-bitten mean girls with their impeccably styled queen bee. Harper’s bright red lipstick and smoky eye are flawless. Her shimmery white tank tucks smoothly into red capris that perfectly match the shade of the soles of her high-heeled shoes.

She is so overdressed for a pool party.

“You,” I answer her question. “You’re the bitch.”

Her eyes narrow.

“And this is a private party. You can see your way out.”

Forty’s made his way to the pool, and he stands by the ladder, face stone, arms crossed. Guess he’s leaving this up to me. I don’t feel abandoned, though. If I say the word, he’ll throw them out on their ass. He’s mine again. If they test it, they’re gonna learn.

Harper draws in a long-suffering breath. “We were instructed to come make nice with you. So you’ll grace us with your presence this evening at the clubhouse.”

I wait. That’s it. She doesn’t have anything to add.

“Non-apology not accepted.”

Fay-Lee holds up a palm. I give her the high five. Shirlene snorts.

“Listen. We’re all adults here. Except you, Daddy’s Little Girl.” Harper flashes Fay-Lee her freakishly white teeth. “We don’t have to like each other. But we do have to get along.”

“I see no reason. I can happily continue existing without you in my life.”

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