Page 90 of Desert Loyalties
The days of watching ourselves are over. No more playing small. No more quiet rooms and careful words.
It is time to become the VP.
Not a VP. The VP.
Skye hears the finality in my voice, something that does not ask permission. She nods once. She’s been waiting for this version of me to show up.
Ramon is still swinging his champagne around, a sword in his hand. The crowd is loud, but there is a shift. A feeling. People watching me differently. This is not just a party. It is a coronation.
From here on out, we do not beg. We do not explain. We walk in. We own the room. Because we do.
Skye moves to start pouring shots again, lining up drinks for anyone within reach. The old ladies drift toward her, bypassing me with warm smiles and firm pats on the shoulder.
Everyone’s talking at once. Laughter, stories, voices layered over music that never drops.
I head toward my boys. More pats on the back. congrats or respect, I can't tell. For coming back, or just putting on one hell of a show.
Lehi presses a full glass into my hand.
I raise it without thinking.
“To freedom,” I say.
They cheer. They scream. Someone beats the table like a drum.
We party like we’ve never partied before. Full throttle. No brakes. Somewhere deep into the night, Skye wanders over and sinks onto my lap. She doesn’t say a word, just settles in, warm and calm, her breathing steady against my chest.
Between her heat and the hum of the room around us, I fall asleep.
Next thing I know, someone’s shaking me awake. Ranger.
“Hey,” he says, voice low but urgent. “Christina’s on her way. Wants to talk to you. Said it’s important. Didn’t say what.”
I blink, groggy, my mouth dry. “When’s she getting here?”
“Twenty.”
Shit. I nod. “Alright.”
Skye’s still out cold, curled against me. I shift her gently, lifting her in my arms, and head upstairs to my room.
Halfway up the stairs, Skye stirs in my arms.
Her eyes flutter open, voice scratchy with sleep. “What time is it?”
“Early. Ranger just woke me up; Christina’s on her way. Said it’s important.”
That pulls her fully awake. She slides out of my arms and walks beside me, both of us moving like we’re still underwater. We don’t say much. No need to. We’re in sync, even hungover.
Together, we get ready, washing the night off our skin, scrubbing away the booze, the sweat, the fire from twelve hours ago.
By the time Christina’s car pulls into the clubhouse lot, we’re already downstairs, posted in Ranger’s office. The door’s cracked, the air thick with anticipation. Skye’s sitting next to me, alert.
Christina walks in alone.
Ranger follows, closing the door behind them with a softclick. No one speaks.
Christina doesn’t sit. It’s like she’s too keyed up.
