Page 2 of Bounty
I pursed my lips, the green-eyed monster creeping in. It wasn’t like me to get jealous, but then again, my mother rarely meddled in my sister’s love life.
“It isn’t like you to play matchmaker, Mother,” I said with a pissy little sniff, unable to keep my thoughts to myself.
Hands on hips, she squinted at me. “That’s enough, Effie Monroe. Get off your frigging high horses. Your sister can’t attend and asked you to switch. You agreed. Deal with it.”
Clueless about me as usual.
Mom lived in her own little world where bikers, billionaires, and bad boys did anything for the women who loved them. Be it spending extravagant amounts, protecting them from any and every threat, or giving them earth-shattering orgasms, nothing was out of reach if it meant their special ladies were happy.
I wondered what she did with Dad.
Then I tried my bestnotto wonder and refused to let an iota of repulsive speculation enter my brain.
“I’m just surprised you thought to set up Cassie with Slice.”
Guilt crossed her face and she walked to me, then sat on the edge of my bed. She glanced over her shoulder. “Your dad doesn’t know,” she whispered. “Neither does Cass, but I don’t like Chad. I think he cheated on her.”
Duh.
Chad was always cheating on Cassie. Her life of denial was what made her so irresponsible. She was twenty-five years old and had dated that asshole since she was seventeen. She knew nothing but him and wasn’t keen on expanding her horizons.
A month after they met, he hit on me at my thirteenth birthday party. When I told her, she refused to believe me. Until he flipped it and accused me of flirting with his raggedy ass.
In that motherfucker’s dreams.
It was then the animosity between Cassie and me began. We’d been quite close once, but she had it in her head that I wanted her man. She ignored his many red flags and placed the blame elsewhere. In that way, she was just as toxic as him, so maybe they were perfect for each other.
A match straight out of hell.
“I don’t think Slice is Cassie’s type,” I blurted. If Mom had a little more awareness about me, my annoyance would’ve given me away.
Mom waved the words away. “Slice is a model, sweetheart. I think she’d love his glamorous lifestyle.”
Like I said, Mom lived in her own world. How was it possible for a woman so reliant on social media for reader and fan engagement to be ignorant of the fact that her favorite model was an actual outlaw biker?
Minutiae overwhelmed her. She rarely handled her socials. It was another task relegated to me. Not that I minded. I was a marketing major with a passion for photography. Helping my mom builtmyportfolio and gave me real world experience.
“Daria!” Dad called from the small hallway that separated the bedrooms. His footsteps pounded against the hardwood floor until he reached my door and walked into my room. “Hi, honey,” he said to me.
“Hey, Dad.”
Perfunctory greeting out of the way, he gazed at Mom, his hazel eyes practically morphing into hearts.
My parents adored each other. Mom often said she wrote to give the world a taste of real love. They’d been married for three decades, raised three children—my older brother lived in NYC—and were still desperately in love.
I believed that was why Cassie stuck it out with Chad. She thought he’d suddenly turn into our strait-laced businessman father. Never would happen, but she refused to listen to any of us.
Twisting an escaping curl around her finger, Mom stood and casually walked to Dad. She whispered to him, and he chuckled.
Mom turned to me. “Effie, if you really don’t want to come, Lennon is happy to serve as my assistant.” She indicated Dad with a flourish of her tanned hand.
I laughed nervously, not wanting to tip my hand. What she missed, Dad would home in on and the fallout would affect Slice.
One, I didn’t want Slice to lose Mom’s gig. Two, I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to spend time with him. He’d been my ultimate crush for over a year now, and I desperately wanted to get closer to him. Whether he knew how down bad I was, I couldn’t say. Until recently, he’d kept in touch fairly regularly, so that meant something.
Right?
I hadn’t heard from him in about a month. I wasn’t sure why he’d ghosted me. Mom crossed all her ‘Ts’ and dotted all her ‘Is’ whenever she attended a signing, but MMM was like one big family and popular with the readers. No doubt she spoke to himtodaybefore she told me. Obviously, he had no problem answering her.
