Page 69 of Bedding Rose
We’re here to plan revenge.
I might need to scream just to get out the energy dancing through my veins right now.
We slowly make our way to a booth in the back corner where a huge, middle-aged bald man sits. He looks like he belongs on the WWE or some kind of wrestling show—his muscles are massive and intimidating, but they don’t appear to be just for show like a bodybuilder’s. He looks like he knows how to use them. The man lowers a menu and smiles at us, revealing a gold tooth. “Hey there,” he greets us, friendly enough, though there’s something about him that’s intimidating. If I weren’t with my boyfriend, I’d definitely turn and walk in the other direction.
“Mint, meet Rose. Rose, meet Mint.” Angelo’s introductions are brief as he nudges me to slide into the booth and then sits next to me.
A waitress comes over to take our orders and Angelo orders for me. Somehow, he knows I like strawberry shakes—a fact I’ll have to grill him about later because despite the years we’ve known each other, I seriously doubted he paid that much attention to me. The idea that he did shoots little sparkles right down to my toes.
He doesn’t let me order for him, of course, but I knew he’d get onion rings and a chocolate shake with his burger before the words even spilled from his lips.
Mint asks for some homemade green chile stew and tots. Then we reach the awkward silence phase of this dinner.
How do you ask a guy you don’t know to conduct illegal surveillance for you?
I have no frickin’ clue and so my eyes slide automatically over to the man next to me, who doesn’t seem anxious about this evening at all. If anything, he looks energized and excited.
Is excitement catching? Is that why I’m excited? Or am I really just a twisted sort of evil?I am—unbelievably, shockingly—excited to punish those nameless Alpha Tau frat boys who hurt me.
It’s been three nights since I’ve essentially moved in with Angelo, and I haven’t been able to sleep on his bed for any of them. I’m over the trembling that overtakes me whenever the sun sets and I stare at his mattress, willing myself to be over this already. Even though he’s changed the comforter and bought something floral just for me, I still can’t force my limbs to climb into that bed. I’m ready to end the fear, tired of waking up on a fucking couch with a crick in my neck—and I can only imagine how Angelo feels sleeping on the couch with me curled up on top of his chest every night.
Instead of launching right into our proposal, Angelo says, “Hey, Mint. My girl here likes to read.”
Immediately, the older man’s eyes light up and his entire face softens as he turns toward me, an almost childlike expression of delight on his face. All the intimidation I felt emanating from him dissolves when he asks, “Yeah? What’s your favorite?”
* * *
Three days later
We’re backin the exact same corner booth with Mint, this time, joking and laughing through our meal. After we ate, and Mint and I debated whether or notPillars of the Earthis indeed the best book of all time—spoiler alert: it is—he pulls out a manila envelope from his jacket and slides it onto the table.
I immediately stop reaching for my shake, hand freezing in midair.
When Angelo opens the envelope and pulls out a stack of candid photos of Alpha Taus going and coming from their frat house, an edgy, twitchy feeling hits me as everything solidifies. Reality hits. We’re actually doing this.
I search my chest for regret but can’t find a single ounce of it. I only sense eagerness and anticipation. With Angelo at my side, my anxiety has lessened, and I feel like an entirely new person, a woman who gives as good as she gets instead of just a coward who turns the other cheek and hopes not to get hit as hard the second time.
Angelo’s deep brown eyes sparkle with anticipation as he stares down at me and I give him a tentative smile in return. I feel crazy thinking it, but I love that we’re doing this together.
He wraps an arm around me and slides me across the bench seat until I’m tucked up against his side. Then he carefully sets down the stack of photos. “Show us,” he commands.
Flipping through the photos causes a physical reaction I don’t expect. Heat crawls up my neck until tiny beads of sweat drip down underneath my dark curls. Each flick of my wrist, each new face, causes my stomach to tighten painfully. Will I even remember what they look like? It was dark. I only heard one of their names and only barely remember it—panic took an eraser to entire portions of that evening. Mike or Mick … something like that.
But when I spot the first guy, it feels as if I’ve been doused in ice water. There’s no question. No hesitation. I slide his photo out from the pile and set it in the middle of the table.
Angelo plants a soft kiss in my hair before whispering, “Good job, lil reina. You don’t have to keep going. We can figure out the other one another time.”
I shake my head, despite the slight tremor in my fingers, because I don’t want to stop now. I want to finish this.
I only have to flip three more times before I see the second guy’s face. He’s paler than the other two. Skinnier. Shiftier looking. I yank his picture out and slide it out. “Him.” I’m surprised by the vitriol I manage to fit into that singular word.
Mint picks up the two photos and studies them. Then he slides the pictures into a pocket in his worn blue button-down shirt. “Want me to take care of them?”
“Nah, just collect them,” Angelo says as he slides out of the booth and then grabs onto my hand to help me follow him. “We’re going to take care of them ourselves. We have a plan.”
* * *
Two days later
