Page 212 of Vicious Saint
My mother’s delusional if she thinks I’ll be subjecting myself to Theory’s attitude, especially when it’s frowned on to slap it out of her.
“I…uh…”
A plethora of excuses run through my mind, but Saint’s eyes and how they’re grilling me makes it that much harder to settle on one.
This is the first time in weeks he’s made eye contact with me for more than a split second, and the jolt it has on my heart shows as I tell her, “Sorry, Archer and I are going out.”
“You are?” Mom quirks a brow.
“We are?” Archer mumbles right after.
With a forced smile on my face, I kick him. “Yup. And super excited about it.”
Saint’s stare only grows harsher the more I wing a bullshit answer to her question about where we’re going.
“Probably not the best idea, Hendrix.” Vic adds his unwanted two cents. “It’s too dangerous right now.”
Apparently not for his son who will be getting drunk, high, and God knows what else at some beach party in another borough.
So why should I be forced to lay low?
“Ah, yes.” I tap my chin. “Now tell me…why is that again?”
Both his and my mother’s lips straighten to offer silence.
“Exactlyyyyy.”
LACE.
One of the biggest nightclubs in Manhattan.
Granted, I could’ve chosen somewhere much lower key to forget my problems. But fuck it. Go big or go out to an awkward dinner.
Besides, what better way to do some forgetting than at a place Archer’s older brother Micah has friendly ties to?
Friendly ties equals friendly drinks on the low without question.
A courtesy I’ve been taking full advantage of for over an hour.
“Here!” I slap the beer I ordered down on the bar, where Carlo is hovering next to me like a needy toddler. “Let loose a little bit, man!”
“No, grazie, signorina!” He speaks over the music with a stern shake of his head.
“C’monnnnnnnn…!” I sway the bottle in front of him. “You know you want to. Hell,needto after putting up with me!”
Especially now that I’m passing tipsy, something I promised I wouldn’t do as long as he promised to keep his trap shut about me drinking.
“I’m,eh, very happy to be here with you.It’s-ehno problem!”
“Per favore?” I frown through the Italian version of “please”, in hopes it’ll win him over. Allow me a little breathing room to enjoy myself like my best friend who is shooting the shit with a couple guys, the closest one to him with hair color not far off from his.
Oh, there’s gotta be a joke in there somewhere.
What’s not a joke is how much fun he seems to be having, and how I hope it’s enough to keep Archer’s mind off whatever has him so stressed out.
The next song playing is a bit lower, allowing Carlo’s incessant need to defy me easier on his vocals.
“Maybe you should slow down,signorina,” he says as I take the final sip of my cranberry and vodka, then place it on the bar.
