Page 230 of Vicious Saint
No mercy for anyone. Not even Levi who’s hunched over and panting next to the rest of the civil servants.
“Now that’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ about,” Coach punches my arm. “My boy is back.”
“Your boy’s also punished pricks for less than doubting me.”
“Don’t go swingin’ your cock just yet, Lavell. You still got more to prove without room for error.”
Coach walks off, stealing not only my rebuttal, but the towel around my neck, spinning it in the air. It’s a petty show of power, since the asshole knows I don’t do community linens.
“Looks like someone’s got his groove back.” Levi approaches my side, holding out a clean towel.
I swipe it from his hand. “Never lost it, dick. Just neglected it.”
“Mhmm.” He eyes something over my shoulder. “And what about her?”
Like a full blown masochist, I follow Levi’s sight to the bleachers, where Hendrix is walking across them still in uniform with Archer. As always, my Jimi Hendrix tries to pretend she doesn’t notice me, this time behind a huge pair of round sunglasses.
I, however, gave up on the subtleties after we shared a look the other day by the tables. The three seconds it lasted being the most Hendrix has granted me in fucking forever.
It took every modicum of self-control I had left to not do something stupid like march over to Hendrix and force her to kiss me. Maybe then I’ll know why losing her is making me feel like I’m dying.
“Just go the fuck over to her already, man.” Levi shakes his head. “At least make shit right so you can be civil for your family.”
“Can’t.”
“Can.”
My teeth are bared and aimed at him. “Fucking can’t and you know it.”
“Then what about Theory?” he argues. “At least come clean so she’ll get off Hendrix’s back. Swear her to secrecy or some shit until you figure things out.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “You stay acting like you don’t know my little sister. Like you two weren’t best friends as kids just as much as we were.”
Something about what I said has Levi cracking his neck.
Probably the shock of common sense.
“What the fuck’s your point?”
“My point is, dumb ass, that the second I explain to Theory why I told her about Hendrix, how bad she really felt about whatshe said and everything in between, first thing she’s gonna do is run to the girl and try to be sisters again.”
He purses his lips. “Yeah…you can’t have that.”
“No, I fucking can’t.” Slapping the towel down on the bench, I add, “At least not yet.”
After a swift glance at Hendrix and Archer lost in homework, he pops his lips. “Guess there’s no point in telling you about Archer’s party then.”
“Party? When did this shit come about?”
And how the fuck didn’t I hear about it?
“No clue. I heard Theory and Annalie talking about how they’re crashing a party Archer’s throwing on his family's yacht tomorrow. I think by Crescent Point.” He shrugs. “Seems like you and me didn’t make the cut.”
As if that’ll fucking stop me.
Good Guy and his endless drunken festivities lately.
I’ve got to say he’s forming quite a resemblance to the missing Royal Heathen he despises.
