Page 78 of Second Sets Omnibus
“For the love of God, don’t fucking move. I’ll take care of this,” I hiss under my breath, running my fingers across my throat threateningly because I will cut them if they move an inch. That’s not a threat. That’s a goddamn promise.
“Is this foreplay?” Rad asks, leaning on the bar and winks. “Do the sexy thing with my throat again. I love it when you suffocate me with your pussy!” he says louder than necessary, leaning over to glare at Van standing ten feet away. Heatenvelops my whole body when I bury my face in my hands with a groan.
Van’s entire body locks up, and his fingers curl into tight fists on the bar top. Clueing me into how much Rad’s words affected him. But that’s the only indication he heard Rad’s words.
“Go before you unleash the beast,” Rad murmurs, narrowing his eyes at Van like he wants to slap him upside the head.
Me too, pal. Me friggin, too.
“Van,” I say, raising a brow. “How can I help you?”
Van bites his lip, looking around the bar. “So, this is the other place you work?” His fingers drum along the top of the bar with impatience as he peers around, finally looking at the four idiots who glare daggers at him.
I scoff. “Yeah, the whole time we dated, you knew exactly where I worked and never visited. What is up with that?” Not that I’m bitter or anything, but still. He can’t just waltz into my place of business months after we broke up and expect me to fall back into his arms.
He frowns, scrunching up his face. “I was always busy. You know that.” He waves a hand, once again staring in their direction, just asking for a damn beat down.
“Busy, right,” I mumble, rubbing my temple in irritation. I’ve been working all day, plus school, and I don’t have time for Van Drake’s shit tonight.
“So, you’re really hanging out with them?” Van asks, leaning against the bar and tilting his head. “Like for real?”
“I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with your shit tonight, Van. Yes. I like them. Are they assfaces? Absolutely! But I enjoy their company. Get that through your thick skull,” I say with a groan.
“I’m just… I’m just looking out for you, River. I’m trying to keep you safe. I don’t trust them.” He shakes his head, running ahand down his face. “I’m just…” I hold up my hand, meeting his desperate eyes.
“Once again, thanks for your concern. But you have to let it go, Van. Like… are you following me to work? Watching me? You’re becoming kind of stalkerish.”
He rolls his eyes. “Right, me looking out for you is stalkerish? One day, Rivey. You’ll see, and then you’ll thank me for it. Until then, I’ll be around,” he says with one last long look and then walks out the front door with a huff.
“So, fucking weird,” I mumble as Ode comes to my side and shakes her head.
“What the hell is up with that?”
“No friggin idea. He’s been acting weird since I started hanging with them,” I say, jabbing a thumb over my shoulder, aiming at the boys.
“Well, you might want to get back. Booker is here and talking their ear off. He’s probably asking them if they’re treating you right and wrapping it before they tap it. Then he’ll go into the whole spiel about you being the daughter he never wanted, and if they hurt you, he’ll castrate them and mount their dicks on the wall,” Ode snickers when my face falls, and I swivel around to face the horror show.
Somehow in the past two minutes, the owner of Dead End has snuck in without being detected, setting his sights on Whispered Words. I watch in horror, my jaw falling open as they listen to Booker intently, nodding their heads to whatever he’s saying. No fear crosses their faces. Instead, they smile and high-five each other with excitement.
“Hey, Booker,” I say with a slight wave, interrupting their chatter.
Booker’s dark eyes meet mine in amusement, nodding in greeting.
“Hey, kid,” he says in a gruff voice, running a hand through his long dark hair and pulling it over his shoulder. “I was talking to the band that packed the place a few weeks ago.” Something evil sparks in his eyes, and my stomach drops.
“He says we were good, Pretty Girl,” Rad says with a grin, easing some of my tension.
My cheeks flare red when Booker raises a knowing brow. “They were pretty good,” Booker reaffirms with a nod. “That’s why I just offered them the Celebration stage in a month.”
My eyes widen at his offer. Not just any band gets to represent Dead End at the Celebration Street Festival. That stage is usually reserved for bigger names, drawing the crowd to our tiny little section of the festival. We have a tent, a stage, beer, and lots of food to sell to the thousands of people walking the streets and enjoying the festivities.
But we’re not the only attraction drawing people in. Food vendors from around the country, musicians, crafts, the carnival, and so much more line the ten-block downtown area for one weekend a year. It’s our biggest investment and the biggest moneymaker. It’s make it or break it. So, seeing Booker invite Whispered Words to our little corner of the world is shocking.
My eyes widen. “The celebration?” I question through a breath, confirming I heard him correctly. “Wait! What happened to Break? I thought the times were full?”
“Break took off to New York,” Booker says, scratching his scruffy chin and pulling at his beard.
“So, now we’re going to fill their shoes!” Rad throws his fist in the air with excitement. “We’ll be high on the stage in front of thousands of people!”
