Page 93 of Rival
“You cocky sonofabitch!” I’m already launching my drunk ass over the table before I’ve even finished shouting.Thistime, Mason actually helps instead of hindering me by clearing the glasses out of my way. Wrapping my hands around Jaxon’s throat, I ride to the floor with him as his chair tips straight back. “Since when are you such a hateful motherfucker? You’re actin’ like you’re pissed at all of usandher!”
Throwing up must have cleared his head because the hits I’m getting pummeled with hurt like a bitch. Mason, againsuperhelpfully, slaps him across the cheek.Hard.Jaxon stops, stunned that he was just bitch-slapped like that.
“Answer. Why are you this mad? How the fuck do you not know anything about today if ya’ll aresuchgood friends?” Mason snarls down at him.
“Shit!” Jaxon shouts, then scrambles out from under me, then quickly smirks at the way I tumble to the side, whacking my head on the corner of the table in the process. “Ruth!” he adds, not clearing a goddamn thing up.
“Ya’ll good over there?” Paul hollers from behind the bar where he’s working on a crossword puzzle. Hesoundsbored, not even looking in our direction, but I know he’s very aware of everything happening over here.
“My head fuckin’ hurts!” I call back, rubbing away the pain.
“Who the hell is Ruth?” These may be the first words tonight where Masondoesn’tsound pissed. He seems just as confused as I am.
This whole fucking night has been a shitshow and I swear to God, I’m about to call it a night.
Lifting his chair, Jaxon sits back down, paying no mind to the trickle of blood from a split in his lip.Damn, I don’t remember doin’ that. I raise a brow at Mason, tipping my head in question toward Jaxon as he scrolls through his phone. Mason simply shrugs.
Shame I missed it.I’ve been dabbing at my nose for a bit, and Mason’s got a touch of blood near his brow, but thankfully the whiskey is making this all fairly pain free. I doubt either of them are feeling much either. Except my fucking head.Christ, it hurts.
Dismissively, Jaxon holds his phone to his ear before finally answering us. “Ruth Danielson. She’s the pastor’s wife. Called me about fifty times today but I ignored them after she started talking about Edith. I hung up on her, actually.” There’s a hint of regret in his voice, but I don’t know him well enough to know for sure.
“Why the hell would you hang up on her?” Mason roars and I’m irate all over again.Has she been over there this whole time?
Blinking slowly at us like we’re morons, he says, “Because I didn’t know she was Clay’s daughter. You know, the guy who fucking killed my sister?” That last question was aimed directly at me, but I hit back.
“What the fuck’s that got to do with Edith?” Opening his mouth to explain, he hesitates, then presses his lips together. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” It comes out under my breath, but fuck this guy for ignoring her.
“I’m calling them now.”
“You do that. Takeallthe time you want. I’m just gonna go over there,” Mason growls, storming toward Paul. “Need my keys, man.”
“Nnnnnnope. Wait for the call first.” Paul doesn’t even look up. I chuckle because apparently, he’s been following along a lotcloser than I realized. No way the rest of the town doesn’t know about what went down by brunch tomorrow.
“Ruth, I’m sorry for—”
The louder the voice grows through the phone, the higher my brows rise. Mouthing, “What the fuck did you do to her?” I’m not even sure if I’m asking about Ruth or Edith at this point. I wait until Ruth, I assume, finishes her speech before Jaxon can answer.
His shoulders droop as he nods his head slowly to himself. “She alright, though? And there with you?… Ruth, you’re not even gonna tell me if she’s there?”
“Now can I have my keys?” Mason shouts over his shoulder to Paul. Fucking asshole ignores him and Mason is about to crawl out of his skin, pacing between our table and the bar.
Sighing, Jaxon groans, “Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker.” Setting his phone down, Ruth delivers a little speech before hanging up.
“Not a single person is coming over here tonight. I can hear one of you shoutin’ and you’ll wake the devil with all that racket. Lord knows we don’t need him to show up tonight. It’s practically midnight, and I’ll send Josiah out with his shotgun at the first sign of trespassers. Jaxon, I hope your head hurts in the morning. Find Jesus at the bottom of your glass and have a good loooong talk with him.”
Click.
We’re all silent as we stare at the phone.
I’m the first to break the silence. “Who the fuck is Ruth?”
“God, you’re so fuckin’ drunk,” Mason grumbles.
“Ya’ll ain’t gettin’ your keys. Ruth said so! Best finish off the bottle. I’m chargin’ everyone triple for my time, by the way,” Paul hollers happily.
With a sigh, knowing we aren’t going anywhere tonight, I stumble to Paul and grab fresh glasses, then bring them back to the table.
“Pour,” Mason grumbles, dropping into his chair heavily, pouting like a fucking self-absorbed tween not getting his way.
