Page 43 of Raine Out (Grand Slam 2)

“I told you how I knew Sophie an hour ago,” Allie says, rolling her eyes. “Do you have a memory problem?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Allie. There are other people at the table.”

“Yeah, most of us are college. Hey, I’m Serena. That’s Taylor and Ava. How do you know Sophie?”

“We grew up together in Chicago.”

“Has she always been as big of a pain in the ass as she is now?” Savannah says, pouring herself a shot of tequila.

“Damn, Savannah. You’re a slow learner,” I say, turning toward her, my arms crossed. “I’m trying to figure out why you’re at her wedding. Do you even like Sophie?”

She slams the shot. “She’s fine. She just always has to get her way.”

Taylor grabs my arm. “She’s jealous of Sophie. She has been since the second she met her.”

“It’s more than jealous,” Serena laughs. “Savannah wants to be her, especially now that she has Seb.”

“I’m not jealous of her,” Savannah says, pouring another shot. “And I definitely don’t want to be her. Have you heard how she talks to Seb? It’s so cringy. Seriously, it’s only a matter of time before he gets sick of it. I’d be surprised if they even make it to the altar on Saturday.”

“Hmm,” I say, tapping my lips, “it sounds like you’re rooting against the marriage.”

“I’m not rooting for or against anything. I don’t care either way. I just don’t like the way she talks to him.”

“Please, he’s way worse than her. He’s always cooing baby talk to her,” Ava says. “And you’re just jealous that he doesn’t talk to you like that, Van.”

“You’ve got a little crush on Seb, huh?” I say, laughing as I look at Savannah who’s glaring at Ava.

“I don’t have a crush on Seb.” She whips her head toward me. “I’m happily married.”

“It’s cool,” I say. “Crushes are fine as long as you don’t mistake them for reality. And Seb seems awesome—very crush-worthy.”

“Whatever,” Savannah snarls. “Can we just start the game?”

“Let’s go,” I say. “But fair warning, I never lose any game.”

“You’re a lot of talk for as small as you are,” Savannah says, pointing to the bottle. “I’m doubting you’re even going to make it through the first round.”

“Like I said,” I say, grabbing the bottle, “fuck around and find out.”

As I start chugging, a hand from behind me grabs the bottle and pulls it away from me.

“That’s plenty for you,” Butch says as he pulls me up by my arm. He points at Savannah. “What’s your name? Samantha? Believe me, you don’t want to fuck around and find out. Raine’s small, but deadly—like a murder hornet.”

“My name’s Savannah, not Samantha,” she says, scowling at him. “Is this your boyfriend, Raine? Or does Sophie have some hidden family from the redneck south?”

“Da-a-a-mn,” Butch says, throwing in an extra dose of Southern twang, “you’ve got a mouth on you, Stephanie.”

“My name’s Savannah!”

“No one cares what your name is,” Butch says as she stands up and tries to grab the bottle back from him. He holds it over her head and out of her reach.

“The only way you get a swig is if you let Uncle Butch pour it for you,” he says, tilting the bottle. “Open up.”

She jumps out of the way—an annoying pouty look on her face. I want to slap it off her.

“Give me the bottle.” She holds her hand out as she takes another step back.

Butch lunges toward her and pours a little tequila out. I jump over, push her out of the way, and catch the tequila. Most of it goes into my mouth. I lick the rest off my chin and look at Savannah. “I’m fast, too. Small, deadly, and fast. Come at me again. I dare you.”

Savannah sits back down. “No, thank you. I’d rather not see or talk to either of you for the rest of this trip.”

“Same, sister. Same,” I say, taking a step toward her. Butch picks me up around the waist and starts to carry me away. I look back at the table. “It was nice meeting you Serena, Taylor, and Ava. Not so much you though, Savannah.”

“Damn, girl,” Butch laughs as he puts his hand over my mouth. “I leave you alone for thirty minutes and you’re already causing trouble. Settle down there, little Murder Hornet.”

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