Page 119 of Cherry Beats

She was stunning, and she didn’t look a day over forty, which was impossible given how old her son was.

“And you are?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Here at just the right time, by the looks of things,” she answered snootily, her perfect little button nose a slender version of Presley’s. She was the female version of him in every way, apart from the attitude. “Presley? Can we take this to your dressing room?”

“Do we have a choice?” Presley sighed heavily, throwing a casual arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him. As much as I appreciated his protectiveness, I also wanted to show them both that I could stand strong on my own.

Peeling his arm off me, I entwined my fingers with his and dropped our joined hands between us, looking back at Olivia West like the true picture of unity.

I caught sight of Julia rushing towards us, her usual mask of cool gone the moment she realised Olivia was standing in front of Presley.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Presley,” Olivia told her son, a delicate smile delivering more contempt than it should have been capable of.

“When you’re around, Mum, it always ends up being the hard way. Let’s cut the shit and get this over with.”

“Splendid.” She smiled sweetly.

Julia reached us just as Olivia turned around, and she looked at me apologetically. That told me all I needed to know. Whatever this was, it was about to get rough.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

We’d barely made it into the dressing room when Olivia turned on her heels—her movements so precise and smooth, a little knot of envy wound its way through me.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Have I?” Presley sighed, walking over to the collection of drinks laid out for him. “Hadn’t realised.”

“The fifty missed calls weren’t enough?”

“I tend to block nuisance calls.”

Dicky, Julia, Olivia, and I watched as Presley twisted the cap off a miniature Jack Daniels, tossed it to the side, and drained the whiskey in one hit.

“Still drinking, I see,” Olivia said with a judgmental tone.

Presley spun around, the empty bottle still wedged between his fingers. “Still breathing, I see.”

“How dare you?” she hissed. “Today, of all days.”

“What do you want, Mum?” he asked, turning back to the drinks in front of him, his hand hovering over a few before he went to the back and picked up a bottle of Budweiser from the cooler. He twisted the top off and dropped it on the table before he turned back to her and rested his arse on the edge.

“Have you forgotten what day it is?”

“Nope.”

“Then youknowwhy I’m here.”

“Still nope.” He took a slow sip of his beer, never taking his eyes off his mother when he lowered it back down. “You’ve never been interested in all the years before. Can’t understand why you would be now.”

Olivia looked my way briefly. Her cheeks flaming before she turned back to her son and took a few steps forward. “Can we do this in private?”

Presley pressed his lips together and offered her a flat smile as he shook his head.

“Jesus Christ, Presley, you’re just like your father. Stubborn and reckless and—”

“If you’re trying to insult me,” he interrupted, “I should warn you that accusing me of being like my old man is the highest compliment you could give.”

“You want to throw your life away like he did?”

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