Page 33 of West Bound

My phone rings, shattering the most amazing dream I think I’ve ever had. The ringing continues and my hand searches the nightstand for it, flopping around like a dying fish. I connect with nothing but a bare surface. When the ringing stops, I bury my face into the pillow and try to fall back into the bliss that was my fantasy.

My dick is rock hard and I palm it, wondering if I should get up and finish myself off in the shower. I say fuck it and slide my hand inside of my boxer briefs right before the ringing starts up again.

“Fuck,” I growl and kick the sheets off of me. I try to remember what I did with my phone last night but everything is foggy.

The last thing I remember was throwing back one too many shots after watching Rami continue to flirt with and touch Vivian. She ate it up, batting her eyelashes at him, sucking on her straw like it was his fucking dick. If I’d have had to watch her walk out the door with him, I probably would’ve thrown myself into speeding traffic. But luckily my life was spared when CeCe came over to her, visibly upset. They spoke in hushed voices, then she hugged her friend before standing and saying goodbye to Rami and the rest of the guys.

Rami looked like someone had popped his balloon when she walked away. Good, I thought. There is no way in hell I’m going to let that asshole get that close to her again. How I’m going to keep him away is something I have yet to figure out. Especially since she hates me.

Or at least that’s what she likes to tell me. The last shot I took did nothing in terms of spurring on any genius ideas of how to keep Rami’s hands off of her. The one thing it did accomplish was thoroughly knocking me on my ass. I’m not even quite sure how I got to my room.

But I’m here, thankfully alone, and now I just need to find my goddamn phone so I can yell at whoever has pulled me from my dream of fucking Vivian.

I find my pants thrown in the corner and figure that that would be the most likely place for my phone. Digging through the pockets, I find it and turn the screen over just as the ringing stops and the screen goes black.

“Ugh.” I tap the screen and it lights up, showing me I have five missed calls and several more texts.

Unlocking it, I see the calls and texts are from my niece and immediately dial her back.

“Uncle Nix,” I hear her sniffle.

“Ana. What’s the matter? Are you okay? Is your mom okay?” I’m frantic, spinning in a circle in my hotel room because there is only one reason why she’d be calling me so early and so many times.

“Yeah. I-I,” she chokes on her sobs and now my chest feels tight with fear.

“You what, Ana? Please talk to me. I’m freaking out.” I quit chasing my tail like a damn dog, and plop down on the edge of my bed.

“C-can I come visit you? Mom and me…we had a fight and I just really–” her words are cut off by her crying again, and I breathe a small sigh of relief now that I know she’s not physically hurt.

Wait. “Ana, are you hurt?”

She hiccups and I hear her blow her nose. “No. Not unless you count my broken heart.” Her crying picks up again and I throw myself back on the bed.

“Oh, Ana.” I can only imagine what the argument was about, but that clue gives me a pretty good idea. “I don’t think running away from your mom to another state is the best idea. Where’s your dad?”

My sister and her ex-husband divorced several years ago when he decided to pursue his lifelong dream of becoming a professional poker player. At first, my sister supported him. But then she realized he was a shit player and was losing all of their money at the tables every weekend. She gave him the ultimatum of going back to his good paying job as construction foreman, or continue pretending he was good at winning and lose her.

Obviously he chose poker. And he hasn’t improved one bit since he left that day, all those years ago.

“He’s in Vegas for some tournament.”

Of course he is.

“Well I still don’t know that you should be up and leaving right before school is set to start. You should be getting ready for the first day of your senior year.” I hear her huff out a breath. “Besides…the fight couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Your sister is a raging bitch,” she shouts.

“Hey. Watch your mouth, Anais. I may be your uncle, but she’s your mother and my sister and I’ll be damned if you disrespect her like that. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

I scrub my hand over my face and wonder if Sierra would let her come for a few days to allow them both a cool down.

I sigh. “Look. I’ll talk to your mom and see if she’d be okay with you coming for a visit for a couple of days.”

“Really?” her chipper voice says, showing no sign of the distress she was in a moment ago.

“For a couple days, Ana. You have school to prepare for. And if she says yes, you’re going to tell me what the hell you two were fighting about. Then, you’re going to go home, apologize for being a brat to your mother, and get ready for your last first day of high school.”

---