I snorted. “Explains a lot.” I imagined the three of them as kids, probably complete little assholes.
Bellamy parked at the back of the Wal-E-Mart lot, grabbing a random cart from an empty space before we headed toward the entrance. Something beeped behind me and I turned to see an old man in a mobility scooter, a camo baseball cap on his head, and denim overalls. No shirt beneath. And the best part of it was, he was wearing pink crocs.
I moved out of the way. He winked at me as he whizzed past.
Bellamy threw a loaf of bread in the cart, then a jar of peanut butter.
I followed him around the store, watching people trudge through the aisles, looking like life had completely drained them. Children screamed, sprinting around the massive store. It was just… like nothing I’d ever seen. Because I hadn’t. I hated to admit that I’d never even been in a supermarket. My mom and dad both had housekeepers who cleaned and did the food shopping. And I’d been boarding.
Bellamy chucked canned vegetables in. Vegetables in a can. I didn’t even know such a thing existed.
“Do me a favor,” Bellamy said, fishing a sack of coupons out of his pocket. “Tell me how much these are worth.”
I frowned at the coupons. The most they were worth was fifty cents off. These couldn’t amount to much more than ten bucks max. Instead of saying anything, I counted them. “Eight seventy-five.”
He entered the amount on his phone, then stared at the screen. I realized he was adding it up, working out exactly how much money he had, and with each passing moment an uncomfortable knot formed in my chest. He was dealing weed and stealing cars, risking jail, and he was still having to add up fifty-cent coupons to cover groceries.
We headed to the checkout and loaded the groceries onto the conveyor belt.
“Look, just let me buy it…” I said, hoping I didn’t offend him.
The last thing I wanted was for him to think I pitied him. Of course I did, but only because I cared about him. A lot.
“It’s fine.” He tossed a box of rainbow Push-Pops onto the checkout.
“It’s the least I could do. Just…” I waved him away, taking my Amex from my purse and handing it to the cashier. He glared when I passed the coupons to the lady.
I swiped my card and seconds later, she offered me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry ma’am, your card has been declined.”
Declined. Declined!
With a smile, I dug in my purse and handed her cash, my heart rate rising in an angry rhythm. That wasn’t my dad’s card. It was my mom’s. That meant one thing...She was on his side.
The cashier passed my change across, then my receipt before wishing us a Blessed Day as we headed to the exit.
We silently loaded the groceries into the trunk. I couldn’t believe she sided with my Dad. She hated him. After the groceries were tucked away, we placed the shopping cart in the corral, then went to get in the car.
Bellamy crawling across the passenger seat to the driver’s side, usually made me laugh, but not today.
“You okay?” he asked, backing out of the parking spot, then coming to an abrupt halt as the man in the scooter whizzed past.
“She sided with him.”
“What do you mean she sided with him?”
The car barreled over a speed bump before he turned onto the main highway.
“My mom’s cut me off, and that means she took Dad’s side. And she hates him.”
For Irina to agree with William, hell must have frozen over. I’d never had my parent’s love, but I had their money, and to a degree, Irina’s affection. Now I had neither.
Bellamy’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and stared down at the screen, swerving into another lane. “What the hell kinda number is that?”
I snatched it from him. “It’s French.” I didn’t have my phone, but my dad had Bellamy’s number…so, I answered it. “Bellamy’s phone.”
“Drucella.” My mom’s voice came over the line. “Where are you?”
“In the car.”
“Are you with him?”
“Yes.” We stopped at a red light. A massive truck pulled up beside us, the rumble of the engine shaking Bellamy’s car.
“You moved in with him, darling?”
“Yes!”
“Where exactly are you living? In the ghetto?”
“Oh my god. Mom!”
“Irina, darling. You’ll make me feel old calling me Mom.”
The light changed and Bellamy sped off, weaving in and out of traffic. “Does she want to tell me to wear a condom too?”
Shooting a death glare at him, I held up a hand. Now was not the time.
I argued back and forth with her for the next five minutes until we pulled up to his house.
“Mom, I have to go and get the groceries out of the car.”
“Put me on video call. I want to see where you’re living.”
I stared at the front of the tiny house my mother in no way would approve of. She had no idea the struggles most people face. “No,” I said.
“If it’s acceptable, I’ll reactivate your credit card.”
“It’s acceptable.”
Silence.
Bellamy glanced at me before reaching across to open the door. “She sounds like a fucking delight.”
“She’s probably drunk.” It was the most likely excuse I could come up with.
I climbed out of the car, rounding the back when the phone beeped with a video call request.
She would keep trying until I accepted, so I took a breath and answered.
Mom came into view, diamonds around her neck, and a half-empty glass of Champagne in her hand. If I had to guess, the twinkling lights in the background was the view of Monaco from her yacht. “Well,” she said. “Let’s see it.”
Just then, Bellamy leaned over my shoulder. “Hey, Momma. I see where my Baby Girl gets her good looks from.” Then he kissed my cheek.
And my mom’s blush matched my own, like she was a freaking teenager. Oh my god.
I cleared my throat. “Just remember, not everyone lives in what looks like a five-star hotel. It doesn’t mean it’s not acceptable.”
I went inside the house, hurrying past Carol with a wave and cutting into Bellamy’s room.
The last thing I wanted was for Carol to hear my mother judging the home Carol had been generous enough to invite me in to.
“This is Bellamy’s room.” I did a quick spin around.
It wasn’t flashy of course. It was just an old bed and a dinged-up chest of drawers. A few car and football posters.
“I am perfectly fine here. Dad got unbearable. He took my phone. Basically called me a whore. Threatened to have Bellamy arrested…”
“Your father’s always been unbearable. And you are not a whore.” She drained the rest of the Champagne from her glass, then held it up in the air for someone to refill. “Speaking of your father, he sent me Bellamy’s records--Is that what you call them? Prison report card. Whatever it is...”
“Of course he did.” It didn’t surprise me one bit that he’d managed to get hold of them.
“Darling, believe me, I understand the appeal of boys like that.”
The bedroom door creaked open and Bellamy stepped in, flopping down on his bed.
“They’re dangerous, and exciting. I once dated a man who had been to prison, you know? It was a rush.” She fiddled with the strand of diamonds around her neck like just the thought of said man made her flustered. “But you are eighteen and beautiful and intelligent, with the whole world at your feet. If you were dating him, fine. But you moved in with him! That’s…”
Insane? Like I didn’t already know that.
She shook her head. “You have to see there’s no future in this.”
I wanted to walk out of the room, so Bellamy couldn’t hear her berating him, but I had a feeling he’d think I was hiding things from him.
“Those are dad’s words, not yours.”
“We’ll talk about it when you
get here.”
Bellamy’s gaze immediately locked with mine. I didn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw before he grabbed the football from the floor and started tossing it in the air. Like maybe he could ignore everything she’d said.
“I don’t know what I’m doing this summer yet, Mom.”
“What? You always come here.” I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off .“Darling, you’ll come to Saint Tropez for the summer. We’ll drink wine and shop, and we can talk about your future.”
Come to Saint Tropez and forget about him, more like. I was glad she didn’t say it when he was right there though.
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
“You will, sweetie.”
“Mom…”
Someone called for her in the background. “I have to go, darling.”
“Are you still cutting me off?”
Her lips pressed together. “When you run out of money, come to France, and we will discuss. Bisous, darling. Bisous, Bellamy.”
Then she hung up.
I threw my head back against the headboard on a groan.
“What the fuck is a bisous?” he asked.
“It’s French for kisses.”
He tossed the ball to the corner of the room, then dragged me onto the bed with him. “I’ll give you some fucking bisous, on your pussy…”
46
Bellamy
Over the past few weeks, living with Drew had become my new normal.
Our after-school ritual consisted of coming back to my empty house and climbing into bed, then laying here, talking before we went to pick my brother up from the bus stop. And the shittiest part about it, it was all about to come to an end.
Drew laid on my chest while I traced circles over her bare back.
We graduated in two days, and I’d ignored that fact for three whole weeks. Because graduation marked the beginning of summer, and every day closer we came to fall was one less I had with her. Come mid-August she was off to Cornell. Thousands of miles away.
But I didn’t want to think about that shit right now.
I kissed over the swell of her chest. Then sucked her nipple into my mouth.
“Insane in the Membrane” blared from my phone, but I kept working my lips down her body. The ringtone cut off, then immediately blasted again. And again. And again.
“You going to get that?” she asked.
“It’s just Hendrix.”
It rang again. Groaning, I snatched the phone from the nightstand and placed it to my ear. “What do you want, dipshit?”
“What took you so long? You porking Drewbers?”
“If you actually need something you better stop with the bullshit or I’m hanging up.”
“You were supposed to be over here thirty minutes ago to help us with that Toyota Tony wanted.”
“Shit…” I glanced at Drew’s naked body. I’d forgotten.
“Shit is right. And while you’re so busy hiding your Willie Wonka in Drew’s chocolate tube, the Oompa Loompas are fucked. Oompa-Loompa-doompadee-doo. What do you get when you guzzle down jizz, getting your ballbag in a terrible tizz. What are you at getting fuckity fucked? What do you think---”
I hung up. Because as long as I had him on the line, Hendrix would sing every freaking contorted stanza of that song.
Drew fought a laugh. “You know, if he wasn’t so insane I’d actually say he’s creative.”
“Don’t ever say that to him.”
If she ever gave him something that halfway resembled a compliment, he’d be strutting around like a peacock with its tail feathers spread.
I snagged my jeans from the floor. “I’ve gotta go over there for like an hour. You wanna come or you wanna stay here?”
“I’ll come with you. I secretly enjoy Hendrix’s weirdness.” Drew scooted off the bed, my gaze trained on her ass when she bent over to grab her dress. “And no, I won’t tell him that.”
Hendrix poked his head up from the hood of the banged-up Toyota. His glare immediately directed to my right, at Drew as we crossed the overgrown yard.
“You are a thorn in my side.”
I glared at him. He still had a chip on his shoulder over the entire shitshow that went down with his brother’s girlfriend. “Chill the hell out, Hendrix. She’s not here to steal cars.”
The smile that worked over her face resembled the one she’d get before she did something crazy-- like ram a Maserati into my car. “Can I come steal one with you?”
“No.” Adding Drew into the mix would end up in nothing but carnage. That was for damn sure.
She lifted a brow at me. “No?”
Something whistled past us. “See! What is it with women trying to do our guy shit?” He pointed at the open hood. “This is guy stuff.” Then he pointed at Drew. “Not rich girl shit.”
“I’m not a rich girl anymore.”
“Oh, right. Barbie in her Barbie pink Porsche is now a millionaire slumdog.”
“That was a present from my days of wealth,” she said. “I can’t sell it, and I can’t afford another car, so fuck off.”
“You fuck off.”
My jaw set. “Hendrix…”
“And I’m pretty sure anyone can steal a car,” Drew continued, because God knew she couldn't stop. “Doesn’t require a dick. Besides, not like I want to actually steal it.” She rolled her eyes. “Just go for a joyride.”
Hendrix scoffed as I rounded the hood to grab a socket wrench. “A joyride, Bell. She said a joyride! Freaking joyride,” he mumbled, yanking at the spark plugs. “You already had a joyride on his dick today and made him late. That’s all you get, Drewbers.”
A screwdriver flew past his head. “Changed my mind, Bellamy. He’s annoying as all hell.”
Hendrix thumbed back at her. “Are you gonna stand for this? She threw a blunt object at my head. And she’s already given me one head injury, when she Hulk threw me off her other car.”
Shaking my head, I went to work on the engine. I couldn't deal with the two of them.
“I will never get all pussy whipped like you and Zepp.” He fiddled with the plugs. “It’s shameful. Like, you should have every player stripe you ever earned ripped right off your pimp suit.”
Drew leaned against the side of the car, glaring at him. “Well, in your case, you must look like a damn zebra. A chlamydia-riddled zebra.”
Hendrix pushed up from the engine, wiping grease over his shirt. “So you think STDs are a laughing matter, Drew?”
“You are such a drama queen.”
His brow lifted. “And you’re a stealer of joy.”
“Not Bellamy’s ‘joy’.”
I rounded the corner, taking Drew by the shoulders. “Please, for the love of God, just stop talking to him. The longer you engage, the longer this takes.”
The back door banged shut, and Wolf crossed the yard.
“What’s up his asshole?” he asked, nodding to Hendrix who was still standing by the front bumper, arms crossed while he glared at Drew.
“Man, just don’t ask,” I said. “Come help me get this shit fixed up.” I started to the car, but Drew grabbed my hand and yanked me back a step.
“You know.” She trailed a finger down my stomach on a seductive grin. “If you take me to steal a car, it would really turn me on.” The path of her finger moved lower, sweeping over my crotch. “I’d probably feel the urge to suck your dick while you’re driving it.”
Hendrix popped over the hood like a prairie dog, his finger pointing. “That’s some Medusa shit right there.”
I glanced at Drew’s bottom lip gripped between her teeth. The thought of getting road head, from her while I drove a stolen car down a deserted highway should not have turned me on as much as it did. “You gonna swallow?” I asked, grabbing her hips and yanking her tight against my body.
“Don’t I always?” She smiled and kissed me, nipping at my lip. This girl.
“Deal.”
“What!” A loud bang came from the hood when Hendri
x slammed it shut. “You traitorous whore!”
“Come on, Hendrix,” Wolf chuckled. “She promised him head.”
“And that’s an illegal move. If I had a flag right now, I’d throw it.”
I rounded the car and opened the driver’s side door. “Stop sulking, Hendrix.”
Wolf sidled up beside me, pulling the dipstick from the oil carrier. “Tony said to drop this one off around ten.” He shoved the stick back in. “Figured we could go pick up that old Mustang around midnight?”
“Yeah. That works.”
A few hours later, Wolf’s headlights shined over a brown Mustang parked in a vacant lot by the river.
“I think whoever owned it died,” Wolf said. “It’s been here for weeks.”
And from the grass growing over the wheel wells, it was a likely story.
He continued driving down the dirt road, finally parking behind a tackle shop.
Drew hopped out and I grabbed my bag before stepping into the muggy Alabama heat that enveloped me like a prickly blanket.
“You’re stealing that,” Drew asked, nodded toward the absolute piece of shit Wolf was approaching.
I shined my flashlight through the window, groaning at the grass growing from the seats.
The car looked like it hadn’t been driven in years, which meant everything was most likely screwed. “Yeah,” I said. “Wolf, man. Tony wanted this?”
“Yep. Gave me the directions and everything.”
“God, this is gonna be a shitshow.”
We got to work.
I popped the locks and climbed behind the wheel, unable to get the thing to start once I pulled off the steering column. “It’s not gonna start.”
Wolf walked to the middle of the dirt road, looking both ways before striding back. “I mean, this place is deserted. And Tony is giving us five grand for it. We’ve got time.”
“Five grand? Shit.” That was double what he usually gave, then again, it was a 1979 mustang, and while it was in shit condition, someone could restore it and make it worth a damn site more than that.
Drew rested her chin on my shoulder as I worked with the dangling wires. “Aren’t you supposed to steal a working car?”
No Good: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 27
