by Kira Graham
“No. Come on—that isn’t possible. The marriage laws in New York—”
“I know. Which is why I thought Gia was only kidding, Bro. I swear; it was just a lark. We were going to wake you two the next morning and show you some photos and scare the shit out of you both, but then Gia laughed at us, and when I finally figured out she wasn’t joking about the marriage, it was too late,” he says softly, flinching when I go deadly still and turn to him with a snarl.
“You’d better be fucking with me, Connor,” I growl, the warning of violence in my tone so stark I see my brother cringe while Peter gulps loudly enough to be heard.
“I wish I was. Seriously. I only found out because Gia was acting so shifty and then I snooped in her apartment and found the marriage certificate. I didn’t want to believe it, Cam. I seriously thought it was just a joke, but then I called the county courthouse…” he mumbles, wincing again because I snarl.
“You…”
“It was Gia! Blame her. At least, for the love of God, tell Lu it was her sister and not us. I’m begging you,” he whimpers, tears filling his eyes. “I know what Lu is capable of, Cam, and she scares me to death. It was just supposed to be a prank.”
“It really was, Cam. Honest. And then by the time Connor and I found out, we didn’t know what to do,” Peter sighs, running a hand through his hair where it’s growing in and messed-up.
“So—what? You just kept quiet?” I snarl, my panic returning because you guys don’t know Lu.
We’re friends, sure, but this is the same woman I watched jump on top of a complete stranger when he tried to cut in front of us at the pizza place. And she bites. She doesn’t give a shit if she draws blood either—and don’t get me started on her view of germs and disease. She simply doesn’t give a shit as long as she gets the upper hand. I should know. I paid that asshole five grand to keep his mouth shut so she wouldn’t get arrested.
“We were trying to tell you,” Connor mumbles, his shoulders slumping. “But then it all got complicated, and you and Lu started… being together, and I thought maybe it’d blow over and when you found out you wouldn’t be pissed. You shouldn’t be. I remember you saying she’s the one,” he grumbles.
“She is! But she’s also nuts, Connor!” I yell. “I laughed at her dog when she brought him over, and I woke up with her staring at me, Connor. Just staring,” I whisper, a shiver running through me because that shit was creepy as fuck.
Especially when you consider that Lu is a sleeper. Once she passes out, she’s out like a light and she wakes up at half past four without an alarm. She shouldn’t have been watching me at half past three in the freaking morning. She just shouldn’t have, I think, my internal voice a fear-filled whine that even I grimace at.
“So… shit,” Connor moans, swiping a hand over his tired eyes and blowing out a breath. “I’m really sorry. That’s all I can say. This wasn’t us, Cam—it was Gia.”
“Freaking hell,” I groan. “She’s gonna kill me. That woman doesn’t see reason when she’s pissed. You know what she does when she’s pissed, Connor,” I whine.
“I do know,” he moans. “I had to deal with Gia when she ran out of the shower buck naked with orange hair. Do you have any idea what Georgia Sugar is capable of when she’s in a fury?” he asks, wincing. “I ran, like a bitch, and only went to see her after she calmed down.”
“Well, at least they talk to you, assholes,” Peter says gruffly. “Kat won’t even answer my texts. Or my calls.”
“Oh, stop whining. It’s not like you won’t be seeing her regularly,” I sneer, my patience shot already.
“Whatever,” Peter huffs, sulking in the front seat like his problems are as big as mine.
No, I’m the schmuck who has to tell his homicidal little lotus flower that we’re married. Oh, yay.
Chapter 15
Louisiana
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I mumble, my mouth pulling into a thin line while Kat sits in the corner, sniveling and trying not to glare at me accusingly.
Which she shouldn’t. It’s not like this debacle was my fault. All I did was follow along after Gia, the world’s worst sister and the only person I have ever met who thinks that her plans are solid gold. In her defense, I should have known better, and this is exactly the reason why, when we used to team up for Hunts, I would do the planning. Always. Because I’m smart, and she is apparently blonde to the gray matter her brain pretends to possess.
“Look, it’s not a big deal,” she huffs from beside me, staying well away so that I can’t attack her.
I want to. God help me, I want to kill her—but I have to remember that she’s blood-related, my father’s a crier, and if I murder her in a cell in the freaking police station, I’m definitely not getting out of that one. They have cameras.
“You know, you girls look a little the worse for wear,” Leticia says from her spot on the other bench were she’s been lying with Kat’s head on her bosom.
That’s perhaps why Kat is sniffling and glaring at me accusingly, but—hello?—I am not arguing with a three-hundred-pound ginger who’s wearing a muscle shirt and dad jeans. I’m scrappy and my family fear me, but even I draw the line somewhere, and that line is drawn right now, or was, the moment Leticia smiled at Kat and seemed to take a shine to her. Now, mind you, she isn’t into chicks. At least that’s what she said. She’s just a hugger. God, I hope that’s true or I’m one friend less the moment we get out of here.
“We fell into a grave,” I mutter, cringing at the very thought of it because I won’t ever forget Kat’s unholy screams or the fact that there was something in that hole.
I cried a little too at one point, and it’s a stain on my character that I sobbed with relief when the police showed up. I was not grave robbing, dammit. We really weren’t. We were… I don’t want to say what we were doing but I blame my parents for this. They raised awful, awful children who don’t think before they act.
“Grave... Girl! What the hell you doing in a graveyard?” Leticia asks, chortling while Kat whimpers and closes her eyes against the fingers stroking through her hair.
“Nothing. You shut your mouth, Louisiana. They can pin shit on us,” Gia yells, her mulish expression out in full force as she folds her arms across her chest and sulks.
“Gia, they found us in the grave and you were clutching someone’s pearls,” I hiss, trying to block out the memory while pretending that it never happened.
Which is hard to do because we’re sitting here waiting for Dad to come and bail us out. Oh, Lord. Mom is gonna be so freaking pissed, and I can’t imagine what Cameron’s going to say because I missed a date tonight. It was only supposed to take an hour tops in that freaking cemetery, dammit. An hour. Then I was going to go meet Cameron, and everything was going to be fine. You know what? I blame Simon and Paul! This was their doing. They challenged us to a battle, and since location was key on this challenge, Gia of course had to go and choose a cemetery. As if dancing on graves is the in thing.
“I was looking for a way to get out!”
“With pearls?” I yell, throwing my hands up when she sucks at her teeth and grumbles.
“Don’t act so self-freaking-righteous, Lu. It would have been an epic souvenir, and you know it. Now we’ve lost the battle, dammit.”
“That’s what you care about!” I screech, my face flaming with impotent fury.
You cannot beat her to death inside a cell. Or… I could, and I could blame it on Let—no, that would be wrong. Besides, cameras, Lu. Cameras, I remind myself, slumping back and sighing as I cross my legs. It’s a freaking shame this happened. I happen to look extra hot tonight in a little white dress, some killer blue heels, and I even went to the salon down the street and let those Satanists wax my legs, armpits, and crotch. That’s what I get for being a filthy slut, I think, my lip poking out because tonight was supposed to be special. I was going to broach the subject of a possible love relationship with Cameron.
For real. And no, I
wasn’t nervous because, come on, the man is so into me he clearly loves me. It’s so obvious. I mean, I’m a nightmare and he still wants me. That’s gotta be love—right?
“Shut up. You have no idea what I’m going through here,” Gia hisses, sulking so hard I blow out a groaning breath of frustration and try to find some patience.
I have to really dig for that shit, let me tell ya, because we Sugars do not come with that malfunction, but I’m a great actress—
“Would you stop speaking into your hand, dammit! I’m having a crisis here, and I cannot deal with one more episode of your crazy.”
“It comforts me, bitch,” I hiss, though I do flush and glance at Leticia, who’s pursing her lips at me and glaring. “I was kidding,” I huff. “If anything I’d blame murder on Kat. She’s so cute no one would dare send her to prison.”
“Well, that is true,” Kat sighs, sitting up with a struggle and somehow managing to shake Leticia’s arm off. “Personal boundaries, L. You gotta practice some personal boundaries here, babe. I like dick.”
“Me too,” Leticia laughs, winking at me. “I just like hugging,” she says, shrugging when I frown.
“Really? Because you look kinda…” I trail off, not willing to say anything because in this day and age the word police are rife.
I mean, you can hardly even call a bitch a dumb blonde anymore without someone stopping in the middle of the street and screaming like they’re dying. No, really. I called Gia a rancid, dick-smelling feminist one time, and this woman walking behind us literally started screaming like someone had twat-punched her, and she was literally raking her nails down her face. Talk about unhinged.
Since when are words such a big deal, anyway? My mother calls me a disgusting miscreant and a devil all the time, and you don’t hear Christians going nuts on me. Shit.
“I don’t roll that way. My aunt does. Love that woman too.”
“My aunt too!” I yell, grinning when she snickers and hugs Kat again, much to Kat’s disgust and torture.
“Whatever, assholes. Where is Dad?” Gia yells, throwing her hands up.
“Probably sitting in the car crying,” Kat snorts, making me laugh so hard I snort like a pig.
“This isn’t funny. I have a dance battle to perform and record,” Gia snarls, giving me a determined look that doesn’t bode well for me.
“Oh, no, no, no. We are not going back there,” I sneer.
“Don’t be a baby. We’ll just choose another section, and it’ll take ten minutes, Lu. Do you want to lose?” she growls, making me sit up straight and groan.
“Don’t do that, Gia. That isn’t fair. I have a man to appease once I get out of here, and I doubt telling him I was arrested for desecrating a grave while you looted it is going to go over well,” I cry, real anxiety filling me because this is so awful.
I could lie, though! I mean, it wouldn’t be that terrible, and what Cameron doesn’t know about my insanity won’t hurt him. Then we can get married one day and live happily ever after, and he’ll be trapped, so he can’t get away when my full crazy comes out. Yeah. That’s a good plan. That’s the best plan—
“Erm—”
“Shut it, Gia. I’m plotting!” I snarl, chewing on my lip while I try to think of a good enough lie as to why I missed dinner.
I could tell him I was in the emergency dealing with wax burn! But no—then he’d want to see it to kiss it better and I have no burn. Only stinging pride and a lifetime ban from the salon for punching that harpy in the boob.
Or… I could say I was stuck at work. But no to that as well because if it’s as late as I think it is, he’d have gone by there. Cameron’s a worrier. Rather a talker kind who calls me a million times a day and asks me about my feelings. That’s gross, but I tolerate it because he’s cute—
“Why, thank you, Louisiana,” a voice drawls while Gia is frantically trying to elbow me, turning the blood in my veins to ice when I look up and see Cameron standing there, his jaw ticking. “So nice of you to tolerate me.”
“Now, Cam. I was just kidding,” I huff, realizing once again I’ve been thinking aloud. A flush fills my cheeks when he snorts and nods to the guard who’s laughing beside him and shaking his head.
“Kidding or not, you’re mine,” he sighs, sounding so long-suffering I want to take offense.
I choose not to, because to be fair, he has a point. I really have got to stop talking to my hand. Dammit, Lee, you evil old bitch. You’re gonna pay for this.
I’m plotting her death as we’re released from the cell, Kat practically flying out when Leticia leans in for a kiss. Not one to hate, I supply the lippy farewell before I leave, and then I’m being frog-marched out of the station and to the car where I see Dad parked behind Cameron. Crying.
“Oh, hell, no! I am not driving with Meryl Streep,” Gia hisses, slipping into the back seat of Cameron’s car before anyone can argue.
“Gia!”
“Shut up. We still have shit to do, Lu. And you’re doing it!” she yells as I wave at Dad and sigh, my shoulders sagging.
“Go say sorry to your dad, Sugar, and then we’re leaving and we’re going to have a long, long talk about missing dinner dates and robbing graves,” Cameron growls, looking so furious I slink towards Dad silently.
I’m not meek, though. Don’t ever play me like that, my people. I’m simply smart—and a smart woman knows when not to piss off the guy who gives her orgasms.
“Dad,” I groan, leaning in when he rolls down his window and peers at me through bloodshot eyes.
It’s only when I’m starting to feel really guilty and shitty that I realize the tears streaming down his cheeks aren’t tears of sorrow but those of laughter, and then I’m screaming a muffled curse into his shoulder when he lunges and grabs me, hugging me so tightly I can’t breathe.
“Oh, Lu. You’ve made me so proud. Tell me you at least got footage of the dance,” he pleads, throwing me for a loop because this isn’t like Dad.
He’s usually a sniveling mess when things like this happen and by the time we’re all home at his house I’m ready to pull my hair out in frustration. “Proud?” He’s proud?
“Of course I am, honey! Your mother is apoplectic, and she said you girls are just like me,” he sniffles, his lip trembling. “You have no idea how good that feels to an old man like me.”
“Dad, seriously,” I roll my eyes. “There is definitely something wrong with you.”
“Only because I love you lunatics, Lu. Only because I love you,” he sighs, grinning when I smile and pat his belly.
“I gotta go. Cameron’s pissed all the way off right now, Gia and I still have to do the dance, and Kat’s—hey, where is Kat?” I ask, glancing around to see her standing beside Cameron’s car, yelling at Peter.
Did he bring everyone, I wonder, groaning when I see a head pop out of the car and a grinning Mrs. O’Dare waving at Dad. Well, shit.
“Ooh, Lord,” I moan, mock-sobbing while Dad chuckles and pats my hand.
“I’m going to go now, honey. You go on and do what you have to. Mind yourself with Gia, though. That girl has less than two pennies to call sense,” he sighs, giving me a kiss before I step away and watch him leave.
I’m dragging my feet as I go back to Cameron but not out of shame. I mean, I have no reason to be ashamed. Falling into a grave isn’t a crime, which is why we’re free now. I think. Shoot. I hope we’re in the clear.
“You’re in the clear,” Cam sighs when I reach him, his jaw still ticking, but I do notice his eyes twinkling. “Come on. Let’s go home. I’m tired as hell and I still have to take Mom home,” he grumbles, helping me into his car and going around to get in the driver’s seat.
There’s no space for Kat, so she has to ride with Peter in his car and I can hear her complaining all the way from it as he helps her in silently, his jaw clenched and his lips pursed.
“You know, this was all a huge misunderstanding,” I say, turning around to look at Lydia and hoping like hell sh
e finds this a little funny at least or I am so screwed.
“Oh, dear, don’t worry. This has been the most entertainment I’ve had since Lei gave birth,” she laughs, making me giggle while Gia mutters something I don’t think anyone should hear.
“Misunderstanding? Which part would that be?” Cameron asks, pulling out of the parking spot and into the thin traffic around the precinct. “Maybe the part where you broke into a cemetery—”
“Technically it isn’t breaking and entering if the gate was wide open,” I say piously, hearing Gia snort. “And for your information, we didn’t do anything wrong. We just had a small, teeny, practically nonexistent thing to do,” I say, praying he finds that cute ’cause I got nothing else here.
“Something we still have to do,” Gia snarls from the back seat.
“I said quit it! This isn’t the time,” I hiss right back at her, my eyeballs flaring with fury when she sniffs.
“Oh? And when is? The time limit on this runs out at midnight tonight, and we have exactly thirty-two minutes to get this done or we lose. You want to lose to those two assholes?” Gia asks, sounding so repulsed by the idea I groan because no, I really don’t.
I can’t stand the thought of losing by default because we failed to dance at all. If we lose because they did something cooler, it wouldn’t be great, but I could respect that. Losing to those idiots because we couldn’t succeed? That’s inconceivable and so disgusting I want to cry before I hear Lydia perk up in the back while Cam groans.
“Oh! There’s a mission? What is it? Can I come?” she asks excitedly, her smile so wide I can see it in the dark car.
“Mom, no. We’re going home,” Cameron groans, his jaw growing tighter when she scoffs.
“No way! We have a mission. What is it?” she asks, giggling when Cameron groans after Gia laughs and gives him directions.
“Well, we have this thing we do called battling. It’s a dance-off, and my brothers challenged us to one this morning. The rules are simple. Whoever chooses the best location has an automatic win. If location is tied, you break it with the dance style. Now, mind you, dancing for us is an art form. It isn’t about the rhythm per se but rather about finding a song that’s great and then dancing a dance that should in no way fit the rhythm,” I say, laughing when she giggles.
