“We toss insults?” I blink up at him. “That’s our thing?”
“Yeah, you know, you call me micropenis, and I—” His brows furrow as if grasping for a micropenis straw.
“You call me princess.” It takes everything in me not to gloat over that one. I’d much rather be an heir to royalty than a microscopic member of the male anatomy.
“That’s right.” He’s back to being sour again.
The stench of a thousand dying roses clutters up my senses as a perky little blonde pops up with her sights set on Lawson.
“Janelle.” He straightens as he says her name. “Is Knox here?”
“Nope.” Her voice is so high-pitched I’m half-tempted to let her know there’s a helium shortage and to lay off the balloons. She giggles for no apparent reason, and her cheeks blush a harsh shade of crimson as if all of the red blood cells in her body rushed to that deep tissue performance. “I was wondering if you could show me to the Black Bear. I’ve got a study group there in an hour, and I’ve looked all over campus and can’t seem to find it.”
“It’s a bar,” I flatline. “Nobody has a study group in a bar, sweetheart.” Honest to God, I can’t recall a single sarcastic instance where I’ve actually referenced another girl in such a sexually derogatory manner, although, coming from another female probably doesn’t count even if I did mean every derogatory ounce of it.
“Well, I do.” Her Disney-inspired voice hikes up all the way to the top of the Matterhorn. I swear on all that is holy, I half-expect Mickey himself to run in with a net and haul her back to the magic mushroom kingdom from where she escaped. On second thought, she’s more like the long-lost fourth Chipmunk. I’m half-tempted to pluck a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and ask her to sing “Christmas Don’t Be Late”.
“I’ll take you.” Lawson stands before glaring down at me. “We were just wrapping things up.”
“And who is this?” She gifts us another frenetic giggle, but there’s something about that piercing glare of hers that clues me into the fact she’s not as sweet and innocent as she seems. Sometimes only a female can recognize the schemes of another female, and this girl is scheming with the ever-loving best of them.
I hold a hand up as if to say I’ve got this. “I’m Lawson’s favorite ex-girlfriend. We started dating right out of the womb, only to end in a bloodbath senior year. According to him, I’m highly frigid, but in truth, his pet turtle has a bigger head than he does.” I hold my hand to the side of my mouth as if to shield his view. “You need a microscope and tweezers to see it!” I do my best to whisper-shout because what’s the use of doing our thing if Lawson isn’t able to appreciate it?
They take off, and I hear her inquire about his pet turtle.
“Never had one!” he shouts as they hit the exit.
I can’t help but stare at the two of them as they’re swallowed by the murky darkness.
Just who is this little whore, and what does she really want with my micropenis?
Friday evening, just before I’m about to trowel on all of Sephora’s latest and greatest offerings—via Harper, there’s no way I could ever afford all of this fabulousness on my non-income—for the mixer later tonight, Jet calls me to the Black Bear for dinner and a proposition he says I won’t want to pass up.
I trudge over to the Black Bear all by my lonesome. I tried to convince Ava to tag along. I even tried to entice her with free fries—on me!—but she’s too sidelined at the moment deciding which top to pair with her barely-there skirt. I tried to tell her that Grant prefers her with her top off so it really didn’t matter, but I know that deep down Ava is really hoping that I’ll click with Daisy when left to my own devices. She thinks it will be better for the two of us in the long run if we work on our relationship now. For whatever reason, Ava has really taken to my brother’s ditz of a girlfriend. I’m pretty certain that I will never click with Daisy over anything, not now and for sure not in the long run.
The Black Bear smells like lust-filled frat boys who wear too much cologne and cruise around with a beer in their hands while doing their best to get laid. That conversation I had with Lawson comes to mind. There’s no way I’m willing to be passed around The Row like some bimbo blow-up doll. I have no clue why I wanted Lawson to think that would be my main educational objective during my time here at Briggs. What I meant to say, not that it was any of his beeswax, was that I want to experience a series of relationships—nothing more than first base. Don’t guys just date anymore? Can’t you see someone for a continuous amount of time without having to inject a condom into your body? Why is everyone here so sexed up anyway?
I spot Daisy and Jet in a heavy lip lock from across the room and groan. Leave it to those two to prove my sexual point. I head over and steal a fry off my brother’s plate.
“Hear, hear, I call this meeting to order!” I shout in an effort to put an end to their tongue twister.
Jet straightens with his eyes sprung wide as if I’ve just caught them doing far more carnal things than kissing. Truth be told, I have no idea what’s taking place underneath the table nor do I want to use my impressive sleuthing skills to investigate. “Do you realize how disgusting it is to use the word proposition when it comes to your baby sister?” A part of me enjoys torturing poor Jet. In no way does he ever want to imagine me as a sexual being, so I get a kick out of taking him down that thorny horny road now and again, although he walked into that one all on his own.
Daisy swats him, and her hair blows back as light as cotton candy—ironically, she douses herself with a cheap perfume that just so happens to be just as country fair inspired.
“I’m working on him, Lucky.” She bounces her finger off the tip of his nose, and they both give a little laugh as though it were some dirty inside joke. Probably is. “What he meant to say was—”
“Please don’t put words in my brother’s mouth. I find it both rude and condescending.”
Daisy smirks as if she expected this on some level, but Jet’s eyes roll with fire.
“Apologize,” he growls.
Jet always swore he would never let another human being come between us, and he’s done just that. Once my mother died, effectively leaving us orphans, he swore on her grave that he would be my father, my mother—that he would protect me and provide for me, and there wouldn’t be a single thing that I would want for. Who knew that, fast-forward a decade, the only thing I’d really want was my brother all to myself once again. I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing in the world he can’t gift me. I hate that his relationship with Daisy has affected ours. I hate that he, in fact, left me just like our parents did, like my sister. I groan at the thought. I realize how adolescent it all sounds, and yet deep down, I buy every bitter word.
“I’ve got a job offer for you.” Jet pushes his burger in my direction, and I take it.
“What kind of a job?” A part of me demands to crack a comment about tracking down Daisy’s brain, but I hold back. Sometimes my sarcastic superpowers land me in hotter water than I think they should. And I know for a fact my brother would hold my head under those hostile hot waters until I bleated out an apology, so I refrain from sharing my theories on her lobotomy.
“At the shop.” His face smooths out. “Think Ink is a part of a new docudrama, and I want you to participate. You’re family—plus, I need a few more employees to fill in the blanks. I had three quit because they had arrest warrants out, and they didn’t want any airtime.”
“Cool! I mean, not to the arrest warrants. I’m rooting for the authorities, by the way.” I give a little shrug. Who knows, maybe I’m headed to law school yet? I always did have an affinity for all things justice. “So, what do I do? When do I start?”
“You do your homework, and you start on Monday.”
Daisy nods. “We just need a hand behind the counter.”
We. I smack my lips in lieu of turning on the faucet of my aggression. I don’t know where she gets off using the term we. Jet built that business fro
m the ground up—or at least he resurrected life back into it when he took it over from the last guy. My brother happens to be the best tattoo artist this side of the continental divide and most likely the other side of it, too. That’s another thing I’m not too crazy about when it comes to my brother’s first and worst girlfriend—she’s weaseled her way into every facet of his life. If he ever marries her, it might as well be his funeral. She’s vacuuming his identity from him one soul-sucking kiss at a time. The sad thing is, he doesn’t even realize it.
“I’m in.” I take a bite out of his burger, and a thought comes to mind. “Hey—um, insanity wouldn’t happen to run in our family, would it?” I can’t let that comment go—or more like where that comment took me. Jet and I have never talked about the horror our mother went through. Once our father died, it was a big relief and my mother was more than elated—not outright or anything, but you practically had to hold her down the way she kept floating to the ceiling now that the boulder in the shape of my father was rolled off her chest.
“Yes, you,” he says it dead serious, and I flinch as if this might be true. As horrific as it sounds, I loved my father. We were very close. He called me his special girl. He saved his wrath for my mother, but for me he saved the best part of him—the heart he tried to convince the rest of the world that he didn’t have. “No.” Jet shakes his head, emphatic. “Is that for a class or something?” He crumples up a napkin and shoots it my way.
“Yeah, something like that.”
We shore up dinner and hug it out before I take off for Cutler Tower once again.
No insanity in my family—with the exception of my brother losing his mind over a girl.
Thank God that’s one mental disorder I don’t ever plan on tapping into.
Lawson
Thankfully, I don’t ever plan on pinning myself to a wax board and letting some chick dissect me for the rest of my life. I glance around Beta house as it fills with bodies. Ava and Grant have already done a disappearing act. Rush is gathering the prospects by way of regaling a crowd of Kappa G girls with his storied youth. Rush’s family is locked and loaded, so if he doesn’t get them with the mention of their private jet, he’ll land them with the chateau in Vale.
My own family used to be locked and loaded themselves until we imploded. Dad still has his shipping business, but last I heard he’s looking to sell it to the highest bidder and sail the world with a woman he met a little over a year ago. I do like Lynette, and I get along great with Knox and Trixy—Rex is always a wild card as far as that goes, but a part of me wishes I could magically stitch my old family back together. Although I’m not sure why. For some reason, my mother and father’s inability to keep it together—my mother’s ability to drift so far apart from her children—has left me jaded toward relationships in general. How long will it be until all of my siblings move away and we pretend like we never even knew each other? I’m sure once I’m through with Briggs, the few friendships I’ve made here will end, too. Dad and Lynette just mentioned the other day that they’re getting ready to put my childhood home on the market. This entire line of thinking leaves me headed toward the nearest beer.
A hand lands over my shoulder, and I turn to find Knox himself grinning at me.
“Dude.” I slap him five. “Good to see you. I was just thinking about you, man.”
“Jen’s here.” He nods to the refreshment table as if explaining his presence.
“I saw her at Briggs for the first time a couple of days ago.” She and Knox are the same age, but since he and Trixy were held back a year he has one more semester before he catches up with her at WB.
“Yup. Dating a college girl.” He gives an easy wink, and we laugh it off. “Where’s your girlfriend?” He nods before taking a sip of whatever is lurking inside that red Solo of his.
“Are you talking about the psycho from the gym?” My arms fold tight across my chest. I can tell he’s getting his kicks busting my balls. “I told you we’re not together.”
“Psycho, huh? Is that your little pet name?” He pumps a dry smile and looks eerily like his brother.
“Nope, that would be princess.” I frown as I spot the heir to the throne walking through the door as if on cue. Lucky Madden has every big and little head at attention with that short white sweater she’s trying to pull off as a dress. Her dark hair falls in waves, and those eyes the color of a starless night deaden once they set their sights on me. Lucky stomps over like I stole her lunch money and she’s ready for retribution.
“I’ll take this as my cue to leave.” Knox takes a step away, and I pull him back.
“I wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”
“How’s the safety pin?” She glances to my crotch before scoping out the room.
Knox shoots me a look that begs me to explain her ridiculous comment, and I offer up a slight shake of the head. Both my dick and I know what she meant.
“Just why is it that you’re perseverating on my safety pin?” Had I known the conversation would take a pinprick turn, I wouldn’t have invited my stepbrother to bear witness. On second thought, when have Lucky and I had any other conversation?
A tiny little blonde wiggles over and bites her lip as she looks my way.
“There she is.” Knox wraps his arms around his girlfriend, but for some reason, I don’t have it in me to make eye contact with the girl. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Janelle was making one suggestive implication after another on our way to the bar the other night. At one point she asked if I could take her for a tour of the frat house and asked if she could see my bedroom. If it were any other girl, I would swear that she was coming on to me. She was probably just being nice. Knox and Janelle seem pretty solid. There’s just something about that ultra high-pitched voice, the way she wagged her tits in front of me as if offering up an appetizer, that didn’t sit well with me.
“Oh, it’s you again,” she says to Lucky, and I’m sort of fearing for Janelle’s life at this point.
“I have a name.” Lucky’s brows rise. Her voice is calm in that scary way that only an elite group of terrifying women seems to pull off. Lucky can pull off terrifying every day of the week. If I were Janelle, I’d clip clop right on out of here if she plans on keeping her limbs intact.
“And what would that be?” Janelle looks genuinely puzzled. “Oh, wait. I think I remember!” She holds up a finger, and I cringe. “You’re Lawson’s favorite ex-girlfriend! Frigid—senior year, bloodbath.” She giggles through each word before turning to me. “I may have told Knoxy about the turtle.”
Knox winces. “Sorry, bro.” He mock socks me. “But they can be fun when they’re brutal.”
Janelle waves to someone deep in the crowd before pulling my stepbrother away with her.
“I’m brutal.” Lucky doesn’t let a moment drift by without looking up at me. “And believe you me, I’m a barrel of fun.”
Rush dives in behind Lucky, wraps his arms around her, and starts mock ravaging her neck. “Let’s make this dude so jealous, he can’t see straight.”
“I can see straight.” I look past his childish antics and scope out the room for a girl, any other girl to catch my eye. I’m going through a dry season, and both my mattress and I are begging for a little wetness.
“You can stop syphoning the blood from my body.” Lucky tries to push him away. “Lawson is the last person I care to make jealous or anything else.”
“You sure?” He trails a line of kisses up her neck, and she giggles up a storm. Something about the way she laughs when he does it sets my blood pumping like lava. But Rush doesn’t break his hold on her. His mouth is still very much glued to her silky soft skin. The day I ran my hand down her thigh comes back to me, and I groan a little.
“She said let go, dude.” I try to pluck him off, but he’s grafted his lips to her flesh. “Get the hell away.” I wrap him in a chokehold and land him to the wall.
A pair of strong arms plucks me off of him, and I turn to find Grant, startle
d and angry right along with me.
“What the hell’s gotten into you two?”
I glance over and spot Ava and Lucky migrating away from us.
“Nothing.” I shake myself free.
“Peace offering.” Rush hands me his beer. “You’ll thank me later.” He takes off into a thicket of girls all wearing matching ponytails and begins to turn on the charm.
“So, what are you going to thank him for?” Grant yanks my collar straight.
“Nothing. He was making out with Lucky’s neck, and I kicked his ass across the room. That’s all.”
“That.” He closes his eyes as if reliving a memory. “I see what he’s doing.” He glances to where the girls stand huddled. “Lucky, huh?”
“Lucky what?” I hate how her name has a double meaning. Nothing about her feels lucky to me.
“Rush thinks you’re into her. That’s why he’s turning up the beastly routine. He did the same thing with Ava and me.” He gives a wistful shake of the head and laughs. “Worked like a charm.”
“It won’t work on me.”
“Then why’d you pluck him off her? Who cares if he wants to bang Lucky?”
“Whoa, back down. Don’t talk like that.”
“Why not?” Grant remains unblinking as if waiting for me to come to an epiphany.
“Because it’s crass. She’s a kid.” I shrug it off, but my gaze lands on those creamy thighs of hers. “A kid with incredibly good-looking legs.”
“Good legs.” He shakes his head. “Say goodbye to your heart, man.”
“I’m not even close to giving my heart away.”
“Time will tell,” he says as Ava comes over, and the next thing I know the two of them have melted into the crowd.
Lucky takes a step toward me with her arms crossed loosely over her chest, that perennial smirk stuck to her face. “It’s sort of lame being ditched.”
For a second I consider saying something stupid about ditching her then taking off, but I don’t have the heart to do it. My heart. The one I’m not gifting to anyone so they can aerate it with their five-inch stilettos.
Lucky Kisses Page 5
