by Amo Jones
“She looks so much like you, Tip.”
We leave after another five minutes, then we are back in the pool house and the music is playing. Madison puts on “Bad Bitch” by Bebe Rexha and I end up dancing on the coffee table, sipping on my drink. I twist my body around to the beat while bringing my eyes straight to Madison’s phone that she’s got on me from the kitchen. I’ve always loved dancing, and I’m not half bad. It’s one of the first things that got Nate’s attention.
I will not think of him…
Ridge comes up behind me, pulling stupid shit into the phone. Madison laughs as the song changes.
She lowers her phone and sinks the rest of her drink. I think we’re up to six each. “Right! Let’s head out.”
“Where are we going first?” I ask, picking up my clutch.
“We have to pick Tate up from Brantley’s.” Madison rolls her eyes. “I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course!” I say, brushing her off while ignoring the way my stomach flips from knowing I’m about to see Nate. God, what if they’re all over each other?
Fuck it. Liquid courage has my back. We all shuffle out of the pool house, sloppily making our way to the front of the mansion where there’s a limo waiting for us, because of course there is.
Madison wiggles, sliding into the back seat.
“Wow, Tip,” Ridge jokes as he gets in behind her. “This is a step up from the Skyline’s back in the day…”
I laugh, shoving him as he dives into the back seat. I scoot next to Madison when my phone vibrates in my clutch. It’s a Snapchat from Tate.
My face falls.
“What is it?” Madison asks, leaning over to look at my phone. “Oh.”
Ridge is watching us, taking the bottle of champagne from the ice cooler and popping it open.
“Open it,” Madison rushes.
“What if it’s her and Nate?”
“I thought you didn’t care?” Her eyebrow is raised, but it’s not in a malicious way.
I open it and a video starts playing. “Welcome to Detroit” by Trick Trick and Eminem is playing loudly in the background, and then she drops the phone to a coffee table where white powder is lined up beside a one-hundred-dollar bill. The phone then drops down, where a hand is wrapped around her tanned thigh. A hand I know is Nate’s because of the skull tattooed over it and the letters “E L I T E” inked into each finger.
“Motherfucker.” I exit, not watching the whole video because I can’t fucking stand it. I hate Nate so much I could spew. Snatching the champagne off Ridge, I take a huge drink. I’m going to need it for what I’m about to walk into.
“If Bishop is playing in the snow tonight then I really need to stay away from him. He’ll start groping me and then well, I’ll end up in bed with him,” Madison adds, talking about cocaine.
I exhale, looking out the window. “I hate that I give a shit.”
Madison’s hand comes to my leg. “I love that you do. He does too, you know…”
I choke on my wine. “You are kidding.”
She gives me a sad smile but looks away without continuing. We’re pulling down Brantley’s driveway when Ridge says, “Ah, Tip, I need to tell you something.”
My eyes go to his. He licks his lip. “I’m getting married.”
I freeze. “What?”
He smiles so wide that I almost feel guilty for snapping in shock. “To who!”
“Her name is Ashley. You don’t know her, she’s from Australia. We can talk about this later since…” he gestures over his shoulder and my eyes go to the large stone mansion. It resembles The Addam’s Family home. It’s all dark stone with Victorian style window panes. There are trails of vines growing up some of the cracks, and the four stone pillars at the entranceway have flowers wrapped around them too. The actual gardens and grounds are always kept tidy, so I know that the style of the home is just that. The style, not by neglect.
We all start climbing out and Madison leans forward to the driver. “We will try not to be long. Slong? Wait, I’m drunk.” While she’s doing that, I grab Ridge by the arm, my initial shock over.
“Does she make you happy?”
His eyes twinkle, and he nods. “Yeah, Tip. I wouldn’t be marrying her if she didn’t.”
I sigh. “Well alright then, I supposed I will be your best man. Does she know we used to…”
He chuckles, pulling me under his arm as we make our way up the stairs. My heart begins hammering in my chest when I hear the loud music shaking the house, spilling out the windows. People laughing and bottles crashing comes from the backyard and I momentarily have to talk myself into what it is I’m about to see. “Love that you knew I was going to ask you, and no, she doesn’t.”
I give him a small squeeze with my arm. “Secret is safe.”
Madison shoves the door open, glaring around the place like she’s the queen of fucking everything. There are crowds scattered around everywhere, but it’s funny to watch as every single girl (and guy) eyes us. They know who Madison is, and no one would dare approach her.
I laugh, letting go of Ridge. My brain is muffled somewhat from all the alcohol, but I find myself not being uncomfortable from the unfortunate situation we have found ourselves in. Well, more I have found myself in. Must have been that pep talk a few minutes earlier, and the confidence Madison exudes helps. “Adrenaline Rush” by Twista is playing as we enter the main living room. The walls are all deep reds, with varnished wood lining the middle. There’s a large door that leads out to the pool area where more people are. The music is playing from in this room so the deep base shakes me to my core with Twista’s fast rapping taking over.
“Are you ready!” Madison screams toward somewhere to the left of me. Somewhere I don’t look because I know Nate is there, probably under Tate.
I lick my lips and my eyes start wandering.
Do not look.
I look. My eyes go to Nate, who already has his on me. He’s wearing a cap flipped backward and has no shirt on, displaying his lean muscles and muscles and muscles…and. His black jeans have tears by the knees and his white Chucks are loosely tied on his feet.
Goddammit.
My eyes go back to his, bored. Then he licks his lip and the corner of his mouth kicks up in a sly grin. Fucker. Of course, they don’t disappoint because Tate is on his lap. My eyes fall to his hand that’s on her thigh and I watch as he clenches it tightly.
Madison breaks my attention when she leans into me. “She’s not ready yet so we will wait a few.”
I nod. “Sure thing.” Turning around, I set off to find a drink when I bump into Brantley who is walking down the stairs in the foyer.
“Whattup.” He nudges his head. “Damn, girl.”
I can’t help the small giggle that leaves my mouth. Brantley is quiet, reserved and before that little drama in the forest, never spoke a word to me. Rather, acted as though I was invisible, like he does with everyone.
“I need a drink, and like, something stronger than cocaine to get through this night.”
He doesn’t laugh, because his eyes are still going up and down my body. He hands me his drink and I take it. “You’ve always been hot, don’t get me wrong, but I straight up want to eat you right now.”
Before I can laugh, he yanks me into his chest and starts walking us toward the room Nate and everyone else are in.
Brantley leans into my ear. “Play along.”
As soon as we’re back in the room, Brantley’s arm hooks over my shoulder and he pulls me under. Bishop’s eyes go between both of us and Madison leans back up from taking a line of coke. Great. Now she’s going to be extra wild tonight. I’m not a hater, but I was raised in a neighborhood where drugs actually ruined families, and I don’t mean it in a way that the kids get left with millions of dollars in a trust fund, I mean it as in the kids are left homeless because of the parent’s addiction. It’s just never been my thing.
Madison clears her nose, handing me the rolled-up bill. I shake my head.
Nate shoves Tate off his lap when he sees us, his eyes dropping to icy levels. He brings his drink up to his mouth, his eyes on me.
“What do you say we cockblock the girl’s night out?” Brantley says it to everyone, but I know he’s looking at Nate.
Wait.
“No!” I shake my head, stepping out from under Brantley.
“Good idea.” Nate stands from the couch, grabbing a joint off the table and putting it behind his ear. He snatches his shirt that’s swung behind the sofa, taking his cap off to put it on.
“No!” Madison’s hand comes to Brantley’s chest, but it’s too late, Bishop is yanking her down onto his lap, laying small kisses onto the back of her neck. Jesus, I swear this lot are crazy. Then Bishop stands and takes Madison’s hand. “Let’s go.”
I don’t know what the fuck Brantley is playing it, but I go along with it.
Tillie
I shouldn’t have gone along with it. We all pile into the back of the limo, me sitting opposite Nate, and Brantley sitting on one side of me with Ridge on the other. Tate is on the floor between Nate’s legs and Bishop and Madison are beside him.
Jase leans in through the door, glaring at Madison. “Sort your shit out, Madz. We’ll follow you.” Then he slams it closed.
Great. They’re all coming because of course they are.
I turn to face Brantley, ignoring everyone else. “What about your house?”
He shrugs, lifting the bottle to his lips. I watch as he wraps them around the rim and takes a pull. Liquid leaks from the side of his mouth and drips down his neck. Is it possible for a neck to be sexy? I’m going to go with yes because that’s exactly what Brantley’s is. Then again, he just is that, but he’s dangerous. It’s a lethal combination what he has. Whoever he settles with would have to be just as fucked up as he is because there’s no way any sane and normal—somewhat normal—girl could ever be okay with him. He would scare the shit out of them.
Brantley’s staring down at me, his lips glistening from his drink. “You should probably stop staring at me like that if you don’t wanna get fucked, Princess.”
I shrug, looking away from him when my eyes connect with Nate. He’s glaring at me, like always. “Or Nah” by Ty Dolla $ign starts playing through the loudspeakers, but it’s a different version. It has an electric guitar in the background and sounds live. Better than the real version.
Nate keeps his eyes on me as his hand goes to Tate’s head, then he licks his lip and grins at me as his hand wraps around the front of her throat.
I don’t know what Tate does because I can’t break the eye contact with Nate. He tilts her head backward so it’s resting between his legs, and then he leans over, his eyes still on mine, and licks her across her lips. It feels as though someone has punched me straight in the chest. I struggle to breath. The dress is suddenly too tight, and I’m suddenly not drunk enough.
Fuck him and fuck her. I decide I hate Tate now and there’s no way I’m going to make an effort with her, not unless she stops this shit with Nate. It goes against girl code, King or not. I don’t give a fuck.
I lean into Brantley, and his arm goes over my shoulders. When Nate sits back, his eyes go to Brantley. This isn’t fun because it’s not hurting Tate, and by the looks of it, Nate isn’t bothered.
Nate’s jaw muscles clench. Or maybe it does.
I turn to face Brantley and smirk. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been fucked—” Then I look to Nate. “Right.”
Madison spits out her drink. Nate glares and Bishop barks out a loud laugh.
Once Bishop has stopped laughing, he shoves Nate. “Oh, this is hilarious. Looks like your karma has pink hair.”
Nate still hasn’t taken his eyes off me, his lip curled. “Fuck you.”
I shrug. “You can’t, but Brantley can.”
Nate works his jaw, dragging his eyes away from me. The rest of the trip is filled with everyone talking amongst themselves and Madison trying to plan a big Christmas. Typical of her.
We pull up outside a club with a massive line of people out the front and two big bodyguards holding a clipboard standing at the front entrance. It’s not until I get out of the limo when I realize how drunk I am. It takes a few moments for everything to start spinning, but I’m on a roll. I’m ready to grind up against some random person in the middle of the dance floor.
With Madison glued to Bishop and Tate with Nate, (not that I would drag her with me), I hang back behind them all until the guards let us through. I turn around to see the rest of The Kings following with a couple of other guys that I haven’t met before.
Jase throws his hand over my shoulder. “Tillz, this is Spyder and Ollie, and you know Saint.”
I nod, my eyes falling on the one who looks so much like Bishop it’s weird. The only difference is this guy has like, blue-black hair and strange eyes.
“That one is Spyder,” Jase whispers in my ear. “And if you wanna play, he and Tate have a thing going on.”
“Really.” My eyebrows shoot up, and I see the exact moment Spyder puts two and two together. He’s wearing blue jeans and a white shirt.
Spyder grins at me. “You’re the baby mama, aren’t you…”
I lick my lips. “I am.”
He pulls out a pack of smokes, biting one between his teeth. He lights it. “Yeah, this will be fun.” He steps forward and grabs my hand, pulling me into him where I go happily. Jase is laughing behind me and I’m thankful that even with the weird history between him and Peyton, we can still have a good friendship.
We enter through the doors where “New York” from Ja Rule is playing. This club is closer to Brooklyn, so a fair bit away from where they usually party.
I can feel eyes on me, and I look to the VIP area that’s tucked to the left of the club, away from the dance floor and opposite the bar, but with enough view to see the whole club. Everyone is watching us. Well, Spyder and I. We slowly start making our way over with Jase and Saint when I stop him, my hand grabbing at his arm. I lean up and whisper in his ear. “Let’s dance.”
I shoot a shocked Tate, and an uncomfortable looking Nate one final glare, and slowly grin at them both. I have to fight the urge to flip them off. I’ll save that for another time. Spyder and I make our way to the dance floor, swiping some drinks on the way.
“You and Tate?” I ask Spyder, my hand still on his arm. He’s lean, but not as big as Nate and Bishop. More on the skinny, lean side.
“Yeah,” he growls into my ear. “But since your baby daddy is always around, she’s been using him to ride on my shit.”
I chuckle. “Likewise.” We stop in the middle of the dance floor and his arm wraps around my waist. His eyes drop to mine, a smirk on his face. I don’t know why, but I feel completely comfortable with him. I know we’re using each other, and it feels amazing. I never claimed to be mature, or even sensible. My soul is deep, and the deeper you are, the darker it gets. I’m reckless, impulsive, and I think I’m acquiring an anger problem. So…
I fling my arm around his neck as we dance against each other.
When he drops his forehead to rest against mine, I lick my lips with a grin, but just as I reach for his to press them against mine, he’s being yanked backward, and I’m left with a seething Nate directly in front of me. I tear my eyes away from him as they go back to the VIP section.
Bishop is laughing so hard I almost think he’s going to die, and the rest of them are joining in on it too. Even Brantley looks amused.
I look back to Nate. “What the fuck are you doing?”
His hand comes to my throat and I’m well aware we look like a domestic violence case. He leans into the side of my ear. “What the fuck did I tell you earlier?”
I whack his hand away and he lets me, releasing his grip. “You don’t get a say in who I fuck!” I know I’m yelling, but I’m drunk, frustrated, and fucking hurt. Yes, I’m fucking hurt because aside from not telling him about Micaela, I feel like I have done nothing
to warrant this much wrath.
Nate steps up to me, his body pressing into mine. “Get your fucking ass into that section and stay there, Tillie.”
I’m so frustrated by him that I’m left speechless. I turn around, ready to listen and go and sit down because I’m fucking tired, but instead I take a sharp left turn and run straight for the door.
“Tillie!” I hear Nate yell, but I ignore him.
Kicking off my heels, I pick them up and start running down the partially empty street, passing the long line of awaiting party-goers. I keep running, annoyed, drunk and feeling a little fucking lost with my life.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is everything such a mess and why did I have to have sex with him, like way way back? God, I’m fucking drunk. My running slows as I reach the main street that leads deeper into town. There’re crowds of people now, with the flashing lights and the bright billboards. I swipe the tears off my cheeks. I hate feeling like this. I can’t offer my daughter anything, and I know that in the back of my head, I need to sort out my shit. But while I’m around Nate, I can’t think straight. So. Drunk. He’s constantly playing games with me, games that I don’t mind playing and games that they all play, but right now, I need a nap. Yes, yes I need a nap. And water. And to never drink again. Goddamn Madison. I dip into a small pizza place that looks like it could probably do with a health check, and order spinach and chicken. I’m sitting waiting for my order when my phone starts vibrating against the mustard yellow tabletop for the one-hundredth time since I bolted from the club. It hasn’t stopped ringing, with multiple texts coming through. I don’t want to check the messages just in case I decide to reply.
“Tip?” the pizza boy calls out my name, holding my receipt. I take the box and thank him, tossing an actual tip into the jar before making my way back onto the busy street. I see a taxi at the curb and quickly pull open the door, sliding into the backseat. The pizza box is hot against my thighs, but I don’t care. It reminds me that I can feel, I’m awake and in the now. I am not dead in a gutter. Alcohol is bad. Ba-aa-ad.
