Deceptions
Page 93
“Well, if you put it that way . . .” I walked over and picked up a pool cue.
CJ grinned. Wallace only shook his head.
“You rack them up. I’ll get the drinks.” CJ glanced at me. “You know how to rack them up?”
“Nine balls and a convenient triangle to place them in.”
“Good girl.” He walked to the bar and held up two bottles for me to choose from. When I did, he said, “You like power over price tag, huh, Livy?”
“It’s Liv,” Wallace rumbled, his first words since Ricky had left.
I shrugged. “Liv, Livy, Olivia . . . whatever works.”
“How about Eden?” said a voice from across the room.
We all turned. The guy who’d spoken sat at one of the tables, with Lily on his knee. He wasn’t anyone I’d noticed before—maybe late twenties, making him one of the younger guys in the room. Dark-haired. Smirking.
“What’d you say?” CJ delivered my tequila shot and kept walking, advancing on the guy.
“I asked if she ever goes by Eden. Valid question.”
Lily snickered. She stopped at dual looks—one from CJ and one from her mother—and she slid off the guy’s lap.
“Yeah?” CJ said. “Here’s a valid question. What the fuck is your name? ’Cause I don’t think you’ve been here long enough for me to remember it. Which means you haven’t been here long enough to open your mouth. Especially if you’re going to ask stupid, invalid questions.”
The guy lifted his hands. “Sorry. I was just teasing the girl.”
“The girl?” CJ stopped behind the guy, who had the sense to rise and face him, his posture submissive—shoulders down, gaze lowered, a dumbass smile on his face. “Who is the girl? And be very, very careful how you answer that.”
“She’s, um, Ricky’s old lady.”
“And who is Ricky?”
The guy paused, and I sensed disrespect in that pause. After a moment he said, “He’s the road captain, right?” A self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry, I guess I’m not ready for the membership exam, huh? I’m still getting used to the titles.”
He babbled on for another few minutes, until CJ silenced him with, “You ever want to have a chance of becoming a prospect, boy? You’ll learn to keep your mouth shut. It’s not one of the official rules, but for some people, it ought to be.”
To join the Saints, you first had to get to know guys from the club. If they approved, you could hang around while they vetted you. If they liked what they saw, you became a prospect and got to wear part of the colors while the club put you through your paces—a process that could last years. Only then did you become a patched member.
While Ricky was old enough to have his patch, he was young for road captain. But it was a message from Don. My kid is on the succession track. He’s going to prove to you that he can handle it, but if you don’t like the idea, the door is over there.
CJ left the guy alone after that and gave me a pool lesson as he downed two beers. Wallace watched and drank nothing. When we started a game, CJ invited Wallace to join in, but he only grunted, arms crossed, looking as if he could think up a hundred and one better ways to spend his evening.
“We’ll play,” someone called.
It was the guy from earlier, sauntering over with his arm around Lily.
“Sit the fuck back down,” CJ said.
“No,” Wallace said. “That’s up to Ms. Jones.”
I snuck a look at Wallace. Did he expect me to stand firm and refuse to play with people who’d mocked me? Or rise above the insults?
“It’s fine,” I said.
Wallace’s expression didn’t change, and I got the feeling there was no right answer. He just wanted to see which I’d pick.
The game went fine for about fifteen minutes. I’ll flatter myself and say that I did reasonably well, considering my inexperience, but that didn’t keep Lily and her new beau—conveniently named Beau—from smirking and sharing eye rolls every time I missed a shot.
Finally, Lily said, “You don’t belong here, you know.”
CJ started to answer, but a look from Wallace stopped him.
“I know,” I said. “I’m going to need a lot more practice.”
“I mean here,” she said. “In the club. With Ricky.”
“He seems to think otherwise.”
I said it calmly, but as I reached to line up for my shot, Lily suddenly took hers, the ball cracking hard against my hand.
“Whoops,” she said.
“Lily . . .” CJ warned under his breath.
I turned to her. “I’m not in your way.”
“Huh?”
I met her gaze. “It wasn’t happening, even without me here.”
I was trying to convey the message as obliquely as possible, but when I went to line up my shot again, another ball smacked into my knuckles.
“Let me put that more bluntly,” I said, setting down my cue. “I’m not stopping you from getting Ricky.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My mistake. If you’ll just play pool, then so will I.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
CJ cut in. “That if you don’t shut your mouth, neither will she, and I don’t think you’re going to like what she has to say, Lily-girl.”
CJ grinned. Wallace only shook his head.
“You rack them up. I’ll get the drinks.” CJ glanced at me. “You know how to rack them up?”
“Nine balls and a convenient triangle to place them in.”
“Good girl.” He walked to the bar and held up two bottles for me to choose from. When I did, he said, “You like power over price tag, huh, Livy?”
“It’s Liv,” Wallace rumbled, his first words since Ricky had left.
I shrugged. “Liv, Livy, Olivia . . . whatever works.”
“How about Eden?” said a voice from across the room.
We all turned. The guy who’d spoken sat at one of the tables, with Lily on his knee. He wasn’t anyone I’d noticed before—maybe late twenties, making him one of the younger guys in the room. Dark-haired. Smirking.
“What’d you say?” CJ delivered my tequila shot and kept walking, advancing on the guy.
“I asked if she ever goes by Eden. Valid question.”
Lily snickered. She stopped at dual looks—one from CJ and one from her mother—and she slid off the guy’s lap.
“Yeah?” CJ said. “Here’s a valid question. What the fuck is your name? ’Cause I don’t think you’ve been here long enough for me to remember it. Which means you haven’t been here long enough to open your mouth. Especially if you’re going to ask stupid, invalid questions.”
The guy lifted his hands. “Sorry. I was just teasing the girl.”
“The girl?” CJ stopped behind the guy, who had the sense to rise and face him, his posture submissive—shoulders down, gaze lowered, a dumbass smile on his face. “Who is the girl? And be very, very careful how you answer that.”
“She’s, um, Ricky’s old lady.”
“And who is Ricky?”
The guy paused, and I sensed disrespect in that pause. After a moment he said, “He’s the road captain, right?” A self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry, I guess I’m not ready for the membership exam, huh? I’m still getting used to the titles.”
He babbled on for another few minutes, until CJ silenced him with, “You ever want to have a chance of becoming a prospect, boy? You’ll learn to keep your mouth shut. It’s not one of the official rules, but for some people, it ought to be.”
To join the Saints, you first had to get to know guys from the club. If they approved, you could hang around while they vetted you. If they liked what they saw, you became a prospect and got to wear part of the colors while the club put you through your paces—a process that could last years. Only then did you become a patched member.
While Ricky was old enough to have his patch, he was young for road captain. But it was a message from Don. My kid is on the succession track. He’s going to prove to you that he can handle it, but if you don’t like the idea, the door is over there.
CJ left the guy alone after that and gave me a pool lesson as he downed two beers. Wallace watched and drank nothing. When we started a game, CJ invited Wallace to join in, but he only grunted, arms crossed, looking as if he could think up a hundred and one better ways to spend his evening.
“We’ll play,” someone called.
It was the guy from earlier, sauntering over with his arm around Lily.
“Sit the fuck back down,” CJ said.
“No,” Wallace said. “That’s up to Ms. Jones.”
I snuck a look at Wallace. Did he expect me to stand firm and refuse to play with people who’d mocked me? Or rise above the insults?
“It’s fine,” I said.
Wallace’s expression didn’t change, and I got the feeling there was no right answer. He just wanted to see which I’d pick.
The game went fine for about fifteen minutes. I’ll flatter myself and say that I did reasonably well, considering my inexperience, but that didn’t keep Lily and her new beau—conveniently named Beau—from smirking and sharing eye rolls every time I missed a shot.
Finally, Lily said, “You don’t belong here, you know.”
CJ started to answer, but a look from Wallace stopped him.
“I know,” I said. “I’m going to need a lot more practice.”
“I mean here,” she said. “In the club. With Ricky.”
“He seems to think otherwise.”
I said it calmly, but as I reached to line up for my shot, Lily suddenly took hers, the ball cracking hard against my hand.
“Whoops,” she said.
“Lily . . .” CJ warned under his breath.
I turned to her. “I’m not in your way.”
“Huh?”
I met her gaze. “It wasn’t happening, even without me here.”
I was trying to convey the message as obliquely as possible, but when I went to line up my shot again, another ball smacked into my knuckles.
“Let me put that more bluntly,” I said, setting down my cue. “I’m not stopping you from getting Ricky.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My mistake. If you’ll just play pool, then so will I.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
CJ cut in. “That if you don’t shut your mouth, neither will she, and I don’t think you’re going to like what she has to say, Lily-girl.”
