Текст книги "Finn Beckett"

Автор книги: M. J. Fields

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I smirk up at him, feeling just as giddy as he sounds.

“In an airplane.”

“I wonder what state we’re over.” I smile.

“No shit.” He raises his hand. “Miss?”

The flight attendant walks back.

“Where are we?”

“About an hour out.”

“What state?” he asks.

She smiles at him. “I’ll go find out.”

“Thank you.”

She begins walking away.

“Miss?”

She turns around.

“Does the pilot have any of those little plastic wings they give kids?”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Can you ask if I can buy two?”

“Sure…”

***

As soon as we land, I turn on my phone to see if there are any messages. There is one.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s having a scan done’” I answer. “He hates them.”

He pulls me tightly against him. “Where’s he at?”

“I think Riverside Methodist.” I send a text, asking just that. “I don’t want her to know I’m here yet.”

“Why?” he asks, scowling.

“I just don’t want to fight with her.”

“He’s your kid.”

“It’s not that, Finn.” I don’t want him to know I’m sure she blew the money. I don’t want him to judge her. She’s all I have.

“Then what is it?”

“I’d really rather not—”

“She the one who drained your account?”

I look at him and shrug.

“That’s bullshit, Sonya.”

“I’m sure she has a reason. But right now, I want to grab a cab and get to Noah.”

“I have a rental car waiting. I’ll take you.”

I start to object, but he puts his finger over my mouth.

“You aren’t going to take taxis around, looking for your kid.”

“You can’t meet him.” I won’t put him through the possible attachment to a man when I don’t know if he will be in Noah’s life for a long time.

“I never said I was going to, but why?”

“I met many of my mother’s men, Finn. My son won’t go through that. I’m not her.”

He nods and pulls his sunglasses down. “Understood.”

“Finn?”

“Yeah?” he asks as he walks us to the car rental pick up.

“It’s nothing against you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He shrugs. “He’s yours. You gotta do what’s best for him.”

“You’re a good man, Finn, but—”

“I said I understood.”

“I hope so,” I whisper.

He leans down and kisses the side of my head, and for now, it still feels all right.

***

When he pulls up outside the hospital in the black Mercedes SUV, I grab my bag and start to get out, but he grabs my elbow. I lean in and kiss him, and then he sits back.

“Text me and let me know he’s here. I’ll wait until I hear from you.”

I go to get out, but he pulls me back again and kisses me.

“Text me.”

“I will.” I nod.

“Go get your boy better.”

“I’ll do that, too.”

“And don’t forget about me.” He narrows his eyes when he says it.

“Wouldn’t want to. See you later.”

“Text,” he grumbles.

“Okay.” I smile and shut the door, heading inside.

After speaking with patient registration, I find out Noah is here, so I send Finn a message on my way to the elevator. He calls immediately.

“Hi,” I say as I push the fourth floor button.

“He okay?”

“They admitted him, so I am going to say no.” I hit the four again and again until it opens.

“I bet they’re just being cautious.” His voice is soft and comforting.

“I know,” I whisper.

“I’ll be two hours from here. If you need me, you call, and I’ll come. Get it?”

“Got it,” I reply.

“Good.”

I walk past the nurse’s station and straight for room 321 where the receptionist, who remembered me from prior visits, told me my son is.

When I walk in, he sits up.

“Mommy?”

“Who else would it be?” I try to stay calm as I practically run to him.

“I thought you was in Florida,” he says as he enunciates every syllable.

“I heard my favorite person in the universe wasn’t feeling good.”

He smiles and throws his arms around me, and I hug him tight.

“No wires, Mommy,” he whispers.

“That’s good, buddy,” I whisper back.

“Just a picture.” He points to his chest.

“A chest x-ray?”

He nods.

I lean back and look at him, taking his hands and holding them in the air to inspect. “You’re correct. Wow, that’s super cool. So why are you stayin’ the night?”

“Aunt Margie is sick. She been sleepin’ lots. I guess I’m sick, ’cause I didn’t get my breathing treatment when she was sleepin’. I tried to do it myself, but,” he leans in and whispers, “I was a scared of the cord.”

“Afraid of the cord? I’m proud of you, buddy. So proud that you didn’t touch it.”

“Not without adult supervision.”

“How did you get here today, Noah?”

“She drived.”

“Aunt Margie drove?”

“Yes, she droved,” he says, correcting himself. “She was really tired. She almost falled asleep walking in. The doctor taked her on a stretcher for a checkup.”

“Okay, well, how about you lie back. I am going to turn on the TV and go talk to the nurse right down there. Then I will be right back, Noah. I will be right back.”

I hug him tight again and then walk out of his room. I stand against the wall, trying to stop the trembling in my hands. After I feel like I can face her, I walk to the nurses’ station and wait for one of them to notice me.

“Can I help you?”

“Is Marguerite Thugington on this floor?”

“Are you—”

“Sonya. Sonya DeAmore,” I say.

I see it on her face. She knows who I am, and not just because my son is here, but because she remembers my story.

“Yes, sweetheart, let me get the doctor.”

I wait for what feels like an eternity for her to return. When she does, it’s with about four other hospital staff. They all try to look busy, but I know they just want to get a look at the girl they all watched on TV as her life slipped away.

It has been like this all my life. Some look at me with pity, some with curiosity, and some as if I am a freak. I always assume it’s because of my choice to keep Noah.

“I’m Dr. Gray. Come with me?”

“Where?” I ask, not moving.

“To speak to your aunt.”

I point to Noah’s room. “My four-year-old, very sweet, very smart little boy is lying in bed, and I walked in there without being questioned by anyone. I’m not leaving here unless someone sits with him.” I look at the staff. “And that someone better not look at him the way you have all looked at me.”

“I can assure you this is a professional—”

I look around and point to the oldest nurse on staff. “Will you sit with him?”

“Yes, dear, I will.”

Assured, I follow Dr. Gray down the hall where she opens a door, and we walk in to find Margie sitting up.

“I told you not to come. Told you he was fine.”

“But you? You’re not fine, are you?” I ask, standing at the foot of her hospital bed.

“The pain from my TMJ has been bothering me, so I took some pain pills to help me out. You know how Noah can be,” she whispers. “I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until—”

“I spoke to you on the phone less than six hours ago. You didn’t sound exhausted.”

“I think I had a bad reaction to my medication, young lady, and your tone is not appreciated.”

“You driving with my son in this state is not appreciated,” I spit back at her.

I turn to Dr. Gray. “Is my son well enough to go home?”

“He has pneumonia and shouldn’t be at his school for at least a week. Treatments every six hours. His record indicates that he has been through this before. Take him to his pediatrician in a week for a follow up, sooner if needed,” she says.

“My aunt?” I ask without looking at Margie.

“She should stay the night.”

“Thank you, Dr. Gray. I’d like a moment alone with my aunt please, and then I will be out to take Noah home.”

As soon as she leaves, I look back at Margie.

“You have no right to speak to me the way you just did. Do you know what could happen if they told the authorities I was driving with Noah? I could be arrested, Sonya. Think! You have no one but family,” she snaps. “And if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have him.”

“But that didn’t matter to you today when you drove with him. That didn’t mean a damn thing to you,” I give her attitude back.

She looks at me almost smugly. “Well, well, well, what has happened to you in the past few weeks? That kind of attitude only comes from a girl who thinks she is a woman. We both know what happened the last time you—”

“Stop,” I say, knowing where she is going and hating it.

“Truth hurt, Sonya? Your mother had your looks and see where it got her? She’s off finding the next man to fund her choice of lifestyles while the rest of us—the ones she dragged into this whole thing—suffer. We take twenty dollars here, fifty there, and eat it up like a dog getting a tasty, little treat, but never a full bowl. Did you find someone, Sonya? And if yes, do you remember what happened the last time you thought love could save you from the hell of a mansion on the hill, hidden behind the security of a gate—”

“Stop,” I plead.

“You need to stop.” She points at me with a look of disgust.

I dig deep for courage. This woman may have saved me from living in a home or facing my peers by enabling me with home school, but she put my son—my Noah—at risk today.

“You need to get help. Don’t come home until you do.”

“How dare you—”

“Where is the fifteen thousand dollars that was in the account, Margie? Where is the money that I needed to get home today?” I snap, snatching her purse off the windowsill and looking for the keys.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my keys so I can drive Noah home.”

As I start to walk away, her voice stops me.

“Your cousins needed help. We are family; they are my children. I chose to come here and help you, uproot them from where they grew up, and look what has become of their lives, Sonya. Selfish, selfish Sonya. If they need help, we give it to them.”

Remembering Finn’s words, I look at her. “If they are hungry, they should work for it like everyone else does. I have a mortgage on a house that was paid for because they needed help. When is enough, enough?”

Her eyes grow wide and angry. “When I can take care of them like I do you and Noah.”

I turn and walk toward the door.

“Don’t you walk away from me!”

I repeat what I said before, “Don’t come home until you are clean.”

I waited outside the hospital until she sent me a text. She said she will call me she is going to take her boy home, but he has to be out of school for ten days. She also told me she will call me later. She was short and to the point, and as a guy, I appreciate that. However, as someone trying to figure out where this path is leading, it kind of fucked with me.

I pull down the dusty gravel road toward what used to be home at the very end of a dead end road.  I laugh at the irony.

Coming here wasn’t easy. It brings back memories and heightened emotions.

Nothing has changed except the few houses look older and less taken care of. I still see the remains of the old mobile mansion. The place went up when good old Mom stepped outside while she was cooking up meth. No clue what the hell she even came out for. It wasn’t like she was bringing lemonade to me and the old man. She was probably fucked up and lost. Lucky for her, she didn’t die inside the tin can, but was it really? Her life was a joke. She was a waste of fucking air. Now she’s living it up with a different man every couple months, last I knew. I stopped giving a shit six years ago.

I pull over before I get too close, just to take in the place where I grew up. Yes, grew up, and fast, too. I had to.

The old porch is still standing and the ground is still charred. No idea why Dad hasn’t tried to do some work, bring in some soil or something to cover it, or at least torch the porch so it isn’t still taking up space. The whole place is a fucking eyesore.

Do I hate my mother? Maybe. Do I blame her for all the shit that went wrong in my life over the last ten or so years? Abso-fucking-lutely. Do I dwell on it, let it draw me down? No. I stayed the fuck away and went after what I wanted, and now I have it. I am living my dream, one not bought from selling drugs or selling out, but earned from the blood, sweat, and tears of many, many years.

I throw the SUV in drive and hit the gas, the tires kicking up loose gravel. I speed past the burned can and to the left, toward the garage.

There are about five cars in the old driveway waiting for the old man or the owners to pick them up and about twenty heaps of shit in the field beside the garage.

Throwing the car in park, I get out and walk toward the door that says, ‘Beckett and Son.’ I open the door and the bell jingles, though it’s not much of a warning that someone is coming in when the air compressor is blatting and the grease gun is whining.

The smell of oil fills my senses and gone is the scent of her.

I see Dad bent over a car with the hood open, a shop rag hanging from his back pocket.

“Yo! Old man!” I yell to him like I always did back then.

I hear his deep laugh, and he takes a step back before standing.

“Not much older than you, boy.” He smiles, wiping his hands on the rag. “Sixteen when I—”

“Got her knocked up,” I finish his sentence and smile.

“What’s the difference between a pregnant woman and a light bulb, son?”

“Can’t unscrew a pregnant woman,” I answer.

“Wouldn’t want to, either. Something good came out of her.”

“How you doing?” I walk over and give him a quick hug.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“You feel like going out to dinner?”

He shakes his head. “Now, you know the answer to that.”

My dad never goes out. He hates it, says it’s a waste of time and money getting all dressed up so someone else can cook for you. Then you have to pay them. If he’s gonna get dressed up and hit the town, he would rather be getting laid, not having a meal.

“Got steaks in the car.”

“Gimme ten minutes to finish old lady Smith’s car and get washed up.”

“The grill have propane?” I ask.

“Sure does, but how about charcoal tonight?” He smirks.

“On it.”

I walk out and around to the back, smiling when I see the patio off the back of the apartment he added on to the garage after the fire. A brick fire pit was built in the far corner. There are a couple benches, even some shrubs, and a couple pots that have flowers planted.

“Place looks good, right?” my old man asks, slapping me on the back.

“Yeah, it does.” I smile. “Where’s the charcoal?”

“I can get it after I take a quick shower.” He walks toward the sliding glass doors that enter the palace.

“Dad, where is it?” I laugh.

He points to one of the benches. “Bags are in there.”

I open the bench, grab the charcoal and lighter fluid, and carry it to the pit.

When he comes out, he’s in jeans and a sweatshirt that says Carhart. I laugh to myself because, back in the day, anything with that logo was our equivalent to a fucking Armani suit. I send him Levis and Carharts every Father’s Day and every year on his birthday.

“Looking good, old man,” I say as I pull out my Zippo and light it up.

Dad shakes his head when I stand back.

“What?” I ask.

“You still got Glenda’s lighter.”

“My life changed that day. It’s a reminder.”

“All of our lives changed that day. She went to jail, you got hauled away to foster care, and me ... I sat in it.”

“Sat in what?”

“Shit.” He motions toward our old place.

“And it still stands,” I remark, looking at it.

“Took me forever to convince them I wasn’t fucked up like her so that I could get you back.” He snaps his fingers. “Then in the blink of an eye, you were gone.”

“Had things to do,” I say, feeling the weight of his words.

“Made a name for yourself.” He smiles. “I’m proud of you, son.”

I look at him, never having heard him say that before. He winks and then looks at the old place.

“Looks like you’re doing well, too, Dad. Just one thing needs to go.”

“What’s that?”

“That fucking relic.” I laugh, bending down to grab the lighter fluid. “You feel up to a bonfire?”

“You have her lighter; I have that pile of shit.”

“I’ll use the lighter to spark that pile of shit and toss it on. Neither of us need the reminder.”

“You forgive me finally?” he asks.

“Forgive you for what?” I have no clue what the hell he’s talking about. He didn’t do a damn thing.

“Not booting her ass before she fucked everything up, burnt down our place, and got you sent away.”

“Wasn’t your fault.” Never thought it was. He was the only consistency I had.

“I knew what she was doing. I fought it, but my words fell on the deaf ears of a junkie I was enabling. I should have booted her. If I had, you wouldn’t have been sent to that place, and you would never have lost the girl and—”

“I don’t blame you, Dad. Hell, I don’t even blame Glenda anymore. Don’t even think about her.” I turned it off like a switch, one that, when turned back on, was like a scene from a hoarders show, roaches scattering back into the darkened corner. I would rather leave the light off.

“But you don’t come home,” he says quietly. “Can’t blame you.”

“I was finding my way, and I found it, Dad. I’m home for a couple days.”

We stand quietly, looking at the ruins.

“I want that fucking thing gone. You game?”

He smirks. “I think we got ten minutes before we throw those steaks on.” He nods. “Better be damn good steaks, too.”

“Got a bag of clams, too, old man.”

“You don’t say? What are you, making millions now or something?”

“No.” I laugh. “But I won’t stop until I do.”

“That’s my boy.” He pats my back.

I reach down to grab the lighter fluid.

“Son, that ain’t gonna do shit. Let me grab the gas can.”

***

I spend two days with my old man. The first, we eat steak and clams, his favorite, and the next, we rake up the burnt remnants of the old tin can. Then we eat steak again.

At night, while he is sacked out in his recliner, I message back and forth with Sonya, who is busy getting her boy better. I understand and respect that a hell of a lot more than she will ever understand, but I miss her.

Taelyn and she talked. Sonya’s okay to stay at home for the next ten days. Apparently, X’s and her son was a preemie, too. As a result, they totally get what she is going through.

Two of the tour stops are in Cleveland, and I will be making damn sure I get to see her then.

When I get back to Florida, the auditions for the opening act are in full swing.

Sonya and I send messages daily—several times a day, actually—about work, the opening acts’ social status locally and globally, and how they would benefit us as a group. She is also apparently designing a website for the band. She calls it a portal through the wall of Steel we hide behind. I read some of the bio stuff, and she is a wordsmith for sure. She makes a group of otherwise normal guys sound like a mysterious group of musical magicians with mysterious and mystical talent. She also sells the hell out of what she calls our sex appeal. It was something she was against when she was hanging with the chicks with dicks crew.

I smile, thinking I brought her out of that just in time. Now she is a chick who likes my dick and my dick loves her.

I am doing my part. Well, as best I can when I’m not deep in my head. I am on a road of contentment for the first time in years in both my personal and professional life. I am in a lyrically lucid headspace as far as my music, and personally, I feel the cracks in my soul being magically healed, all because a couple weeks ago a girl terrified me, and I couldn’t walk away. Such a tiny, little thing to be afraid of.

Orlando is amazing, and Tampa is just as good. After that, we are in route to Atlanta, where apparently a new tour bus is waiting for us. Fucking crazy. Abso-fucking-lute insanity.

The rest of the world doesn’t know it, but that one fucking song Memphis’s ass tricked me into singing fixed something upstairs in the old brain. For once, as fucked up as it sounds admitting it to myself, I felt accepting of the applause at the end.

River is high all the time, astronomically so. I try to reel him in, knowing damn well it won’t work—never has before—so I just become the safety police to an out of control drummer. I don’t mind. Billy tagged in while I was tripping on my own shit; therefore, the least I can do is give him a break.

When we walk out of Philips Arena in Atlanta, and a big, black, shiny bus pulls up with the words Steel Total Destruction in silver splashed over the faded shocker symbol, we all kind of freak.

“That is one sexy bus,” Memphis claps his hands together and rubs them up and down. “Tales, only groupies allowed on this bus, babe.”

“What?” Her smile falls and she looks mortified.

“You’ve got to start thinking about my needs as a fucking rock star. I can’t be just a boyfriend. Hell, I have a bus to prove it.” He is teasing her, but she doesn’t seem to be catching on. “You don’t mind the groupie thing, do you, Tales?” He reaches out, but she pulls back, so he grabs her and pulls her into his arms, whispering in her ear. She starts giggling and covers her mouth. “You up for it?”

She nods and throws her arms around him. “Heck yes.”

***

Sixteen hours on a bus with Tally and Memphis in the one bedroom, banging like newlyweds; River clam baking in the bunk under me; and Billy on his computer across the aisle may sound like a fucking dream, but it isn’t. As much as I used to hate flying before the back-row blowjob, I would give anything to be in the air with her.

Just the thought of it gets me all worked up. I try to call her and get sent to voicemail then immediately get a text message.

Getting Noah to sleep. How’s the bus? Call you soon.

After an hour, she still hasn’t called, so I close my eyes and try to go to sleep. The image in my head makes it impossible, though. Fuck!

With my dick like steel and my mind on her, I grab my phone and look at her websites. She posted something ten minutes ago. I have no problem with her little man being in front of me; that’s half the reason I feel the way I do about her—she is so fucking strong and so damn soft at the same time. But I will be damned if I’m second to a review site.

Knowing I’m acting like a little bitch doesn’t help, not with a hard-on in my sweats and her on my mind. As a result, I climb out of my bunk and grab a couple tissues from the bathroom then climb back in, hoping to ease at least one of the burdens I’m carrying. Maybe then I will be able to sleep, hopefully for the next fourteen hours.

I click on her other site again to find another post up, and she didn’t schedule that shit. She’s still up.

I prop the phone up, shove my sweats down, and grab ahold of myself. Then I look over at my phone, making sure it’s positioned right, and hit video.

“Miles and time don’t erase you from my mind, Sonya,” I say as I begin to stroke myself. “I’d rather hear your voice, but you give me no choice.” I continue to stroke. “So I have to take matters”—I pause—“in my own hands. Do I have your attention now?”

I hit send before letting myself finish the job.

She calls as I am about ready to come, and I grab the fucking phone, wanting to hear her voice as I do.

“Hey,” I groan.

“You really shouldn’t send things like that, Finn. What if—”

“I’m going out of my mind missing you. Say something nice, Yaya; don’t argue with me right now.”

“I miss you, too,” she whispers.

“More. Tell me more.”

“Well, the picture made me miss more than just your arms.”

“Yeah, keep going with that thought. What did you miss about it?”

“It’s beautiful, big, and strong, Finn. Just like you.”

“More. Tell me more.”

“I want you in my mouth again. That was a first for me. I didn’t think I’d like it, but damn if I don’t crave it when—”

“Almost there. Fuck, look what you are doing to me. Never needed it or wanted it like I do with you.”

“Oh, my God, are you—”

“So much hotter than I ever thought it would be. More, dammit, more.”

“Really?” Her voice hits a higher pitch than usual.

“Without a doubt,” I groan.

“I’m oddly turned on by this.”

“Fuuucckkk,” I hiss, dropping the phone to grab the tissues.

“Are you there?” I hear her voice.

“Don’t hang up. Just give me a minute,” I grunt as my come fills the tissues. I then grab the phone. “Hey.”

“Did that really just happen?” she whispers.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Desperate?”

“I don’t mind playing second fiddle to your little boy. I actually would insist if it wasn’t the case.”

“Good to know,” she says quietly.

“But the website, that pissed me off.”

“The what?”

“You were posting your reviews,” I tell her as I pull my pants up and head back into the bathroom.

“You’re stalking me?”

“I guess I am.”

She laughs, and I can’t help seeing how ridiculous it must seem to her.

“I like what we have going, not the distance. That”—I look at a tissue in my hand—“blows.” I toss it in the toilet and flush. “But the you and me part, I like that a lot. I guess what I’m trying to say is I miss you. I miss you so damn much I’m jerking off to get your attention.”

“Well, it worked.” I hear a smile in her voice. “And now I am seriously jealous of your hand.”

I laugh as I climb back in the bunk. “You coming to Cleveland still?”

“I’m trying really hard to make it work, Finn. I am. And I miss you madly.”

“Good to hear.”

“I do, more than I can even understand. I never thought I would feel this way about anyone.”

“I feel it, too. I feel it deep.”

“How is this gonna end?” she asks so quietly I can barely make it out.

“Let’s not focus on the end, Sonya. Let’s focus on Cleveland.”

“It’s going to hurt like hell.”

“Oh, no, Yaya, it’s gonna feel so damn good. I promise you that.”

***

“This is a fucking joke,” I say as we go through the notes we made at the Excel Energy Center where we held the auditions. “None of them work, not fucking one.”

“Someone needs to go back home.” River chuckles.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap.

“Don’t,” Memphis says, warning him.

I look around to find they are all looking at me. “Fuck that. Let’s have it.”

“No big deal, Finn.” Billy pats me on the back, and River huffs out loud.

“Apparently it is. Spill it,” I say, looking at River.

“Do you think we’re all stupid? We know you and Yaya have something going on. You weren’t hanging with me or Billy the whole first part of the trip. You didn’t say goodbye or even come back with an explanation as to why you skated through the Florida tour stops. You’re on that fucking phone all the time, and you sure as hell aren’t pulling your weight here.”

“You better step the fuck away from the pipe and recognize who you’re pissing on right now, and let me tell you, it’s not yourself like it used to be,” I lash out, immediately feeling like shit about it, but fuck him.

“You really just said that shit to me?” he asks in disbelief. “He did not just say that fucking shit to the man who has walked by his side for years now.”

“There are certain things that are beyond even that. My personal life is one of them.”

“Personal life?” He laughs. “What personal life? We’ve fucked girls in the same room. Hell, we’ve DP’d girls.”

“That was a different time,” I snap.

“Hey.” He holds his hands up. “I know she’s not a hot rocker chick, but I’m game if you wanna play together. No need to go it alone, brother.”

When I lunge across the table and grab him by the collar, Memphis grabs me and Billy grabs him.

“Don’t you talk about her like that, you motherfucker!”

“Let’s go,” Memphis says as he pulls me toward the exit.

“There is nothing off limits between us! I love you like a brother, man. More than a brother.”

“You crossed a fucking line!” I scream at him.

River beats his hands on his chest. “Hard to cross something you never knew existed! Fuck you, Beckett! Fuck you!”

Billy drags him into the bathroom, and I pull away from Memphis.

“Don’t fucking do it, man,” Memphis warns, putting his hand on my chest and stopping me from going after him. “Just don’t.”

I storm out the door and reach in my pocket, searching for something, yet all I get is a fucking Blow Pop.

“Is it true?”

I look back to see Tally and Memphis.

Memphis takes her hand. “Tales, let him be.”

“No, I want to know. I hope it’s true,” she says to him then looks at me. “Is it?”

“Sonya and I are friends,” I say, unwrapping the fucking Blow Pop and shoving it in my mouth.

She pulls out her phone, smiling like the Cheshire Cat as she holds it up and walks toward me. “I knew it!”

“Jesus, Tales, let it be.” Memphis laughs.

“No. No way. Look at this picture from Dallas.”

She hands me her phone, and there’s a shot from the parking lot on the screen. I am holding Sonya, and she is looking up at me. Great picture, but what the fuck?

“What are you, the paparazzi?”

“Easy, Beckett,” Memphis cautions.

“Send it to yourself. That is a seriously hot picture. You two are perfect together. You can see it in your faces. Love, love all around, and—”

“Easy,” I say, shaking my head. “Like I said, we’re friends.”

“More.” She is not letting up.

“Who knows? But right now—”

“You fucking her?”

Tally laughs and covers her mouth. “They so are. You can see it. Look.” She takes the phone from me and hands it to Memphis, who smirks and looks at it, then me.

“Definitely fucking … your friend.” He hands me the phone and covers Tally’s ears. “She’s hot as hell, man. Good tag.”

I try to look pissed, but he sees the truth. “She’s a nice girl. Doesn’t want our friendship to be public, and I don’t, either.”

“Understood. So will River. DP, man? Fuck. Nice.” Memphis grins. “This will blow over when he hits the pipe. You gonna let that happen?”

“Memphis …” Tally pulls at his hands. “Let go of my ears.”

“Shit, babe, sorry, but there are some things you don’t need to hear.”

“Or that you think I can’t handle. I know what DP is.”

His eyes get huge and then he looks pissed. “Don’t you ever ask for shit like that.”

“Well, if you think it’s so ‘nice.’ ” She air quotes, looking pissed before she turns around and tries not to smile.

“I would sooner rip a motherfucker’s heart out than share you with anyone, Tales. Then I’d be locked up and taking it in the ass by some sick fuck, and I guarantee I wouldn’t be down for that, so you better…” As she covers her mouth and starts to laugh, he spins her around. “You fucking with me, Tales?”

“You made me mad.”

“Jealous you mean.” She nods. “My bad. Won’t do it again. Come here.” He hugs her and winks. “You good?”

“Yes,” she says.

He smiles and nods toward me. He was talking about me, but she thought it was about her.

“Tales and I are gonna go have make up sex. You should stay away from River. We can all meet up in about an hour and—”

“Did you just tell him we were going to have—?”

“Don’t worry about it, Tally. We all heard you going at it the entire trip here,” I tell her, then turn to walk away.

“You told me it was sound proof!” I hear her smack Memphis and can’t help laughing.