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In the midst of my morbid thoughts, I suddenly heard Dagger say, “Is Girly-Girl likin’ her some ‘leather wearin’, exhaust pipe smokin’ men?”
Disorientated by the joking tone during such a serious moment, I gawked. “W-What?... Wait.” I twitched at the insult. “Girly-Girl?”
Condescendingly, Dagger gestured to my attire and shrugged. “You’re so decked out in expensive shit, I don’t know what else to call ‘ya.”
The clothes on my back were more like a collar and leash Lorenzo forced on me, so I scoffed, “Oh yeah? Well—” I was sick and tired of being a trophy. I was beyond my appearance being my worth. Deep down, I knew I had much more to offer. “This ‘expensive shit’ is all dripping in blood, you muffler-toking eejits.”
Both men looked at each other, mouthing, “Eejits?”
I lifted my chin with so much defiance that my neck muscles strained. “I’d say that makes me a perfect Old Lady—”
My whole entire body jolted. What am I saying?
Dagger raised a rebellious brow. “You were sayin’, Girly-Girl?”
His implication had my eyes ready to burn holes in him and his shitty theory, but Legend, appearing mischievously pleased, said, “We can argue over your club name later, Girly-Girl, but until then, let’s just stroll on past your denial and get to business.”
Being called Girly-Girl again was infuriating! And the suggestion that I needed to stroll past my feelings was beyond aggravating. I wanted to strangle both men! “My denial?” How dare they call me out on all the bullshit I’m spewing! “Fine! I don’t want to let VP go! Is that really so hard to believe? Look at him.” I viewed Lynx. The sight of him instantly calmed my nerves that these leathered morons were stomping on. “He’s so… sweet.”
“What?” the two men squawked as Dagger ran to Legend’s side so they could both stare at Lynx as if he were morphing into an alien, right before their eyes.
I cooed, “Tender.”
They recoiled. “No.”
“And…” with one hand, I pushed hair from Lynx’s forehead, “he’s so…” I sighed the undeniable truth, “lovable.”
They hissed.
Lifting an upper lip, Dagger gestured to Lynx while insisting, “This here is a deadly motherfucker. Stop calling him loveable and shit.”
I had clearly offended them. “Well, why can’t he be both?”
“The fuck?” Legend leaned back as if I was suddenly contagious with some sort of pansy disease. “Are you calling my son a pussy?”
Baffled, I tried to correct my meaning. “Not at all! I’m just trying to explain how beautiful he is.”
“The fuck?” More hisses echoed in the small room.
Dagger snarled. “It took at least twenty minutes to wipe him free of blood. That ain’t ‘beautiful’. That’s Stallion-like.”
What is happening? “I’m not sure what being a horse has to do with gore.”
Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.
Legend questioned, “My son just had a bullet carved from his stomach. You don’t think that makes him a Stallion?”
I winced. “I actually believe that makes him quite lucky to be alive.”
Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.
As if I had spoken blasphemy, Dagger’s expression turned to complete disbelief as he stumbled backward. “Luck? No, Girly-Girl, there’s no ‘luck’ in being a wolf.”
Now absolutely bewildered, I asked, “So, is he a horse or a dog?”
Stumble. Stumble. Hiss. Hiss.
“A dog—Did she just say dog?” asked Dagger, in shock.
