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Even with the things we’ve put her through, I’ve never seen Gail like this. But I don’t mind admitting it’s fucking hot to see her stand her ground like this.
“Honey,” Simone says, flinging her hair over her shoulder. “Could you step aside and let the important people talk?”
“Fuck off,” I growl. I want to say more, but Gail’s elbow connecting with my stomach lets me know she wants to run this show.
Her stance is defiant, protective in a way that sends a ripple of warmth through me. She’s staking her claim, and damn if that doesn’t make me want her even more. “I could,” Gail volleys, perfectly matching the condescending tone Simone is using. “But I’m not going to. You see, unlike you, I know a good thing when I have it. So why would I leave Mickey’s embrace?”
The shrill laughter coming from Simone is grating on my fucking nerves. “Oh, honey. You’re nothing more than a warm place for their cocks. Don’t flatter yourself by thinking you’re important,” Simone hisses, taking a step closer.
I instinctively tighten my hold on Gail, ready to pull her out of Simone’s reach if needed.
Gail tilts her head to the side. “I know what I am.” Her tone is practically dripping in venom. “But I also know what you are. I know all about you, Simone. I know that you’re nothing but an unemployed two-timing gold digger who is worried she can’t support her three kids. I mean, that’s why you’re here, right? Because you know that Jared’s one penalty away from losing his contract with the Jersey Jags.”
What the fuck? I didn’t know any of that… as far as I knew, Simone and Jared only had one kid. Then again, it’s not like I’ve been keeping up with their lives, so I guess anything is possible. But if Jared was that close to losing his contract, I feel like I would have heard it somewhere.
I look at Soren, who just shrugs, and Sawyer’s reaction is the same. Guess they didn’t know either. I’m about to turn my attention back on Simone when I’m jostled from behind, and I momentarily lose my hold on Gail.
That’s all it takes. Quicker than I can react, my ex steps forward, raising her hand like she’s about to slap Gail. Soren and I move at the same time, but it’s too late. Before either of us can do anything, Gail’s hand connects with Simone’s cheek. It’s one of those slaps that reverberates and ricochets off the walls despite the movement and noises around us.
“You bitch!” Simone screeches. “You fucking hit me. I’ll make you pay for that.”
Lucia moves closer, protectively standing next to Gail, shrugging Sawyer’s hand off her shoulder when he tries to hold her back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lucia hisses. Sawyer’s quick to position himself next to her. “That’s not what I saw.”
While Lucia talks, Soren moves next to Gail, taking her hand. “I didn’t see that either,” he grins.
I stay at Gail’s back, pulling her flush against me. Though there’s plenty I want to say, I keep it all in, and instead of paying Simone any attention, I nuzzle my face against the crook of Gail’s neck. “You’re so fucking sexy right now,” I rasp, only loud enough for her to hear.
If I thought my words would make her relax, I’m proven wrong when she snorts. I half expect her to curse me out, but she doesn’t. Instead, she remains locked in a staring contest with Simone. Luckily, my ex thinks better of it, and without another word, she slinks off.
As soon as she’s gone, Lucia turns to Gail. “You okay?” she asks.
Not caring one bit about Lucia’s need to be reassured, Soren turns Gail around so she’s facing the both of us. His green eyes dip to her exposed stomach. “Are you okay?” he rasps.
Gail’s eyes are soft as she looks between us. “Fet is fine.”
I chuckle. “That’s not what we asked, sweetheart.”
“Abigail Rosie Wilson, I need to know you’re okay!”
Gail rolls her eyes at Lucia’s dramatic use of her full name. “I’m fine. Now, are we going to celebrate or what?”
“Umm…” I trail off, not sure what the right answer is. I kinda just assumed Gail would want to go home, so that’s what I was prepared for.
“I want to go dancing,” Gail insists, making Lucia whoop with excitement.
Gail
The entrance to Magnitude looms before us, a gaping maw ready to swallow us whole into its pulsating belly. We bypass the line, and head inside, where the air is thick with the scent of sweat and perfume, a cocktail of desire and indulgence.
Strobe lights dance across the sea of bodies, making my head pound in time with the bass that reverberates through the floor. My senses are engulfed; the music is a living thing, wrapping around us, pulling us deeper into the heart of Magnitude.
“Over here!” Luce calls out, guiding us toward the shadowy recesses of the VIP section. It’s a darker world within a world, where the silhouettes of the Sabertooths players lounge like kings in their court. Puck bunnies circle like satellites, drawn in by the gravitational force of fame and testosterone.
“Look who’s here!” one of the players shouts over the music as we approach, his words slurred slightly by alcohol or excitement—it’s hard to tell which. Glasses clink, and a bottle finds its way into my hand.
“It’s only water,” Lucia nudges me with her elbow, her eyes sparkling with the reflections of laser lights. She’s home here among the revelry, a natural part of the ecosystem.
I take a tentative sip, yep, definitely just water. It’s a bit depressing to be the only one here who isn’t having any alcohol, but it is what it is.
