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21

Pace

I takea drag off the joint before blindly passing it to Bruin.

Family Dinner in West End, while not a contractual obligation, is still something Verity demands to attend. My first time at one of these things wasn’t so bad. Decent food, good booze, and an orgasm on the rooftop. What’s not to like?

But that was before I knew.

Bruin and I are outside in the alley. Despite the frankly great weed, he’s twitchy, constantly glancing toward the door. Something about his girl giving him shit if she catches him smoking so soon after his throat injury.

But my eyes are focused on the old car at the mouth of the alley.

Or, rather, the man tinkering around beneath the hood.

When Bruin hands me the joint back, I ask, “You know him?”

He follows my gaze, lifting his chin. “Pauly? Yeah, he’s the trainer.”

I pull a deep drag, watching as the man in question reaches inside his rusty toolbox, pulling out a wrench. “What’s his deal?”

Bruin shrugs. “No deal. He’s been here longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Is he,” I work my jaw back and forth, “good?”

“At training?” Nick’s eyebrow arches. “Sure. He’s probably responsible for most of the frat’s boxing acumen.”

Exhaling, I say, “No—I mean, is hegood? As a person.”

When I pass the joint back, Nick’s giving me this baffled look. “Spare me with the moral ‘good’ bullshit, Ashby. No one’sgood. On the scale of humanity, there’s super-shit, kinda-shit, and lesser-shit.” He points the joint at Pauly. “He’s less shit than most. That’s about the highest bar I’ve got.”

I hum. “Right.”

He twists to look at Pauly, the thick, raised scar on his neck stretching. “Are you worried about him with Ver or something? Because he’s always been good to her and Mama B. Like a dad.”

My eyes narrow. “A dad, huh?”

If I thought it’d make me feel better to know Pauly has been some upstanding guy to my Princess’ family, then I’m sorely mistaken. Mostly I just get this hot flare of indignation, like…how fucking dare hegive other people what should have been given to me and my mother.

Just then, the door behind us opens, and Nick mutters a sharp, “Shit, shit, shit,” tossing the joint to the side. Lavinia’s head pops out, blue-hair first, and she spots him instantly.

Her eyes harden. “Motherfucker, Iknowyou aren’t out here smoking weed when you were specifically told to lay off!”

Nick holds up his hands, cool as a cucumber. “Just shooting the shit, baby.”

Her glower lands on me. “You.Spill.”

“We were smoking a joint.”

Nick’s fist bangs into me. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Shrugging, I say, “Her and Verity are friends. I’m not sacrificing pussy to cover up for a Duke. You’d do the same.”

Still pissed, he replies, “Of course I’d do the same. Welcome to the super-shit club, Assby.”

I flip him the finger as he trudges inside, the sound of Lavinia Lucia’s growling admonishments disappearing behind the door. When it’s just me, I look back at Pauly and think,fuck it.

“Shit,” he says, almost banging his head when he realizes I’m lurking beside him. “Goddamn, son, wear a bell.”