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“Hope you like fish and chip,” she says, pushing the plate over.
“Anything would do. I’m starving.” I take the lid off the plate. “Thank you for the food.”
“It’s no problem, we need something to soak up all of this.” She taps the bottle.
Okay, I am not drinking that whole thing.
I dig in, biting into the perfectly battered fish.God, fuck; that’s delicious.
Wicked Mal digs into her fries. “This is nice,” she says, chewing, but her eyes never leave the flickering stars above. “Being around men for nearly ten years becomes a bit sad. It’s nice to fight beside another badass bitch like me.” She looks over with a mischievous smile, flipping her ponytail back.
I swallow the meat, my body becoming light and fuzzy. It’s delicious. “How long have you known Ronan?”
She releases a breath. “Since I was fifteen.”
“Wow, it’s been a long time.”
She nods, pouring more liquor into her glass while biting her fish. Bedford was not wrong.
But I scoot mine over. Also reminding myself of a limit. I still have a mission to fulfill tomorrow.
I chew my food, and we toss back our drinks. She howls out an agonizing groan. Her face scrunches. “Fuck that’s deadly.” She chuckles before relaxing again. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about your brother.”
I look at the glass in my hands; pain rubs along my heart.
“I know it was so long ago, but no one really gets over someone they loved the most.”
I glance over at her, my mouth more numb than ever. “Thank you.”
She flicks a French fry on the plate like she is contemplating if she should say what’s on her mind. “My parents died right in front of me.” Her voice is low.
My eyes drop, sorrow rising in my gut. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been.”
She nods slowly, eyes searching the distant buildings. “Shot right in the head. After the men were paid their money. They still killed her.” Mal’s eyes slowly close, pain surfacing over them. It only makes me feel like shit. Time replays back in my head.That’s why she reacted the way she did, why Ronan gave me a look of death at that moment. I asked her if her parents taught her manners.
I had triggered her.
Someone murdered them in cold blood.
I find myself reaching over to touch her shoulder gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“How could you? We didn’t know each other.”
I nod softly. “You’re right, but I still shouldn’t have said that. It was wrong. I’m sorry.” And I mean it.
She wipes a tear that escaped. “It’s okay. I told Ronan I would chop your head off, then shoot you if you coughed the wrong way. So, I guess we’re even.” She looks at me with a serious face. And I stare back. Before we both burst out again with a loud laugh, my chest hurts from all the laughter. I slap my hand on my bare leg and her hand slams on the table.
Yes, I’m drunk. I laugh some more, letting out all my pinned up frustration.
“That’s brutal as fuck,” I say, pushing my bang to the side.
An invisible, weight lifting from me.
Once Wicked leaves,I’m left alone in my room. My body hits the plush covers like I’m laying directly on a bed of feathers. My skin tingles and my body rings.
This is the most freeing I’ve ever felt, and all it took was throwing back a couple of shots and eating dinner with WickedMal, of all people. She’s not so bad. Behind the malicious glare, there’s a little girl. Lost and somber. Just like me.
I stretch out my arms, arching my back. My clothes give off an itchy, irritable scratch, so I strip each garment off one by one until I’m only in my thongs. The balcony doors are parted, bringing in a gentle breeze and soft white noise. My thoughts divert to Ronan.