Page 51 of Pucking Sweet

I stop, waiting for the joke. But no, the silence stretching between us could fill an ocean, even in this noisy club. Slowly, I turn. “Nov—”

“But it’s fine.” He shrugs past me. “I’ll change it if it’s that big a deal—”

“No.” I grab him by the shoulder. He’s tense under my hand, but he doesn’t pull away. “Keep me on the forms. I’ll be your emergency contact.” I let him go, and he doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t say another word. He just walks off, like we didn’t just share our first real moment of true friendship in ten years.

“What were you assholes whispering about over there?” J-Lo says as we walk up to the VIP table.

Giving Novy’s shoulder one more squeeze, I step around him and claim the empty spot by Sully. “Novy wants to donate his dick to science.”

This gets the guys going, leading to a hilarious and morbid conversation about the ins and outs of penis transplants. All the while, I keep glancing across the table at Novy. I watch the casual, aloof way he interacts with the other guys. All his careful little walls are securely back in place.

18

Alcohol hums through my body, loosening the tension in my muscles and making me feel all floaty. Club music thumps as colored lights flash pink, blue, and green. I lean over the bar, palms flat against the polished wood, and finish my story for Tina. I have to yell to be heard. “And then he told me he’ll be seeing me at the wedding, holding my sister’s bouquet, watching as all her—meaning my—dreams come true!”

Tina pauses in the pouring of a third glass of merlot. Her face is a mask of shock and horror. “Shut up. He did not.”

“He did,” I say, taking another sip of my third Jax Ray.

Tina sets the wine bottle down. “These people, man, I swear to fucking god. Well, you arenotgoing to that wedding, Pop. Period.”

I roll my eyes and finish my drink. Tina knows me, perhaps better than anyone. We grew up together. It’s a charming, All-American story of the personal chef’s troubled kid bonding with the lonely middle child of the millionaire political lobbyist. Christina and her mom lived in the apartment above our garage for eleven years.

Our lives were always destined for different paths, but we keep in touch as much as we’re able. I was so glad I was able to get the Rays in here tonight. As part-owner of this club, she gets the good publicity and the packed club, and I get some wholesome press coverage, showing off the fun side of the team.

I’m extra glad she’s here tonight after that lunch today. She knowsallmy family drama. She was even a witness to some of it—like the time my brother pushed Dick Cheney’s grandson into a pool, and we all thought Mom was going to get in a slap fight with Lynne.

Tina delivers the merlots down to the end of the bar and comes back.

“How can I not go?” I shout, clutching my now-empty glass. “Tina, she’s my sister.”

She grabs a quartet of shot glasses and lines them up, pulling out a bottle of tequila. “Yeah, she’s your spoiled little witch of a sister who slept with your ex fortwofucking years and didn’t tell you.”

I sit up a little straighter on my stool, anger coursing through me, making my body feel like it’s vibrating. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she echoes, filling the shot glasses.

“Heck yeah.”

“Fuckyeah!”

“I’m not going,” I declare.

“Good.” She slides the shots over to the guy on my left, who passes them around to his friends, leaving her a generous tip.

“I’m serious, Tina. I’m not going to that wedding. Vi will just have to find someone else to hold her stupid bouquet!”

“Damn fuckin’ straight.” She hurries off to fill a few more drinks, leaving me with my glass of ice and cherries. I pop a few bar peanuts in my mouth, enjoying the salty taste. When she returns, she picks up a rag and begins wiping down some glasses. “So, what was it like to see him again?”

“Tina!” The hipster-looking bartender waves her down. “I could use a little help over here!”

“Give me a minute,” she shouts back.

Meanwhile, I’m shaking my head, popping a few more peanuts in my mouth. “Tina, it was awful. I heard his voice, and I got literal chills.” I run my hands down my forearms, remembering the feeling. “He touched me, and it took everything in me not to flinch.”

“I can imagine,” she says, her pierced lips pursed.

“I can’t believe I ever actually considered marrying him.”