Page 34 of Victorious, Part 2 (The LA Defiance MC #6)
Cedar catches it instantly. “They’re with me,” he says smoothly, voice casual but firm. “It’s all on my tab tonight. Just let them enjoy themselves, yeah?”
The waitress hesitates, just for a second, but Cedar’s smile is effortless, the kind of smile that’s probably gotten him out of parking tickets, into VIP lounges, and straight through more than one private gate. She nods with a polite smile and disappears without a word.
Phoenix lets out a slow exhale. I glance at him, our knees brushing under the table. He smirks.
“That male magnetism, huh?” he mutters under his breath, knowing full well it was his years as a superstar that pulled that off.
“Perks of knowing people who can charm waitstaff into selective amnesia,” I whisper back.
He winks at me, and the conversation flows more easily than I expected once we order.
Meadow tells us about their travels. Apparently, they’ve been everywhere from the Northern Lights in Alaska to some meditation retreat in Costa Rica where she learned to ‘communicate with the energy of butterflies.’ Cedar listens to every word as though it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard, occasionally adding details or gently steering the conversation when she starts to drift too far into territory that might be confusing.
Phoenix, whom I was worried might be uncomfortable with the whole situation, actually seems to relax as the evening goes on.
He asks Cedar about their travels, shares some of our road trip highlights, and even smiles when Meadow insists on teaching us the proper way to appreciate the energy of our food before we eat.
“You have to thank the cow for its sacrifice,” she says solemnly, holding her hands over her plate. “And ask the vegetables to nourish your spirit as well as your body.”
“Meadow, baby, not everyone follows our gratitude practices,” Cedar says gently.
“But they should,” she insists. “Food tastes so much better when you eat it with intention and love.”
Phoenix, to his credit, actually places his hands over his plate and mutters something that sounds like “Thanks, cow.” I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how adorably awkward he looks.
“You’re humoring her,” I whisper to him.
“She’s not wrong,” he whispers back. “Food probably does taste better when you’re grateful for it.”
God, I love this man.
The thought hits me so suddenly and with such clarity that I almost choke on my wine.
Phoenix notices immediately, his hand moving to my back with that instinctive protectiveness that’s becoming second nature. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I manage, taking a sip of water. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous territory,” he teases, but his eyes are soft with concern.
As dinner winds down, I’m surprised by how much I don’t want the evening to end.
There’s something freeing about being with people who don’t know our story, who don’t look at us and see a club member and his fellow biker’s little sister.
Here, we’re just Phoenix and Clover, two people who clearly care about each other, sharing a meal with two travelers who’ve found their own way of making happiness out of tragedy.
“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” Cedar asks as we finish dessert, some ridiculous chocolate thing that Meadow insisted we all share because ‘ chocolate is better when it brings people together.’
“Probably just head back to our hotel,” Phoenix says. “It’s been a long day.”
“Nooo!” Meadow’s eyes go wide with disappointment. “But the night is just beginning. And you two have such beautiful energy together, you should be celebrating.”
Phoenix chokes on his coffee. “Celebrating what exactly?”
“Oh!” Meadow clasps her hands together. “You don’t feel it? You two have a karmic flow. Something big is coming for you soon. Real soon. We need to celebrate.”
“Meadow, honey, they might not want—”
“Please,” she turns those big, hopeful eyes on us. “Just for a little while? I can feel how much love is between you two, and love should be celebrated. Besides, Cedar and I have a whole penthouse suite at the Bellagio, and the view is absolutely magical at night.”
I look at Phoenix, seeing my own conflict reflected in his eyes. The smart thing would be to politely decline, go back to our hotel, maybe call it an early night, since we’re supposed to meet with Sin tomorrow and get back to the reality of club life and all the danger that comes with it.
But when’s the next time we’ll get to just be normal?
When’s the next time we can spend an evening with people who don’t know about Cartels and threats and all the reasons why what’s happening between us is complicated?
“Just for a little while,” I hear myself saying. “If Phoenix is okay with it.”
Phoenix studies my face, and I see the moment he makes his decision. “One drink,” he says. “Then we really do need to get some rest.”
Meadow squeals with delight, bouncing in her seat like a kid on Christmas morning. “This is going to be so much fun. Cedar, can we show them the balcony? And maybe play some music?”
Cedar’s expression softens as he watches her excitement. “Whatever makes you happy, darlin’.”
We finish up at the restaurant and make our way to the Bellagio.
It feels as if the elevator ride up to the penthouse suite takes forever, but as the doors open, it is exactly as ridiculous as I expected.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking The Strip, furniture that probably costs more than the entire Clubhouse back in LA, and a balcony that offers a view so stunning it almost doesn’t seem real.
“Holy shit,” Phoenix breathes, moving to the windows. “This is incredible.”
“Language, sweetie,” Meadow chides gently, but she’s smiling. “But yes, it really is magical, isn’t it? It’s like… like the future is right here. Like I’ve been transported through time. It really is so remarkable,” Meadow states, glancing out in undisputable awe.
The way her eyes light up makes me so grateful for the life I have.
Sure, my club might be at war.
Sure, I might not have a home to go back to.
But at least I can remember everyone I love.
At least I remember my home and everyone in it.
Seeing Meadow taking in the sights of Vegas like it’s literally from another time is almost heartbreaking.
Cedar moves to what I’m now noticing is a very well-stocked bar cart. “Drinks? I’ve got pretty much everything. I know I need another one.”
“What’s your poison?” Phoenix asks me.
But the truth is, I don’t really know. It’s not that I haven’t had alcohol. I live with bikers. It’s just that I haven’t had enough to know what I really like yet.
“Surprise me,” I opt for, settling onto the enormous couch that faces the windows. “But make it strong. This night calls for celebration.”
“Two of whatever you’re having,” Phoenix tells Cedar. “And make them doubles.”
What Cedar makes us turns out to be some kind of whiskey cocktail that goes down smooth, but packs a serious punch. By the time we’re halfway through our second round, I feel the alcohol settling warm in my chest, making everything seem brighter and more possible.
“These are dangerous,” I tell Cedar, holding up my glass, my head swirling already, considering we had wine with dinner too.
“The best drinks always are,” he replies with a grin, clearly feeling the effects himself.
Meadow is already giggling at everything, her cheeks flushed pink as she disappears into another room, then comes back with what appears to be a vintage speaker shaped like a jukebox.
“Music! We need music for a proper celebration.”
“What are we celebrating again?” Phoenix asks, accepting a glass from Cedar.
“Love!” Meadow declares, as if it’s obvious. “And friendship. And the beautiful synchronicity that brought us all together again.”
She starts scrolling through what must be the most eclectic playlist in existence.
I catch glimpses of everything from The Beatles to Dolly Parton to some meditation music with whale sounds.
Finally, she settles on something upbeat but not overwhelming, and the whole room seems to relax into the rhythm.
“Oh, wait, I love this song,” Meadow suddenly exclaims as an Elvis tune starts playing. “A Little Less Conversation” fills the room with that classic soul and funk beat that’s impossible not to move to.
“So,” Cedar says, settling into an armchair across from us. “How long have you two been together?”
Phoenix and I exchange a look. It’s such a simple question, but the answer is anything but.
“It’s complicated,” I say finally.
“The best love stories usually are,” Cedar replies, and there’s something in his voice that makes me think he knows a thing or two about complicated love stories.
“Complicated is just another word for interesting,” Meadow adds, curling up next to Cedar’s chair. “Tell us everything! How did you meet? When did you know?”
“Meadow,” Cedar warns gently.
“What? Love stories are the most beautiful kind of stories. And these two have such intense energy. I can practically see the connection sparking between them.”
She’s not wrong.
Even sitting here in this ridiculous penthouse with people we barely know, I’m hyperaware of Phoenix beside me.
The way his thigh presses against mine when he leans forward to set down his drink.
The way his hand finds mine automatically when Meadow asks about our ‘love story.’ The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
“We’ve known each other for a while,” Phoenix says carefully. “But we just recently figured out what was happening between us.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Meadow claps her hands together. “The best relationships are the ones that grow from friendship, don’t you think, Cedar?”
“Absolutely,” Cedar agrees, but there’s something sad in his eyes as he says it. I wonder if he’s thinking about Luke and Selene, about the relationship that was cut short by tragedy.
“You know what we should do?” Meadow jumps up suddenly, swaying slightly as the alcohol hits her. Her eyes are bright with mischief and maybe three strong cocktails. “Truth or dare!”
Phoenix immediately shakes his head, though the gesture is a bit looser than usual. “Oh, no. Absolutely not!”