Page 72 of Violent Little Thing

He watched me squirm in my seat for the umpteenth time that morning, and his lips quirked.

He hadn’t stopped talking about tight ends, though.

“What do you think?”

I looked at one of the offensive coaches—I couldn’t remember his name—and said, “About what?”

His lips quirked. “Football not your thing?”

“Not really,” I said. “I’ll just let the people that know what they’re saying control the topics at hand. All I can add is that the fritters are a bit stale.”

“I was thinking the same,” Noe said. “Speaking of fritters, pass me a cinnamon roll?”

I did, passing down two and then going back to braiding sections of my hair.

“Anyone seen Seraphina lately?” I heard someone ask.

“No,” Court grumbled. “Not that I have a problem with that.”

Amen.

She could disappear off the face of the earth and it would still be too close to me. Maybe if she went to visit Saturn and planned to stay a while…

“She needs to sign these.” Noe tapped his finger. “We have majority, but it’s still…”

I started to braid more of my hair in a different section, tuning out anything related to Seraphina.

I was Zen as fuck today thanks to the sex I’d had last night.

I didn’t want anything ruining my mojo.

I also didn’t want to think about why it was that I hadn’t seen Seraphina. Then I’d have to worry about her choking on her own vomit while on a bender.

Which would only continue to make me mad, because I shouldn’t care about her at all.

Nothing she said or did, or disappeared to, should affect me in any way.

“Knock, knock.”

I looked up to find security standing at the door.

“What’s up, Knolls?” Court asked.

“Seraphina is passed out in her car in the parking garage,” he said. “She’s vomited twice and now she’s starting to garner attention. What do you want me to do?”

Court pinched the bridge of his nose. “Call her dad.”

“I did, he said that he was done, and that someone else would have to deal with her.”

Court picked up his phone and dialed a number.

He waited for it to ring and be answered before he said, “Black. I have an issue. Can you come get a drunk woman out of my parking garage?”

Black, the sheriff, groaned. “Is it Seraphina?”

Court pinched the bridge of his nose harder. “One and only.”

Black grumbled, “I’ll be there,” then hung up before Court could say goodbye.