Page 36 of Aced (Driven 4)
And God does it feels good to forget.
I’m lost in thought, trying to figure out how many shots we’ve downed, when my phone rings. I fumble with my cell before answering.
“If it’s good enough to make me sober, Kelly, I just might forgive you for ruining my buzz,” I say into the phone with a laugh.
“You drunk?”
“Well on my way.”
“Understandably,” he says in his no nonsense tone. “Eddie checks in with his parole officer once a month.”
“Mm,” I say as visions fill my head of waiting for him outside the social services office and greeting him with a fist to the face.
“Don’t even think about it, Donavan. You got the restraining order for Rylee. Leave it at that. Just like I’ve told you all week long, you touch him, he’s going to sue you like he owns the Fluff and Fold and take you to the cleaners. It’s not worth it.”
Quit fucking telling me what to do.
“Let him try,” I sneer, admitting to myself he’s right but also knowing revenge gives its own special satisfaction. I begin to say something else when the thought hits me that I might be able to get him back and not lift a fucking finger. The problem is I want to lift more than a finger at him. I want a whole knockout fist.
“Thanks, Kelly. Keep me up to speed.” Thoughts try to connect through my fuzzy mind on how I can make this all work to my advantage. Fuck Eddie over. Redeem Rylee. Get back the happily ever after.
My plan could work.
“Everything okay?” Becks asks, as he looks up from his own phone.
Later, Donavan. Figure it out later. Right now? Drink.
“Fucking peachy,” I say, copying one of his go-to sayings. “Kelly’s got a line on Eddie.”
“And that pisses you off, why?”
“Just thinking.”
“That’s scary,” he teases and I slide my glass across the table so it clinks against his in response. “What is it?”
“Bad juju, man,” I finally say, trying to put into words what I think’s been bugging me the past few days. The drinking to forget didn’t numb t
his. “I’ve got this feeling that won’t go away.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Things have been too goddamn perfect for us. I have the fucking fairy tale, Becks. The princess, the castle, the—”
“Jackass,” Becks snorts as he points my way, causing me to laugh. Asshole. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist,” he says, putting his hands up in a mock surrender. “Please, continue.”
“Nah. Never mind.” Shut it down, Donavan. You sound like an idiot. A drunk one at that.
“No. Seriously. Go on.”
I concentrate on drawing lines in the ridges of the worn tabletop. “Shit in our life was just too good. Too perfect. And now with the tape and Ry’s job and . . .” My voice fades as I try to explain the feeling I don’t understand, but that all of a sudden feels like it’s clinging to me like a second skin. “I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop to make this fairy-tale life of ours come crashing down. It’s a shitty feeling.”
“Feelings are like waves, brother. You can’t stop them from coming but you sure as fuck can decide which ones to let pass you by and which ones to surf.”
“Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t wipe the fuck out by picking the wrong one.”
Becks and I decide we’re looped enough to brave the chaos.
We push open the back door of Sully’s and are met with blinding flashes of light and a roar of sound. I wince. The alcohol makes the clicking shutters and shouts of my name sound like they’re coming through a megaphone. They stagger me. Blind me.
