FOLLOW(37)

She narrows her eyes at me but I simply smile. So she takes her gaze to the menu and scans her options. “The strawberry spinach salad, please. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

She tries to rise and leave again, but I’ve got a hold of her hand this time. “What kind of wine?” I squeeze her leg again and then pat it. She looks at anything but me.

“Grace.” My sister interrupts my thoughts, and Grace’s next attempt at escape, and I realize she might be watching us closely. They all might be watching us closely. “What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m an event planner in Denver.” She smiles weakly before continuing. “I got a glimpse of your wedding reception, it was lovely. Just lovely.”

And now it’s Sam’s turn to be off her game, because she glances over at her new husband and smiles the same fake smile I just saw on Grace.

“This is boring,” Conner complains on the other side of Grace. “Liven things up for me, will you, Vaughn?”

I narrow my eyes at him. Asshole. He’s such a prick. He knows, he has to know. “So how’s the new venture, Conner?” I throw that out to be a dick back, because we all know Conner is no actor. His indie films were offered because of his family name, not his talent.

My father grunts from the head of the table but does not lower his menu.

“Actually, Vaughn,” Conner says with a smile that lets me know we are in fact, sparring, “I’ve started painting.”

I almost guffaw at that. Nice touch, brother. Nice touch.

“Painting?” This gets my father to lower his menu. My mother as well, only she looks pleased. Conner does no wrong in her eyes. But my father, he’s the only one who matters and now all the attention is focused on the middle child. The screwup. The wandering one. The… artist.

I almost laugh because I know what Conner really does for a living. But I’ve got an appointment with Grace’s pussy. I reach into my pocket, pretending to pay attention to the argument over Conner’s fictitious artistic pursuits, and press down on the mechanism that makes the little bullet pulse in a repeating pattern of long, drawn-out vibrations.

Grace stiffens in her chair, but does not look at me.

I like that reaction, the abrupt stiffening. But I’m going to make her pay for it. I depress the dial on the bullet three times and Grace immediately turns to me with wide eyes.

“Is that what you did with the money you borrowed a few months ago, Conner?” I ask, adding fuel to the fire. “Buy painting supplies and studio space?”

He shoots me a death glare and I chuckle. He’s so fucking easy.

My father erupts in protest. He’s looking at me and I shrug and play dumb as he rattles on and on about how my brother will never grow up if we keep handing him money.

I flash him my serious, concerned look and promise not to do it again.

Conner vehemently objects and the fight continues.

I quicken the frequency of the bullet vibrations for Grace and she actually moans.

“Is everything all right, dear?” my mother asks.

I chuckle but then a foot strikes out and kicks me in the shin under the table. I look up at my sister, who is sitting across from me. “Hi, Samantha.”

She points her finger at me like I’m the baby in this room. “Stop it.”

Grace looks over at me, her face bright red, probably thinking Sam is on to us. But that’s not why she’s scolding me. I’m fucking with Conner and Dad and she doesn’t like it. I reach over and take Grace’s hand out of her lap and raise it to my lips to give her a kiss.

Grace moves her chair back and says, “Excuse me, please, I need to use the restroom.” The men all stand as she does, and then she scoots out and walks away. We sit and the fight resumes.

But I watch Grace’s ass the entire time. She’s taking tiny little steps, which means she’s still got the bullet between her legs. I dial it up just before she turns the corner of the hallway that leads to the restrooms, and she does a little jump.

I snicker at that.

“Vaughn?” my father asks. I snap my attention from Grace and take it to my father. “Where did you meet this… Grace? What’s her last name?”

“Kinsella, Dad. And I met her in the bar.”

“So she’s a weekend fling?”

I nod. “Yeah, it’s over tomorrow. No worries, Pop. She’s not joining the family.”

“Then why bring her to dinner?” Conner snarls at me. “So you can play your sex games in front of us and think we won’t notice?”

“Jesus, Conner,” Sam says, clearly disgusted.

My mother still has her menu up to cover her face, so she says nothing, and my father shakes his head. “These games will come back to bite you, Vaughn. No matter how careful you are, no matter how many papers you make them sign, they will come back and bite you in the ass one day.”