I shake my head, hating the double standard. My brothers have been going to strip clubs for years. Hell, I’m sure my dad frequents them himself. But what? I’m supposed to sit at home, waiting for them to return?
“I know Ace Royalle is bad news for the family—he’s clean money and we’re ... not. Going to his new club was a bad idea. I’m sorry. And I will marry Grotto, with a smile on my face, if that’s what the family needs. But please, don’t get on my case right now for wanting to put on a dress and go dancing with my best friend and my sister.”
My father nods solemnly, listening to me. He may be a hardass, but he isn’t a monster.
“I wish Mom were here. She’d see that this is hard enough already, that I’m giving you everything, Dad. Can I just have this one thing? A few weeks of freedom?”
He clears his throat, looks right at me. His decision is made. “No more dancing. No more men. But I won’t be putting you on house arrest. I know this marriage is a sacrifice.”
I wipe away the tears on my face. “Is this marriage alliance necessary?”
“I wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t, a leanbh. The Grottos and the O’Malleys are going to be in business together. If this alliance is made between you and Frank, it will ensure stability for the family for generations to come.”
His use of the old Irish words meaning my child catches me off guard. He hasn’t spoken words of endearment like that to me since before Mom died.
“I wish your mother were still alive, too. She always knew what was best with you girls,” Dad says. “But sending your brothers to find you tonight was not an overreaction. Mary gets ideas in her head. And Connor is angry with her. She can make trouble when she gets this way. You can’t follow in her footsteps, Josephine.”
“I won’t, Dad. I promise.” I stand from the table, knowing the conversation is over. I kiss his cheek, knowing my promise seals my fate with Grotto…and McQueen.
Chapter Fifteen
McQUEEN
I don’t get it. I just don’t fucking get it. She left with those fuckers. She left me. Nobody walks away from me.
Trying to not lose my cool in front of a packed club, my best friends, and their women, I turn in circles. Ace & Emmy. Landon & Claire. Jack & Ashley. And then lonely ol’ Tess. Everyone is here, staring at me after the opening night festivities departed.
“I gotta get some air,” I tell them.
“You sure you wanna go?” Ace asks. “Stay and have a few rounds.”
“We’ll have a car take you home,” Landon offers. In the distance we see the O’Malley clan leave through the front doors, led out by security.
I look at my friends and their women; everyone is dressed to kill in suits and designer everything, and I look like I just left the fucking gym in my sweats and hoodie. Hell, maybe that’s where I should be. Let off some fucking steam.
“I’m gonna lose my shit,” I tell them, running my hands through my hair.
“What you need is a drink. Come. Sit down,” Emmy says, her arms threading around Ace’s back. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere, it looks like you’re going to punch something. Or someone.”
Knowing she’s right, I follow my crew to a table in a roped-off area. Once we’re seated, and once Ashley Fast has agreed to pose for about a dozen photos with adoring fans, we get a couple bottles of tequila delivered to the table and start in with the shots.
“I know her. Your girl, JoJo,” Landon’s wife Claire says, her face puckered after throwing back some fine Patrón. “She’s always at Sophia’s school picking up her nephew Hardy, but I had no idea she was connected.”
“Her dad’s the boss,” I tell them. “I’ve been fucking the boss’s daughter and I didn’t know.”
“Would it have changed anything?” Emmy asks. “I mean, you care about her, right?”
Jack snorts. “Care about her? Have you ever heard McQueen care about a woman?”
Ashley throws him a cocked eyebrow. “People change, Jack. There’s always a first.”
I’ve never heard Ashley speak two complete sentences back-to-back, so it takes me a second to absorb her words. I do care about JoJo. That isn’t the issue. The truth is I rank a distant second to her real-life Godfather family.
Fuck. I take another shot.
“McQueen doesn’t care about this girl. Let’s just take a second to clear that up, okay honey?” Jack responds to Ashley.
“And how do you know that?” she presses back.
Oh good. The evening wouldn’t be complete without listening to these two bicker.
“I know because he sent a fucking dick-pic to her house with a dozen roses.”
“Oh, shit, really?” Ace asks, immediately cracking up. Jack was the only one there when JoJo’s brother mentioned it.
“What are you, in junior high?” Landon asks. “Seriously, and how does one even make a hard copy of a photograph anymore? I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
“Hard copy. Get it?” Jack slaps his knee, thinking this is all hilarious. And, under normal circumstances, it would be. But this isn’t normal. Knowing Josephine’s family tree, I’m getting a better clue as to why.
“Listen, it wasn’t my cock. I don’t whose it was.”
“Wait. What?” Tess asks. “She has another guy?”
“No. It’s the stalker from last week. I mean, that’s our guess. It sure as fuck wasn’t me.”
“And you’re sure she isn’t playing you?” Emmy asks as she leans into Ace’s chest. The table is filled with couples wrapped around one other.
“I’m willing to swallow my pride. But I really don’t think she has anyone else.”
“Who’s after her? And why?” Ace asks, leaning in.
“Good fucking questions. All I know is she ended things with me, and went back home with them.”
“Is she worth fighting for?” Claire asks. Her eyes meet Landon’s and, fuck, I feel like I’m invading their personal moment. But the thing is, I know Claire fucking fought for Landon. And that fight was worth it. It gave them a chance at love.
Is that what I’m after? Is that what I’m looking for? Is that what JoJo could be for me?
I feel like she and I got shortchanged on finding out.
“I don’t know what to do,” I tell them, refilling the shot glasses. “She made her choice.”
Tess reaches across the table for the tequila, shrugging. “She made her choice ... but you still can make yours.” I watch as her eyes land on Jack’s, before she downs the shot.
But Tess doesn’t understand JoJo. When that girl walked away from me, there was no doubt in her mind. I’m not gonna fucking beg her to come back.
Even if it’s the one thing I’m dying to do.
JoJo
A week later, I’m mixing a bottle of formula for Justice when my phone rings. I look at the caller. Kit.
I’m tempted to answer it.
I screw the top of the bottle back on, ready to feed Justice, only to find her asleep in her swing. The phone rings again. Kit.
“You gonna answer that?” Lucy asks. She’s sitting at a barstool, watching me clean the kitchen. “That’s the fourth time in a row he’s called. Maybe someone died.”
I tap my fingers on the granite counter top. “I just don’t want to be teased with something I can’t have.”
“What are you referring to? McQueen or the fighting?”
“Shhh,” I tell her, pressing my finger to my mouth.
“What? Justice is out cold.”
“No. Someone could hear.”
“Jo, your sister is out shopping. Again. We’re alone in her house. You can say whatever you like.”
I shake my head, knowing that isn’t the case. Not at all. My family may have given me a hall pass from house arrest, but they still have eyes and ears everywhere. I’d say my life completely blows, but at least my stalker hasn’t made another move.
“Oh my God, you are the worst best friend, you know that, right?” she asks, walking to the fridge and grabbing a can of Coke.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there is clearly some shady stuff going on with you, and you won’t let me in. At all. I’ve been coming here, helping you with the kids—”
“Which I never asked you to do,” I point out.
She gives an exaggerated sigh. “But I wanted to. Because I’m your BFF. But this relationship is getting pretty one-sided. You don’t even ask about my life.”
I blow air out of my cheeks, feeling like shit, using a sponge to wipe down the counters. “You’re totally right, sorry. Tell me everything.”
She laughs. “Well. Actually there’s nothing to tell. Grad school sucks. I haven’t had sex in a month. My jeans are too tight because I’ve been eating Hardy and Bailey’s leftover mac ’n’ cheese and chicken nuggets all week.”
“Thank you for the status update.” I set down the sponge and open the dishwasher to unload it. “And sorry for being so lame. I’ve been really self-absorbed.”
“Well, good, I’m glad you have some self-awareness. But what are you so wrapped up with? Why did your brothers go all crazy on you at the club?”