Both of the guys whoop and holler. “Oohrah!”
I sink into my camp chair while Sadie does her best to fuck the guys while they’re all still fully dressed. She looks over to me after a couple of minutes and frowns.
She sashays my way, wiggling her ass. “C’mon, Cuz. Let’s dance. You need to cheer up. This sad shit sucks.”
Russell pours another round of drinks.
Three more shots.
My brain’s a bit numb, and I’m not sure I can feel my toes. But the area of my chest that was hollowed and achy is full of tequila, and I’m feeling no pain. Actually, I’m doing pretty fucking good.
Sadie and I bump and grind against each other while the guys tuck dollar bills in the waistbands of our shorts. What the hell is it about guys liking girl on girl action, even when it doesn’t involve anyone getting naked? They’re probably hoping it will lead to someone getting naked.
Sadie laughs. “You guys should stay a couple more days. I’ll be working tomorrow night.”
Buck steps into the flickering circle of light, his stupid face all frowny. “You guys having fun? Sure sounds like it from next door.”
Sadie puts her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she sputters a laugh.
She whispers, without actually lowering her voice. “Oops. We woke the neighbors!”
I hold up another shot, and the ground shifts beneath my feet. “Turn it up loud and fuck off the neighbors.”
Buck’s arms come around me as he stumbles past me. Wait. Maybe I’m the one who’s stumbly. Bumbly. Tumbly.
I try to slap away his hands. “Don’t touch me, Asshole.”
His arms tighten at my waist. “I think the party’s about over, Lou. You’ve had enough.”
Stephens stands and runs his hand over his high and tight hair cut. “Dude. This is a private party. We’ll take care of Fontaine. Don’t worry.”
“I just bet you will.” Buck’s voice is steely and hard. “I’ll take her up to bed. You guys have a good night. Sadie’ll make sure you get what you need to bed down.”
I elbow Buck. “Leave me ‘lone, Buck. These are my pleoples. You go back to your persons. You have your popells call my peoples tomorrow. Tonight we’re having drinks. And dollars.”
I pull a few ones out of my pockets and waistband and hold them up in his fucking face. “See? You jus’ thought you could kleep me from dampcing. I’ll do whatever I wanna. I don’t need you noooo more, Buckner Wylder.”
Buck snatches the ones from my fingers and tosses them to the ground. I dive for them, because somehow they’re important right now, though I can’t remember why.
His arms come around my waist, pulling me to my feet. “C’mon, Lou. Let’s get you to bed before you hurl. You never could hold your liquor.”
I splutter. “I hold my lick—lock—drinks jus’ fine. Fuck you for caring.”
“I do care, Lou. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Why does he have to smell so good? Why can’t he be a different guy? Why can’t I be Hollywood skinny and be gonna have his baby?
I let out a big sigh. My eyes sting.
Russell stands, putting his hand on Buck’s arm.
“Uh oh.” I cringe.
Buck’s fist flies. And then, it’s all knuckles and pops and groans.
Two Marines and Mr. Hollywood.
This can’t end well.
* * *
Buck tucks the sheet around me.
I sniffle. “Go ‘way. You don’t care ‘bout me. You never cared. You only wanna boss me.”
He leans in and kisses my numb forehead. “I love you, Lou. We’ll talk tomorrow when you sober up.”
I put my finger on his split lip. “Who won?”
He winces and pulls my hand from his mouth. “I guess it was a draw.”
“Buck. You gots ta do what’s right by your babley.”
He rubs the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “It’s not my—”
“Glad I did never told him about our blaby.” Buck not coming back was bad enough. Being an asshole about our baby would’ve been even worse.
Buck sits at the edge of the bed. “Told who about what baby?”
Sleep beckons. My eyes drift shut.
His voice gets closer to my ear. “Told who? What baby, Lou?”
I let out the breath it seems I’ve been holding for five years.
“Wake up. Lou?”
TWENTY-TWO
Lou rolls over. Her face pinches as though she smells something bad. I push the hair out of her face, my chest tightening for the fiftieth time in the last seven hours I’ve watched her sleep.
Surely she’s not pregnant. Is she pregnant?
No. She wouldn’t get drunk like that if she were pregnant. Would she? No. No. Of course not.