On His Face: A Brother's Best Friend Romantic Comedy
Page 31
“And why are you divorced again?” I joke.
She sticks out her tongue.
“Beatrix Argento?”
We glance up at a suited man suddenly standing above our table.
“Yes, sir?” Trix answers with a smile and looks him up and down.
He reaches into his jacket and withdraws an envelope. “You’ve been served,” he says, holding it out.
Trix snatches the papers from him. “And a fuck you to you, too, asshole,” she spits as he turns around and takes wide strides back to the exit.
I rub Trix’s shoulder. “Well, that sucks.”
She shoves the envelope into her purse without opening it. “It’s all right. It was expected for my dad’s trial. Ma told me earlier.”
Melanie frowns. “Want to come to Judy’s with us tomorrow?” she asks. “Perk you right up.”
“Nah, I need to meet with our lawyers to walk me through my deposition,” she says. “Rain-check me, please.”
“How’s Papa ‘Gento doing?”
“An aging, old mobster in the slammer?” she quips. “He practically owns the place. Doesn’t mean he’s eager to hang up curtains or anything, though. Of course, all of this is secondhand knowledge since they won’t let me see him myself.”
“That’s for the best, Trix,” I say.
“I know, I know. The more distance I keep, the less they’ll shine lights on me. But... still. I miss my dad, you know?”
“But hey…” I tap her inked shoulder. “By the time he gets out, this should be done, right?”
She glances at her arm and nods. “Yep. Just a few more trips to the tat shop and my marque is complete. Then, I can secure my rightful place in Papa’s inner circle.”
“Look at you.” Melanie sighs, smiling. “All growed up and joining the mob.”
“Daddy’s little goombah,” Trix says, fluttering her lashes. “Of course, none of that will happen until I get him out of jail because the old fogies currently squatting in charge don’t like the females making decisions, but fuck ‘em. I’m Trix Argento. That’s my family’s crest up there.”
“Rawr.” Melanie hisses and claws the air. “I love feisty Trix.”
“Me, too,” I say, raising my glass. “To Trix.”
Trix grins. “And to Nora and Mel. May we always give ‘em hell.”
We all clink our glasses.
“So, Nor…” Melanie says, tapping the table between us. “You? Me? Judy’s, tomorrow? Yes? Yes? Harder, baby? Harder?”
I let out a groan, though I am oddly curious. “Okay, fine. Meet me in my office at noon sharp. We’ll go then.”
She claps twice. “Yes! Trust me. You will find what you need to cure what ails you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say dismissively, hiding behind my glass.
“Okay...” Trix says, grabbing a menu. “I should probably eat something to soak up all this champagne.”
I nod, feeling light-headed. “That’s a smart idea.”
The three of us go silent as we scan the menus.
I glance at Melanie and my lips twitch. “Are you really ovulating?” I ask.
She slams her fist on the table, shaking the glasses. “How does he do that?!”
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PRETTY LITTLE THING!
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About the Author
Tabatha Kiss lives in Chicago, Illinois. You can probably catch her huddled up in a hoodie, reading a good romance beneath a tree in Jackson Park with her trusty husky by her side. She enjoys roller derby, sushi, and is always searching for her forever bad boy.
In the meantime, she writes.
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