by Emilia Finn
“Maybe you could hire a skywriter,” I toss in as a joke.
“Maybe you could tattoo her name on your forehead,” Iowa adds. “Or on your ass. Then drop your pants and let her read.”
Mac stops in the hall, and smacks his palm to Iowa’s forehead. “You’re stupid, and I don’t wanna discuss it with you.”
I flash a smug grin at Iowa, but then Mac snaps, “I don’t want your help either. You’re both stupid. Let me do it my way.”
“You don’t have a plan.” I continue walking when he does. “He has no plan.”
“No plan,” Iowa agrees. “He’s gonna mess it up.”
“You mean how you asked Brooke to marry you…” Mac swings back, and eyes Iowa. “But you had no ring?”
“I had a ring!” he argues. “It was at home.”
“Shitty proposal,” I cough. “Girls want diamonds. That was your first strike.”
Iowa rolls his eyes as we make our way into the gym kitchen. “I’m not on trial basis anymore.” He bumps Ben’s shoulder at the fridge as he reaches in and takes a cold Gatorade from the door. “I control your access to Lyss. Therefore, I’m grandfathered in for life. Suck my left nut, Bry.”
“Classy.” Evie walks into the kitchen in a sports bra and booty shorts. Her hair is sweaty, her shoulders pumped with blood from working out. “No one is gonna suck your anything,” she continues.
He looks to me.
“Don’t do it. Don’t you fucking do it.”
Then he grins.
“I’ll kill you, motherfucker. I’ll kill you dead, and keep Lyss as my own.”
He laughs. “Again, with the lifetime access. You won’t kill me, because if you do, Lyss will get mad. You’re literally incapable of making my daughter sad. Sit down, Uncle. Because the big dog is here now.”
“Hey, Iowa…” Ben accepts Evie – sweat and all – when she slides into his embrace. He waits for us to look, then he smirks. “Remember that time you made out with Bry’s mom?”
“I’ll kill you all!” I run at Ben and slam him to the ground as Evie squeals and jumps out of the way. “Don’t talk about my mom!”
“It’s only words,” Ben laughs and bats my hands away. “I’m not the one who stuck his tongue down her throat!”
“Hey, beautiful.” The moment Maddi steps out of her car outside of Franky’s diner on Main Street, I move off the sidewalk and meet her at the car door.
She looks as good as she always does. She wears a floaty skirt today, despite the chilly November cold, and a slouchy sweater that is several sizes too big, but looks amazing on her trim frame, as it leaves one shoulder exposed. Her hair is tied up in a high pony, but it cascades down over that bare shoulder, and draws a man’s eyes to her visible collarbone.
Madilyn Tosky is expensive goods. She’s like the parties and products she excels at selling. She’s the squares of salmon that I would happily, greedily pay five thousand a plate for just to get another taste.
Wrapping my arm around her stomach and hooking my hand on her opposite hip, I yank her to my chest until her breath puffs out and bathes my lips, then I capture them, slide my tongue over her bottom lip, and swallow her smiling gasp as she folds backward and absorbs my attack.
She wears sneakers – albeit with little glitters on the lace eyelets – which means she’s short. She forces me to bend to reach her, but she’s exactly the size and shape I want her: small enough to toss around, strong enough that she doesn’t cry when I smack her ass.
Coming up for air, I smile and study her dazed eyes as she kind of hangs out in my arms and tries to collect her senses. “Madilyn?”
“Mm?” She licks her lips and sighs.
“Maddi?” I tickle her hip with my fingers. “You in there?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Wake up.” I pinch her ribs, and chuckle when her eyes snap clearer.
“Ouch! Why’d you do that?” She twists, and pulls her sweater up to see where I hurt her. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”
“Will not.” I pull her in once more and use the magical powers I had no clue existed to help her forget.
My cousins – Bean and Smalls – and their guys – Ben and Mac – sit inside in a booth, preparing to stuff their faces with food that Mac’s mom, who essentially runs the diner, will serve us.
We ask for a slice of lasagna, she brings us a dozen. We ask for a small milkshake, she brings jumbos. We tell her we’re too full for dessert, she brings us pie.
It’s a system we long ago accepted.
“Hey, Bry?”
As soon as I pull back and slide my arm around Maddi’s shoulders, her words spill out. Like she was nervous. Like she’s been holding it in.
She wraps her arm around my back, and slides her hand into my back pocket. But despite her easy actions, her words are still shaky. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” I bring her away from her fancy sedan and step up onto the sidewalk. “And no, Jackson cannot be the best man at our wedding.”
I was joking. I was aiming for a laugh, but when I look down, my stomach drops into my ass when she turns sheet-white.
“What’s wrong?” I stop us before the diner door, and pull her face up to mine with two fingers beneath her chin. “Maddi? What’s wrong?”
“Are we…” She frowns. “You say…” Again, she cuts herself off.
“Madilyn?” My heart races painfully fast. “Spit it out, baby. You’re scaring me.”
“Why?” Desperate eyes flicker between mine. “Why are you scared?”
“Because I care about you. Up in here.” I take her hand and press it to my chest.
“Are we a couple?” Despite what I know in my head, her question still sounds genuine. “Are we an actual couple?”
“Um… yes?” My breath comes out on an anxious laugh. “Isn’t that why we’re here? What, you don’t want to be with me?”
“No, I do. It’s just…” She swallows. “It was never said, ya know? There was just… I hated you, and you hated me. Then maybe we didn’t hate each other anymore. Then we kissed, and that turned into sex pretty quick.”
I grin. “Best sex of my life.”
“I mean…” She frowns. “Same. But no one ever said anything. We just started hanging out, I slept in your bed a lot, you have this thing you do with your tongue, and dammit, Bryan. Can we be a couple?”
She’s looking for labels. She’s looking for commitment, which blows my mind, since I’m already planning our wedding. Well… sort of.
“I want to be with you, Maddi. I have been with you. I thought status was implied, but I’ll happily say the words out loud.”
I lean in and press a teasing kiss to the corner of her lips. A second. And then a third, until she sighs deep down into my lungs.
“Will you be my girlfriend, Madilyn Turdsky?”
She wraps her arms around my neck and stands on her toes. “Will you stop calling me Turdsky?”
“Not for the rest of my life.” Laughing, I dive in and catch her snicker.
“Will you stop making marriage jokes? You’re freaking me out.”
“You don’t wanna get married?”
“Like, right now?” She barks out a laugh. “No! Someday, sure, when the right man comes along. When we’ve been together an appropriate length of time. When he asks without being conceited or boastful.”
“Askin’ for a friend… how long is the right amount of time?”
“You’re insane,” she huffs. “And your teasing is a little annoying.”
“I’m not teasing! Shit, Maddi, I’m not asking anyone to marry me today. We literally only started dating two minutes ago.”
“You’re a jerk.”
She tries to step out from between me and the wall, but I yank her back and absorb her breath as it scorches down my throat.
“I’m not crazy,” I murmur. “I’m just… thinking ahead, and when I think ahead, I see you in my mind. So, ya know… whatever. I like to plan. Sue me.”
&
nbsp; “Maybe, like…” She considers. “If I can date you for a whole year and not kill you, then maybe we can discuss other arrangements.”
“Can we backdate to the tracks?”
“No!” She slips out from my grasp and moves toward the diner door.
“Wait.” Laughing, I race after her and snatch her hand. “That’s all you wanted? That’s what had you frowning?”
She shrugs as we push through the diner door. “Not knowing where we stood made me anxious. Now I’m not anxious, so I guess we’re good.”
“Well, damn, I guess we’re good then.” I throw my arm over her shoulders and lead her to the booth my family sits in. We’re Stacked Deck, and Maddi asked for a meet.
“Took you a while to make your way inside,” Evie drawls. “Explain to me, lady and gentleman, why it took ten minutes to walk twenty feet?”
“We made out for a bit first. Now scoot.” I tug Evie out of the booth and shove her down beside Bean on the other side. Then I slide in beside Ben and pull Maddi in on the end.
She barely has room to sit, but I cuddle her against my side and completely ruin the professionalism she was hoping for.
Mac’s mom, sensing new customers, comes out of the kitchen with her coffee pot in hand, and a pen in the other.
Katrina was a teen mom, so despite the fact Mac is now a grown man, his mom isn’t all that old. She has midnight black hair, perpetually glossy lips, since she has a thing for lipstick, and a mile-wide streak of sass that’ll cut any man down if he dares cross her. She’s not my mother, but I sure as shit did as I was told when I was growing up and visiting this place for the food and company.
She stops by our table now, sliding her pen into her hair as she fills coffee mugs out of habit. Freeing a hand, she cups my cheeks like I truly was her child, and smiles when our eyes meet.
“Good afternoon, Miss Kat. How are you doing today?”
“Pretty decent, baby.” She looks to Maddi. “I know who you are, but we’ve yet to be introduced.”
Instead of waiting for me to do it, Maddi lifts a hand, and waits for Katrina to take it. “Madilyn Tosky, ma’am. And you’re Mac’s mom.”
“I sure am. It’s lovely to meet you. You’re not a fighter, are you?”
“Nope. I wouldn’t survive the first hit. I’m like those fainting goats. Shock, splat.”
We all laugh as my girlfriend charms the next person on my long list of family she needs to know.
She’s one of us now, she just doesn’t know it yet.
“I can’t say I blame you. I don’t like that every single other person at this table likes to hit people and call it sport. It’s stupid, if you ask me.”
“Good thing we didn’t ask then, hey, Mom?” Mac flashes a taunting grin and waits for his mother to shoot him dead. “Also, I love you very much.”
Katrina reaches into the booth to cup his cheek.
Or at least, that’s what she’d have him believe.
Her cupping, though still motherly, comes with a distinct slap that makes her smile before she pulls back and looks to Maddi. “What can I get you, sweetpea?”
“Can I get a shake, Mom?”
Katrina’s eyes don’t stray from Maddi’s for a single second. “Punk thinks he’s getting something from me.”
“He won’t?”
“My son will starve and watch the rest of you eat. Tomorrow, he’ll be less of a showoff for his friends.” She grins. “Tomorrow, he’ll eat.”
“But, Mom…” Mac fixes his hat and puts on the puppy dog eyes. “But I had a heart transplant that one time. You need to feel sorry for me.”
Katrina reaches into her apron pocket with a lightning fast swing of her arm, comes out with her orders book, and smacks him over the head with it. “You don’t get to use that for pity, Macallistar! What the hell is wrong you?”
“I’m sorry. Mom! I’m sorry.” He cowers under her attack. “Mommy! I love you. And you’re so beautiful and smart and shit.”
As quickly as she began, Katrina stops hitting and comes back to Maddi. “He won’t eat tomorrow either. What can I get you?”
“Umm…” In shock, Maddi looks to me for direction.
I only slide over the menu that none of the rest of us need and leave it to rest in front of her. “A burger, I guess?” She looks to Mac. Back to Katrina. “Two?”
“If you share with my son, then you won’t eat tomorrow either.”
“Oh, well…” Laughing, Maddi shrugs for Mac. “Just one, thanks.”
“Mom!”
As soon as Katrina takes our orders and leaves the table with a little finger-wave for her pouting son, Evie asks what we’re all dying to know.
“Why are we here?”
Maddi called from her official work telephone, using her official work voice, and asked to have a meeting with the representatives of Stacked Deck as soon as we could fit her into our schedules. Technically, when someone wants to speak to Stacked Deck, they mean Ben, Evie, Bean, and Mac. But now that Maddi is involved, I’m taking a slightly more hands-on approach to the business I haven’t touched since its inception.
What can I say? I’m drawn to the pretty girl like a moth to a flame. It’s hardly my fault.
Maddi didn’t bring folders today. No paperwork. But she has a purse, and from that, she pulls an iPad, and sets it in the middle of the table.
“Humor me, won’t you?” Her eyes are for Evie. Our ringleader. “I would like ten minutes of your time before you speak. Once that ten minutes is up, I’ll open the floor to as many questions as you’d like. I’ll answer them all to the best of my ability. But for that first ten, please just hear me out.”
“Question?” Evie lifts a hand and violates the very rule Maddi just laid down. “I’ll give you however long it takes for us to eat. That could be ten, could be twenty. And I promise to hear you out.”
Maddi frowns. “But?”
“Can we do it, ya know, without the pretense?” She looks along the line of fighters. “We’re family. We’re friends. We’re about to host a business meeting over milkshakes and burgers. We don’t do the corporate speak, and if you try, you’ll lose us. Just be you. Like you were at dinner that first time.”
“But… this is my job,” Maddi counters. “This is literally how I’m trained to speak.”
“And I’m just saying, that chick that came to us with a business idea…” Evie scrunches her nose. “I respected her on a professional level. But I can’t say I much liked her. You were too…”
“Like you had a broom up your asshole,” Bean finishes.
“Right!” Evie thrusts a thumb toward our cousin. “Exactly. It felt stiff and awkward.”
“That’s what she said,” Mac coughs.
Evie snickers under her breath. “We signed those contracts because you delivered a good speech that made business sense, but when Bry walked in, and you lost that tightly-strung composure? That was fun. A week later, you turn up in Bry’s living room with bleeding elbows…” She grins. “That was fun too. Then dinner, when you met my grandma, and told Bry to stop screwing around every two seconds. That chick, the one outside of work, is pretty cool. So since we’re not in your office, you’re not in a suit—”
“And the broom is nowhere in sight,” Bean adds.
Evie nods. “How about we just be us? Let’s talk like normal people. Because if you come at me with business speak, I’m gonna zone-out real quick. Ask Ben, I don’t do business speak. I don’t do numbers unless they’re dollars. Tell us your plan, but stop worrying about impressing us.”
“Um…” Maddi’s voice cracks with uncertainty.
I feel a little bad for her, because having truth laid down so bluntly can hurt, but truth is truth, so I leave it to hang, and smile for her when she straightens her spine.
“Okay. I wanna do a dinner.”
“Probably should’ve ordered two burgers, if you’re already thinking about dinner.”
Gritting her teeth, only to let go on a laugh, Maddi
points at Evie. “You’re goading me.”
“And now you’re smiling. Tell me about your dinner.”
“So I was at a function recently that I organized in conjunction with—”
She pauses when Evie obnoxiously yawns.
Huffing, Maddi throws her hands up in exasperation. “Fuck it. I whacked together an event where a bunch of old snobs got together and attempted to out-snob each other. Everyone wore their funeral best, many wore toupees. Women wore diamonds that they got from their lovers, but when their husbands asked, they lied and did the whole ‘honey, don’t you remember buying this for our anniversary?’ thing.”
“Sounds like a fucktastically boring event. Keep going.”
“The event was for an artist to sell his piles of shit to old people who had money to burn and zero cells in their brains. In exchange, the oldies got to flaunt how much money they had, those who couldn’t afford to keep up got to be put in their places, and the artist – and Monaco,” she adds, “made bags of benjamins to take home and swim in.”
“This party is beginning to sound more and more fun.”
Bean only laughs and leans toward the iPad that Maddi set on the table. She flicks through pictures of the art, the ballroom, the suits and meals.
“Now tell us your point.” Evie is no longer being mean. She’s entertained by the colorful storytelling. “I’m listening.”
“So, I’ve been thinking a lot about my company’s relationship with yours.”
“You wanna ride us to make more benjamins for Monaco?” Evie lifts a brow and loses a little interest. “We’re not open to offering more than we already have. Sorry.”
“No. I don’t want this to be a Monaco thing. Well, not officially. No doubt Monaco will get a mention, since you’ve signed that endorsement deal. But this is for the fighters. A dinner, a black-tie event, much like the kind they do for the mainstream fighting circuit. Let’s add a little more class to the tournament. Have this fancy dinner, invite people who might spend a few dollars.”
“Our people can’t afford what your lot pay for dinner, Miss Tosky. You’re losing me.”
“What about a hundred dollars a plate? Enough to pay for the food, and have a little leftover on the side. We come up with a way to raise money. We invite the fighters, but we also invite those with a little cash. Everyone gets to mingle, we pilfer from the rich folks, and then we—”