by Emilia Finn
“Line Monaco’s pockets?” Evie shakes her head. “Strike two.”
“No! I said this isn’t a Monaco thing. We give the money back to the fighters.”
Mac’s brows come up. “To the fighters? How do you mean?”
“What if we pad those purses with a little extra?” Maddi prompts. “Or maybe we can offer a best and fairest type thing. Maybe a guy fought really well. Maybe he lost, but he put in a really good effing effort.”
Everyone’s eyes go to Mac.
“Oh, so a pity prize?” he accuses. “A participation trophy? Get the fuck outta here.”
“I like it,” Evie murmurs. She turns away from Mac’s bitter scowl and looks to Maddi. “We could award a cash prize to the crowd favorite. The best fight, the most spirited fighter or whatever.”
“Do not award that shit to me,” Mac growls. “I will be offended if you give it to me.”
Evie rolls her eyes. “Motion to disqualify Mac from ever receiving the participation trophy, all those in favor, say aye.”
As a group – including Maddi and Mac – in monotone, we say “Aye.”
“Good, now that’s off the table, would you care to rejoin this discussion, whiner?”
Evie tosses Maddi’s menu at him, and snorts out a laugh when he bats it away.
“So you think we could raise enough money to come up with something substantial without dipping into existing coffers?” she asks.
“Sure.” Maddi finds her stride and smiles. “We raised more than twenty million dollars at my last event.”
“The fuck, you what?” Katrina stops by our table with a tray of milkshakes. “Twenty million… rupees?”
“Nope, green money. Fifteen million went to the artist, five went to Monaco. A hundred thousand slid into my Christmas bonus, and hell, I have some fancy shoes picked out for when that money hits my bank on December twenty-fifth.”
“But… twenty million.” Katrina folds a little lower and looks into Maddi’s eyes. “You say it like it’s not a big deal. You say it like it’s twenty bucks.”
Maddi shrugs, which only sends Katrina back to stand tall.
“You and I are not from the same people, young lady. I think you’re sweet as pie, and pretty to boot. But we are not the same people.”
Shaking her head, Katrina distributes shakes – one for Mac, too – and walks away without another word except, perhaps, a couple of mutters about money.
Dragging her shake forward, Maddi pulls the straw between her teeth and smiles. “Stop looking at me like that. That money isn’t for me, it’s not for my bank. I’m just the minion in the middle. But my point is, I think we could do something similar for Stacked Deck. We could raise a few dollars for this new prize, and—”
Mac raises his hand. “Motion to re-include Mac in the twenty-million-dollar dignity exchange award. All those in favor, please say aye.”
When no one does, he turns to Bean. “Say ‘aye,’ woman!”
“Nope, Mac’s out.” Evie declares. “Teach him a lesson for being so damn proud.” She looks to Maddi. “Your thing included rich old people and art they really wanted. We have neither.”
“My job is to find and deliver the people with money. The thing we’ll sell… well, we can brainstorm that.”
“I’ll sell my body,” Mac throws down. “For twenty million dollars, I will for sure cheat on my girl. Then I’ll buy her back with my twenty million fucking dollars.”
“You’re an asshole!” Bean slams her elbow into his ribs and folds him forward with a gasp. “I will sell my boyfriend. But there’s a no-returns policy. I’m done with his whining ass anyway.”
“You lie.” He pulls her into a tight hug and smothers the side of her face with kisses.
She tries her damnedest to retain her crankiness, but she cracks within seconds, and snuggles in like we all knew she would.
“You love me, Lucy. And you know I love the shit out of you.”
“So… this is happening?” Maddi looks around our small group. “I could put it together pretty quickly. Maybe host the dinner not so far out from the tournament. A last hurrah before fight night.”
“Why not sooner?” I ask. “Do we really wanna be hosting a dinner on top of organizing a tournament and training for said tournament all in the same month? Woman, there’s only so much we can do.”
“It has to be December.” Maddi looks to Evie. “Your wedding is this month. We’re not hijacking the month for this. Plus, I’ll be organizing the dinner. You do you, train, do whatever it is you do leading in—”
“So, like, gym selfies while he flexes his muscles?” Evie taunts. She looks directly into my eyes. “He doesn’t do shit all else. He’s a freeloader, turns up to fight, then leaves again.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m not ashamed. Y’all are jealous you can’t be as effortlessly lazy as me. It’s a gift, really.”
“I will organize the event,” Maddi rolls straight over my words. “All you have to do is show up. It’ll be black-tie, so you’ll need to organize outfits, but since your wedding is near, I vote you just keep those suits. The girls just need new dresses. Also, I’ll need your input while we think of ways to raise money. If the first year goes well, we can make it an annual thing,” she continues. “Every year, Stacked Deck’s season will open with this dinner. Everyone will know to expect it, and instead of your fighters being in town for a week, maybe they’ll be here for two. That means more money will be pumped into the town, creating more profit for the little businesses.”
“More money in Monaco’s pockets?” Evie lifts a daring brow.
Maddi shakes her head. “Car parts aren’t usually an impulse buy, plus, we’re already national. We’re in every car parts store, every mechanic’s garage, every gas station and whatever other businesses are relevant. Bringing people here won’t change our bottom line. But it will benefit small business. And that’s good for all of us.”
“A black-tie dinner…” Evie considers.
She sits back when Katrina arrives with our food. Six plates, six sets of silverware that go completely ignored by everyone but Maddi. We each pick up our burgers and take a bite, but Maddi unwraps her silverware and slowly, meticulously, begins cutting it in half.
Evie watches her with a lifted brow and a full mouth. Bean does the same.
Ben leans forward with a scowl. “What in the Mac-Ain’t-Getting-That-Twenty-Mil are you doing, Tosky? Are we already wearing suits?”
Maddi’s eyes whip up to find everyone watching her hands. Heat rushes to her cheeks, and I swear, her eyes turn glassy. “I…” Her gaze flits from one person to the next. “What?”
“The fuck you doing?” Mac snaps. “Who cuts a damn burger?”
“I mean…” Maddi’s voice cracks. “I do.”
“But why?” Bean takes another hefty bite. “Tastes better when you eat it like this.”
“But eating like that makes a mess. Ketchup drops, and you ruin your lipstick.”
“Nobody’s wearing lipstick!”
“For fuck’s sake,” I huff. I study my plate, select a fry, then I turn back to her and place it between my teeth. “Eat it, Turdsky.”
“Eat…” Her eyes turn positively terrified. “What?”
“Eat my fry.” I slide my hand into her lap beneath the table, creep higher along her thighs until she snaps them closed, then I smile. “Eat my fuckin’ potato, Turdsky.”
“This isn’t… I can’t—” She’s ready to shoot through the roof. “This is not how you act at the table!”
“No?” I slide my hand right to her crotch and push her panties aside. Thank god the table hides my hand. “Three.”
“Bry, don’t you dare.”
“Eat my fry, baby. Two.” I glide my knuckles over her wet opening, and grin when her breath comes to a standstill.
“Bry…” Her voice turns breathy. “Please stop.”
“One.”
I slide my finger in and hide her squeaked gasp with a kiss that tran
sfers the fry from my mouth to hers. Then I pull back and wink while she merely sits with the fry in her mouth. And when she pulses around my fingers, I move just once. One discreet pump before I pull out and use that hand to pick up more fries.
I shove them all into my mouth, lick the salt – and her – straight off my skin, then laugh when her cheeks fight to decide if they’re going to burn bright red, or lose all color completely.
“Eat up, beautiful. Damn.” I dig my fingers back into the pile and take more fries. “These are delicious. Oh, on that note, will you be my plus one for Smalls’ wedding?”
Maddi
Wedding Bells
For the last month or two, my friendship with Jenna has been strained at best. Frigid at worst.
I considered suggesting Evie and Lucy ask Jenna to make their dresses for the First Annual Stacked Deck Gala, but in the end, decided not to.
It’s not like Evie doesn’t already have contact with the woman I could have sworn was my best friend all of my life, so if they discuss the gala dresses while in a fitting for the wedding dress, then that’s up to them. But I’m officially stepping away until Jen and I get a chance to talk about our problems.
I can’t say I know exactly what those are, because selfishly, I’m such a shitty friend that I’ve been spending my time hanging out with Bry instead of turning up on Jenna’s doorstep and demanding she talk to me.
That’s how it’s always been for us; she gets mad, and I have to pander to her moods until she’s ready to talk. More often than not, her anger was borne because she didn’t get her own way on something, so I, the eternal ass-patter, would apologize, make better whatever it was she wanted, and we’d go back to being the best of friends.
Our families loved it, of course. Except perhaps my grandpa, who told me to ‘Buck up and demand respect’. To him, the Prices are the paid help. Whereas to my father, they’re powerful, influential allies.
It’s all about perspective, I suppose.
But either way, I’ve jumped off that ride since Bry entered my life. He came in like a storm I loathed, but now he’s a… well, he’s still a storm. But I might be a little too attached for my own good.
“Let’s go, Turdsky!”
Yup, there’s my impatient tornado.
“We gotta go, baby! The ceremony is set for three. It’s already two-thirty.”
“I know. I’m sorry!”
I stand in his master bathroom and apply a heavy coat of lipstick that I know for a fact he’ll mess up before we arrive at the church. And yet, I apply it meticulously, I make it perfect, and when I cap the tube, I drop it into my clutch, because I’m going to need to fix it ten minutes from now.
Stepping away from the mirror with a sigh, I study my gown – Jenna Price, of course. It’s such a dark blue, it’s almost black. My shoulders are left completely bare and show off the long line of my neck. Sleeves rest on the outsides of my arms, and diamonds sparkle along the collar to show off the dress’ shape. The fabric follows the line of my body right down to my stomach, then it flares a little, to lend a princess air.
Bryan will love that.
To complement the dress, I wear nail polish that matches the fabric, and silver heels. My hair is tied back in a bun, but it’s not severe like how I wore it to the art auction not so long ago. It’s kind of loose, slouchy, and leaves several strands to hang free and tickle my shoulders.
I’m dressed up like I’m going to a Monaco event. But I don’t feel quite so restricted. I feel lovely. And daring. I feel like I’m a kid playing dress-up, and I can’t say I ever did that when I was a child. Not the pretend kind; I was too busy doing it for real, as my father dragged me around from one event to the next.
“Madilyn!”
“I’m coming!” I snatch up my clutch with a last glance at my outfit, then dash out of the bathroom with a grin on my face, only to slam against a broad chest, and almost lose my footing.
With a squeal, I topple backward, but am caught by Bry’s strong hands and playful laughter. “Whoa there. How’m I supposed to fuck you in those heels at the reception if you rush around and break your ankles?”
Pushing back to my own two feet, I lift my chin in stubborn defiance, and look down on him – since I know it’ll make him laugh.
“First of all, peasant, you told me to rush. Second, you crashed into me. It’s lucky you caught me, or you’d be in a lot of trouble.”
“I would hate for you to fall on your delectable ass, Madilyn. You look fuckin’ stunning, by the way.”
“Thirdly!” I lift my chin higher. Higher. And almost wrench my neck in my efforts. “We will not be fucking at the ceremony. Or the reception. Or anywhere else, unless it’s back here in your bed.”
“Wanna bet?”
He yanks me forward and forces my face-down until he can take my lips. Then my act is gone, my ice-princess pretense is gone, because his tongue is so damn skilled. His hands roam my back, his fingers slide along my zipper.
He’s tempted to undo it all and make us late. But he knows better.
One hand rests on my hip to anchor me close, but the other is on an expedition around to my boobs, to the back of my neck so his fingertips tickle the base of my bun.
But again; he knows better.
“You look good enough to eat.” He pulls back, but only to press his forehead to mine. “Jesus, I’m always so hungry for you, Maddi. Is this normal?”
“Uh…” I release a nervous laugh. “I can’t say one way or the other. Though I’ve never been attacked this often by a man before, if that helps?”
“Get used to it,” he murmurs and drops a kiss on my lips. “But only by me. Any other man wants to cut in, send him to me. I’ll set him straight.”
“I’m sure you will. Come on.” I reach forward and fix his tie. “We’d better go.”
Since this town is so small, it only takes ten minutes to move from door to door. We travel in Bry’s Camaro – not very fitting for my dress, I might add – and pull up a block away from the church that today’s services will be held in.
Helping me out of the car and tucking my arm in his, Bry proves he can be fancy sometimes too.
“You look really handsome.” I lean against him as we walk. “I meant to tell you that.”
“Aww, thanks.” His chest bounces with soft laughter. “My mom helped me pick this out.”
“Hey, Bry?”
He presses a kiss to the side of my head. “Mmm?”
“How does it feel to be such a momma’s boy?”
He throws his head back on a laugh. “It feels fuckin’ good. You can’t shame this out of me, Madilyn. I was in love the day I met her.”
“You mean, like, when you were a baby?”
He lifts a brow and helps me step up onto the sidewalk. “It was love at first sight, and there’s never been a time I doubted my love since. My mom is…” He ponders. “Well, she’s old-school fuckin’ crazy. She will take a man out if they hurt her family.”
“Wow,” I drawl. “Can’t believe she didn’t pass that behavior down to her children.”
“Oh, she did.” He laughs. “My sisters are psychos too, but they’re on my side of this war, so I let them do their thing and wipe everyone else out. My mom is fierce, and smart. She’s beautiful and kind, but she’s no one’s fool. She will take a fucker out if they hurt us.”
“So if you and I decide to stop seeing each other…?”
He grins. “I’ll cry, which already makes you dead meat. Honestly, it’s best if you stay with me forever and give me all the good sex and shit.”
“So romantic.” I give an exaggerated sigh and melt into his side. “I can’t believe this is the man that makes my heart race.”
“Hey, Maddi?”
Now my heart really does race. His tone makes my stomach whoosh. “Mm?”
“Do you love me?”
And then my heart stops.
I stumble in my heels, and let him catch me as I try to study his eyes. “Um… w
hat?”
He tucks my arm securely in his, and pats my hand, like he thinks that’s a decent way to comfort me. “Because I think I love you. I don’t know love for people outside my family, so I guess what I feel could just be indigestion or something. But…” He shrugs. “I dunno. I miss the shit out of you when you’re gone. And I feel nice when you’re right in front of me. I yearn for you even if you’re in the next room, and my face hurts when we eat with my family and I get to watch you interact with them. I look at your body and want to mount you.”
“Charming.”
He smiles. “I just… well… I’ve known women in the past. I’ve had fun with women in the past.”
“We don’t need to discuss them.”
He chuckles. “My point is, I already felt something that very first night I met you.”
“Yeah, what you felt was my knee slamming against your nutsack, Bry.”
“No, stop.” He stops us just fifty feet from the church doors, and turns back to cup my face. “I felt something the night I met you. I asked you to ride with me, Maddi.”
I nod, because that’s all I have to give him. If I open my mouth, I might say things that will make my stomach twist.
“You didn’t ride with me, but fuck, you left me thinking about you. No chick has ever done that to me before.”
“You thought about me because I had your hat.”
“You having my hat was…” he bobs his head, “worrisome, since I wasn’t sure you were thinking of me with the same fondness I thought of you. But the fact you had it provided the perfect opportunity for me to drop by your office. Do you recall Tuck? My friend at the track?”
“Mm?”
“I told him I would invite him to the wedding.”
I frown. “Whose wedding?”
“Our wedding.” He presses a kiss to my gaping lips. “I didn’t even know you yet, but I was already telling him to be ready with a suit.”