Avenging Us - Gina Whitney Page 0,22

for their loyalty.

We provided all the desired amenities for a true Gatsby inspired Rock and Roll banger—his words. Alcohol, food, pool, music, and chicks—his words again. Though, he clarified he only had eyes for me. I never doubt him for a moment.

“Where’s my girl?” Cindy yelled into the crowd of people, her long, blond tresses reaching her waist.

I waved from the table I sat at, the one closest to the pool. No way would anyone want to see me in a bathing suit cooling off in the pool.

She scoped the crowd as she made her way over to me. “No need to rush over, bitch,” she said, kissing my cheek.

“Ha, she’s not capable of getting out of a chair. Look at the basketball she swallowed. A wave is about all she’s capable of.” Chance snickered and I couldn’t contain my eye roll. I had plenty of time to get him back for all his ribbing.

Cindy smacked him. “Oh, please…she looks beautiful. Shit, what happened to your feet?”

I glared at Chance, who laughed loudly. “Abel did this to my feet. In fact, it’s all his fault I’m fat and waddling around. Look what I’m wearing…” I snarled and gathered the material of my bohemian dress.

“At least it’s YSL honey. So please stop complaining…” Chance reprimanded me.

Out of the corner of my eye to the left, I caught Woody, Ender, and Jake wheeling three ice sculptures. Jesus fuck. Woody’s were big breasts with hardened nipples. Jake had the Rolling Stone tongue, and Ender…a big, shapely booty. Figures.

“Kill me now—please,” Cindy railed. “I mean, when will the whore in them grow the fuck up?” She turned and grabbed two glasses of white wine off the tray of a passing waiter. “I need alcohol…and plenty of it.”

“The answer is simple, Cin—never. It’s rock and roll…it’s who they are and what’s expected. Think of it as a cultural thing,” he explained, and as he did, Cindy’s focus shifted to Chance.

Her eyes went up and down his tanned muscled body. And I knew exactly what she was thinking: When did he get to be so built and gorgeous?

Chance sighed heavily, not even noticing. “They’re erotic, ripped, delicious, sexual deviants who play music for swooning fans. They can get away with anything.”

While Chance and Cindy spoke at length about the band’s juvenile habits, Jessie walked in holding a bottle of wine. She wore a beautiful pale blue romper that popped against her porcelain skin. Fuck, I sounded like Chance. Her black hair cut into a severe sleek-bob that made her look ultra-chic. She was a petite little thing…reminded me of a pixie. Before I could wave to her, Ender took her hand, and then Jake took the bottle, placing it on the bar.

“Who the fuck is the pixie?” Cindy asked and took a seat. I laughed and Chance took the other seat, removing his shirt to take in some sun. Cindy snapped her finger and demanded, “More alcohol please,” while Chance handed her his untouched glass.

I was itching to have this conversation, and no time like the present. “That’s Jessie, and it’s a little bit of a story.”

“Ha, is that what you’re calling it?” Chance snorted, making hand quotes.

“Spill it, chick.” She took a long sip of her wine.

“Well, the boys kind of have a thing going on with her.” I paused not knowing how far to take this conversation.

“And?” she shouted. “Wait. What boys?” she amended in a more calm and collected tone.

“Ender and Jake…hello? You have eyes in that gorgeous skull, right?” Chance huffed. She smiled and winked at him. He just rolled his eyes and blew her off.

“Well, are we going to chat or are you going to keep all the goodness to yourself?” Cindy’s tone grew less playful. It was probably every girl’s fantasy…two guys. Just like guys fantasized about two girls.

I decided to gossip. “Okay, here’s what I know… You know she works for us. She’s Michael’s sous chef. However, surprisingly, she has the day off.”

“Well, duh?” Chance commented.

“I don’t even want to know what Michael looks like…do I?” Cindy asked and her eyes cruised the backyard.

Chance nudged her with his elbow. “He’s the chef, and he’s inside.”

“Anyway, I think they’re in a M-M-F relationship, or so Abel says.” There, I finally got it out. Now we can properly break this shit all the way down.

“Shut up!” she said, slamming the table with her fist. Chance jumped. Then she polished off the rest of her wine. “I need something stronger, and we’re