Bang (Blast Brothers #2) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,6

following. "What?"

"You know," she said with a sly wink. "When I told you that really funny joke?"

Oh. Then.

My gaze shifted to Mason, and something in his eyes suggested that he knew exactly what Livia was doing. With a look that was almost devious, he turned to her and said, "You wanna share it?"

She swallowed. "What?"

"The joke," he said with no trace of a smile. "Go ahead. Hit me."

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. After a long, awkward silence, she looked to me and suggested, "Why don't you tell it?"

I froze. "Um, well…" I knew lots of jokes, but all of them were more suited to grade schoolers than to adults. I'd look totally ridiculous if I repeated any of those in a nightclub.

Around us, the music was rocking, glasses were clinking, and people were talking. And yet, my own silence felt loud in comparison. Desperately, I tried to think. A joke, a joke…

I was still trying to think of something that was age-appropriate when Livia made a sound of annoyance. "Hurry up," she urged. "He's waiting."

Oh, screw it. I looked to Mason and said, "Actually, I don't remember it either."

He gave a curt nod. "Good."

I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "Wait, why is that good?"

"Because we're wasting time."

Now that was a joke. "You do realize we're in a nightclub, right?"

"Yeah, so."

"So, by definition," I said, "that's why we're here. To waste time."

Next to him, Livia said, "I'm not wasting any time." She made a show of licking her lips. "I can be quite productive, if you know what I mean."

I stared in stunned silence. She wasn't suggesting what I thought she was suggesting.

Was she?

Mason turned to face Livia head-on. Looking less than flattered, he asked, "Is that so?"

"Oh yeah," she said, giving his crotch a long, lingering look. "And I'm so very thirsty."

Oh, God. I wanted to die of embarrassment, although for the life of me, I couldn't imagine why. I mean, it's not like I cared what Mason thought of me. And even if I did care, he'd surely realize that Livia and I were two very different people.

As I watched, Mason reached across Livia and picked up the mojito she'd discarded earlier. He shoved it vaguely in her direction and said, "Here. Now go drink that somewhere else."

She drew back. "What?"

He shoved the drink closer. "You heard me."

"But…" She summoned up a shaky smile. "That's, um, not what I meant, actually."

Watching from the sidelines, I didn't know whether to laugh or sympathize. I'd known Livia since kindergarten, and I'd never seen her so rattled. Then again, I'd never seen her rejected before.

Mason was still holding the drink. "I know what you meant," he told her. "And like I already said, I'm not interested." He flicked his gaze toward the mojito. "Now do you want this or not?"

Yikes.

By now, I almost wanted the thing. Livia had barely touched it, and the glass was still nearly full. Oh sure, the ice had gone all melty, but I didn't care. Suddenly, the thought of any drink, watery or not, sounded shockingly good.

I was still eying the mojito when Livia practically ripped it from Mason's hands. Not bothering with the straw, she lifted the glass to her lips and downed the whole thing without coming up for air, not even once.

I had to admit, it was pretty darn impressive.

When she finished, she thrust the empty glass toward Mason and said, "There. You happy?"

"Not really," he said, making no move to take the glass. "You were supposed to do that somewhere else."

Her eyes narrowed. "You are such an asshole. You know that?"

"No kidding." And with that, he turned back to me and said, "About the job offer, let's talk."

Chapter 4

Cami

Mason's two final words hung between us. Let's talk?

I didn't want to talk. By now, I was so unsettled, I could hardly think. Plus, Livia was still refusing to leave, which made this conversation doubly awkward.

Just yesterday, I'd interviewed with the manager of her dad's jewelry store.

The job was for weekends only, which was better than nothing, especially given the sorry state of my finances. Even so, a part-time job in retail was a long way from where I'd hoped to be by now.

I'd graduated from college several months ago, but I still hadn't found full-time employment. So a few weeks ago, I'd done the only thing that made sense. I'd registered for more classes, looking to make some headway on getting my master's degree.

This wasn't my first choice. Still, it

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