Bully King - J.A. Huss Page 0,58

don’t look back. I just slip around the side of the house and head towards the little patio that leads to my room.

I’m just reaching for the door when I hear Mona call out from next door. “Lovers’ quarrel?”

I look over my shoulder and study her. She’s kicking back on her patio couch underneath a light that must also act as a bug zapper because it’s zap-zap-zapping away. Her legs are crossed and her feet are up in the air. She’s wearing some kind of feathery, high-heel red slipper shoes and a short, purple satin robe open in the front to reveal a scarlet lace nightie.

Her dark hair is piled up on top of her head and I know this looks like she spent hours making it messy, but cute, the way people like Isabella do. But I know for a fact that Mona Monroe doesn’t give one fuck about her looks. She wore cut-off coveralls to the Glass House today.

And, of course, she is smoking.

“No,” I say, finally answering her question.

“Come over here,” she says. “I have a joint. Wanna smoke it?”

I hesitate.

“Don’t tell me ya don’t smoke. Come on. It’s legal now so what’s the problem?”

I don’t smoke. Anything. Not cigarettes or joints.

But… I don’t know. It’s not like I have a better offer waiting for me inside.

She laughs and sits up when I start crossing the grass between us. Her patio is a little bigger than mine. Both of them have a concrete floor and an awning overhead. But hers is surrounded by a short brick wall that matches her dark brick house. And there’s a little gate to pass through before you can enter.

I like the gate. If that patio was actually mine, and I actually had money to own a house, then I would consider half-walling in my patio and putting up a little decorative gate too.

But of course, that’s not my patio or my house so I don’t know why the hell I’m having renovation fantasies about it.

I push through the gate and plop down onto a huge overstuffed, circular patio chair. “How come you’re not at the party?”

“Do I look like the kind of girl who parties with Isabella Huntington?”

“They come to your parties.”

She pulls a joint out of her mess of hair, the same way she pulled a cigarette out of it down at the pool earlier, then smiles at my reaction. “Yeah. Because they want to use me.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Why should it? It’s not my money paying for anything around here. Besides, I like to trash the house at least twice a year so it can get redecorated.”

Wow. “Don’t your parents get mad about that?”

“Parents?” She laughs. “Have you seen any parents around here?”

I think about this for a moment. “No. But… I’ve never been on this side of the lake until a few days ago.”

“I don’t have parents.”

“Hmm. Me either.”

“Yeah. I like that about you.” She lights the joint and takes a draw on it, blowing out a sweet, but skunky-smelling puff of smoke. She hands it to me.

“I’ve never smoked before.”

“That’s not a secret.” Then she wiggles her fingers for me to take the joint.

I do and look at it for a moment.

“Just put it up to your lips and suck.” She giggles. “Pretend it’s Cooper’s cock.”

I shoot her a look.

“Or Ax’s. Or Lars’. Bully king of choice. They’re all the same, I suppose.” She pauses and looks at me, her cigarette still between her fingers. “Aren’t they?”

“Aren’t they what?”

“All the same.”

“No,” I say, putting the joint up to my lips and slowly sucking on the tip. I blow out the smoke, coughing.

“Easy there, Killer Cades. Just breathe in naturally. Enjoy it for a second. And then let it out. You’ll see. This is good shit. You’ll probably only need two hits to catch a buzz.”

“Catch a buzz?” I laugh. “I never thought I’d be having a conversation about catching a buzz with the infamous Mona Monroe.”

“Quit stalling. Take a real hit.”

I do. And this time I don’t cough because I just take a little teeny bit. I take a moment to taste it—gross—then blow it out.

Mona claps for me, smiling, truly looking delighted that I’m partaking with her. “OK. Don’t bogart.”

“What?” And oh, my God. I think I feel it. “I think I feel it,” I say. Then I take another quick sip of it.

“What did I just say? You’re bogartin’.”

I giggle the smoke out of my lungs. “I don’t even know what that word means.”

She giggles