she’s going to, but then she slips. Sometimes I wish she didn’t have so much goddamned money. Her tastes are expensive. Too bad she has such a good business sense. I almost wish she didn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Naturally, Luis deflected the conversation with quick wit, overcompensating for the fact that he was feeling something other than flirtatious with humor.
“She could have worse fixations. Remember her hard rock phase? If I’d had to see one more leather skirt, I was gonna puke.”
“That really was a tragic decade,” I added, playing along for his sake, even though he didn’t deserve an easy way out. It wasn’t like they’d given me any slack over the last few months. “Almost as bad as Bonham’s Garth Brooks phase.”
Bonham slapped his face with both his hands in embarrassment as Luis booed. “He was the king of country!” Bonham tried to explain, before leaning over to mercilessly tickle me. I squealed and laughed so hard that tears rolled down my cheeks, rolling around on my mattress as Luis joined in on the assault. I finally managed to wrap both my arms around their necks and pull them close, crashing them to my chest in a drunk attempt at getting them to stop, but instead, it had the opposite effect.
Luis nipped at my cleavage, biting and sucking just enough that it would leave a generous hickey. “You asshole,” I moaned before lifting my hips up to move Bonham’s fingers, which were tickling dangerously close to my pantyline. My laughter was starting to sound scarily similar to pants as Bonham dipped one time to brush along my soft skin before pulling away.
Loud stomps sounded down the hallway and both guys jumped to their feet. Luis grabbed the bottle of champagne and tossed it under my bed just before the door opened and in rushed Mama, wearing a nightie that was bright red and see-through.
“Hey Principle Livingston!” Bonham greeted with a shy wave, after roaming his eyes up and down her body. He threw a thumbs up behind his back that only I could see. Pig.
“What are you boys doing here? It’s four in the morning on a school night, for Christ’s sake!” She ran her hands through her hair and then quickly wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if realizing that they were getting an eyeful of her body through the racy material.
“Just wanted to see if that old tree outside her bedroom was sturdy enough to climb still, Principle Livingston,” Luis said with a smirk.
Mama knew all about our impromptu sleep overs. She’d gotten used to it over the years, but it had been a good while since she’d caught us all in bed together.
“You’d best go on home now, or y’all move to the guest room. You’re getting too old for this. And Jesus, Scarlett. Wear something decent if you know you’re having the boys coming over.” My brows shot up as Mama clutched her arms even closer, aware of the irony of that statement.
“Yes ma’am,” I choked out as Luis and Bonham headed towards the window with barely contained laughter. They quickly opened it and left with a wink.
“Those damn boys,” Mama said, but there was a small tick at the edge of her lips. She had just started to leave the room when she paused at the door. “Clean up that champagne you spilled on the carpet, Scar. Your room smells like a fucking bar.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
When my alarm went off the next morning, I rolled over with a groan. I hadn’t slept much. I might not have even slept at all. I couldn’t get my brain to shut off even though Luis and Bonham provided a nice, albeit momentary, distraction. I just kept hearing Dean O’Banion’s voice from the train tracks.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his shadowed smile and felt the memory of his rough hand on me. And though I haven’t actually seen them, I kept imagining the photos of those poor girls, and couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be next.
My emotions were still a jumbled mess as I got up to shower, and I had a right nasty hangover. Champagne always went straight to my head and left it aching the next day. I went through the motions of washing and drying myself, of getting dressed in my uniform and putting makeup on, but my bloodshot eyes and the crease between my brows revealed my anxiety. I couldn’t hold back the weariness on my face.
What if O’Banion