“Please, Liam,” Tria implored, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no.
So as the women-folk locked themselves in the bedroom, I was stuck trying to entertain myself all day with a guy who I really didn’t want to be anywhere near. Lucky for me, he didn’t seem to be in much of a talking mood. For the most part, we smoked cigarettes and drank beer in silence on the porch.
As the afternoon dragged on, Brandon was getting more and more tense. I was trying to make sure he paced himself and ate something throughout the day so he wasn’t totally shit-faced by the time we were supposed to go to whatever fucked up little magical altar in the woods where this was all goi
ng to take place. I glanced over at Brandon’s empty bottle between his hands, noticed the condition of my own, and figured it was time for another.
“Want me to grab you one?” I asked as I stood up.
Brandon just nodded, so I headed inside to the fridge. Through the window, I stared at the water pouring from the sky and wondered if it was ever going to fucking stop. How was it that the whole town didn’t just float into the sea? I also wondered if my jacket was going to be enough to keep me from being absolutely soaked before the whole thing was done.
I couldn’t believe I was actually going to hang out and watch a public train.
Before I got back to the front door, I heard an unfortunately familiar voice.
“Where’d the bike come from?”
“Demmy,” Brandon replied.
With determination—but for what, I wasn’t sure—I opened the door and stepped back out onto the porch. Douchebag looked up immediately.
“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Keith glared at me with flared nostrils.
I was never one to turn down boobs, but punching this asshole in the face just might be worth the loss.
Chapter 23—Take the Plunge
There was a part of me that was highly amused by the whole thing. I could tell by the wide-eyed look Douchebag flickered between me and Brandon that he had no idea I was here. I could also tell by Brandon’s nonchalant attitude that he didn’t mind me being here anymore, and he also didn’t give a shit that Keith was pissed off about it.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Keith yelled at Brandon. “Do you know who this asshole is?”
“He came with Demmy…er…Tria,” Brandon replied.
“He’s the one I warned you about!”
I walked casually over to Brandon and handed him his beer. I turned to Keith and kept looking at him as I tilted my own beer to my lips just as casually, then pulled out a smoke and lit it.
“You want one?” I asked Brandon.
“Yeah,” he replied.
Holding in the smirk was impossible as I handed Brandon a cigarette, then held out my lighter, flicked it, and lit the smoke for him. I knew how friendly and natural the whole action would look from Keith’s point of view, and the only thing that might have amused me more would be his arrival while I was squeezing Tria’s ass with my tongue down her throat.
Yeah, I could be a dick when I wanted to be.
“You don’t smoke!” Keith shouted.
Brandon just shrugged as he inhaled. He had definitely gotten the hang of it over the past day, and he blew the smoke out in a long cloud. Keith just looked back and forth between us for a minute, and I tried to hold in the smirk and look like I was more interested in my beer than anything else going on around me. Finally, he glared at me again.
“You are not welcome here,” the douchebag said to me.
“I’m just hanging out,” I said. “You know—supporting my girlfriend while she supports his wife.”
I gestured toward Brandon with my thumb a couple of times as I let the word girlfriend slip out just as casually as I had lit Brandon’s cigarette. Keith’s face darkened, but his back straightened up as he seemed to get control over himself. He stood taller as he turned to Brandon.
“This area is reserved for people in our community,” Keith said.
Brandon stood on the top step of the porch. I leaned against a post behind him, which I hoped would continue to hold the roof up even with the extra force of my shoulder against it. Keith went on.