“You’re not jealous, are you, Pigeon?”
“Jealous of what? The STD-infested imbecile you’re going to piss off in the morning?”
Travis laughed, and then started his Harley. He flew toward his apartment at twice the speed limit, and I closed my eyes to block out the trees and cars we left behind.
After climbing off his bike, I smacked his shoulder. “Did you forget I was with you? Are you trying to get me killed?”
“It’s hard to forget you’re behind me when your thighs are squeezing the life out of me.” A smirk came with his next thought. “I couldn’t think of a better way to die, actually.”
“There is something very wrong with you.”
We had barely made it inside when America shuffled out of Shepley’s bedroom. “We were thinking about going out tonight. You guys in?”
I looked at Travis and grinned. “We’re going to swing by the sushi place before we go to Red.”
America’s smile spanned from one side of her face to the other. “Shep!” she cried, scampering into the bathroom. “We’re going out tonight!”
I was the last one in the shower, so Shepley, America, and Travis were impatiently standing by the door when I stepped out of the bathroom in a black dress and hot pink heels.
America whistled. “Hot damn, Mama!”
I smiled in appreciation, and Travis held out his hand. “Nice legs.”
“Did I mention that it’s a magic razor?”
“I don’t think it’s the razor,” he smiled, pulling me out the door.
We were far too loud and obnoxious in the sushi bar, and had already had a night’s worth to drink before we stepped foot in the Red Door. Shepley pulled into the parking lot, taking time to find a space.
“Sometime tonight, Shep,” America muttered.
“Hey. I have to find a wide space. I don’t want some drunken idiot dinging the paint.”
Once we parked, Travis leaned the seat forward and helped me out. “I meant to ask you about your IDs. They’re flawless. You didn’t get them around here.”
“Yeah, we’ve had them for a while. It was necessary … in Wichita,” I said.
“Necessary?” Travis asked.
“It’s a good thing you have connections,” America said. She hiccupped and covered her mouth, giggling.
“Dear God, woman,” Shepley said, holding America’s arm as she awkwardly stepped along the gravel. “I think you’re already done for the night.”
Travis made a face. “What are you talking about, Mare? What connections?”
“Abby has some old friends that—”
“They’re fake IDs, Trav,” I interrupted. “You have to know the right people if you want them done right, right?”
America purposefully looked away from Travis, and I waited.
“Right,” he said, extending his hand for mine.
I grabbed three of his fingers and smiled, knowing by his expression that he wasn’t satisfied with my answer.
“I need another drink!” I said as a second attempt to change the subject.
“Shots!” America yelled.