19
Angelo
Invitation
For hours, the girls sit in the living room and make plans. Excited plans. Giggly plans. Plans to surf, plans to shop, plans to skinny dip and probably shave all their hair off.
They’re losing touch with reality, and all the while, Kane sits in on their chat and adds his own plans.
That motherfucker has inserted himself into their girl’s trip so seamlessly, I’m not sure they’ve even noticed.
“I could teach you how to surf.”
Impressed, he grins at Jess. “You know how?”
“Of course! We’re a skater family. You think I didn’t learn how to surf? Every summer, we went on family vacation to the beach. Bet your ass me, Luc, and Baby were up with the sharks.”
He turns to Laine. “You can surf, too?”
She nods distractedly and writes notes on their ‘we’re going on a girl’s trip with a thug’ itinerary. “Yeah. Pretty decent at it, too.”
He looks to me. “Can you surf?”
I shrug. “I can skate. Haven’t had much chance to try it in the ocean, though.”
“Fuck me,” he ponders. “I better nimble the fuck up. I can’t have the girls making me look bad.”
“Can’t take guns into the ocean, Bish.” Jess playfully bumps his shoulder. “What ever will you do?”
“Shut up, Blondie. Just wait–”
“Kane.” I set my drink aside with a loud clang and stand. “Get up. I wanna talk to you.”
Laine tilts her head to the side, but I ignore her before I spill my guts like an idiot. Instead, I drag Kane out of the room, down the stairs, and into the garage.
He’s not stupid, nor is he clueless.
He closes the door and turns back with folded arms and a filthy smirk. “Feeling a little put out, Ang? I saw you humping her in the yard; your balls a little blue? Don’t fret, brother, at least you have a set.”
“Shut up. Turn the cameras off, and the sound, and whatever else you got in here that feeds right back to the girls.”
Chuckling, he steps to a control panel built into the wall and enters a passcode into the screen. I catch a glimpse of a house floor plan –thishouse’s floor plan – and watch his high-tech crap turn from green to red in certain parts of the house.
“Done. We’re in the cone of silence, Ninety-Nine. What’s up?”
“You’re going on this road trip with them?”
He scoffs. “It’s insulting you think otherwise. No way in hell am I letting her go on her own. Plus, I wanna go to the beach, too. Picture it,” he raises his hands to make a frame, “blonde hair, itty bitty yellow polka dot bikini, smackable ass, and sass for days.” He flashes a filthy grin. “And I didn’t even get to Jess yet.”
“Dude!”
He chuckles. “I’m kidding. I don’t look at yours, you don’t look at mine. But seriously; bonfires, the beach, days and days of driving. Sounds like fuckin’ heaven to me.”
“I wanna come. Make it so I can come.” I was coming in here to lay down my ‘you’ll make them safe, right?’ and ‘they’re gonna go wild on this trip, and the ocean is way too fucking far away for my comfort,’ but those aren’t the words that leave my lips. “Tell them you don’t wanna play third wheel. Make it so I can come.”
“Just tell them, dumbass. It’s really easy – clap your hands and say‘Road trip!’They have no clue I bamboozled them. I already told you at Greg’s place – attitude is half the fun. Act like you already have an invitation, and they won’t question it.”
“It’s not so easy for me, Bish. You’rewithJess, but I’m just a friend. I can’t demand shit, which is why you gotta do it. This trip is about freedom for her, it’s about shaking Graham off and having fun. And there’s no fucking way in hell I’m staying here while she’s over there doing that.”