“Fine,” he lied. He’d take it off as soon as he could, leave it at work. It didn’t have patches or buckles, but it didn’t need them. It was a Rangers’ jacket, her ex-husband’s. Something he never wanted to wear again.
He left praying Paula meant what she was saying about AA. He didn’t need more drama, and no one stirred up more drama than bikies.
He set off on foot down Vandal Street, irritatingly warm and, as always, thinking about Nicole. They’d messed around now. Did that mean they were free to explore the thing between them? He doubted it. Nicole was a nester. Once the dust from her break up settled, she’d pick out pictures for Bumble or eHarmony or wherever girls like her looked for guys who weren’t him. Anyone could see Nicole DaSilva had a life template and the spot marked ‘husband’ sure as fuck wasn’t Newcomb sized.
Husband.Noah snorted as he lit the cigarette between his teeth. He had some fucking nerve even thinking the word, considering he had no money, a criminal record and a pending vasectomy. He needed to get his head out of his ass and leave Nicole alone. She’d sort her own life out eventually, then she’d be gone. Time would sand his feelings down to nothing and in the meantime there were cigarettes, looking out for Paula, and painting. He’d buy a new canvas tonight. He’d stopped when Paula showed up and started calling him ‘Picasso,’ but who gave a shit? He needed the distraction.
“Hey man, could I have a ciggie?”
The asker was a scraggly guy in his twenties, no jacket despite the morning air. His old man spoke in his ear,‘Piss off, freeloader.’
Noahhanded the guy a cigarette and his lighter.
The guy grinned. “Thanks man. I’ll give you one someday.”
Noah doubted it, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, not giving what you could afford to give was shitty. Edgar showed him that. In the club, anything you had was for you first, The Rangers second and no one else. But why? He wasn’t going to run out of cigarettes.
We all belong to the world, Edgar said.And we all owe the world.
He flicked his butt into the street bin outside Silver Daughters. Belonging to the world was one thing, belonging to people was a whole other game. He’d trusted Edgar and he liked his daughters, but he didn’t want to join another gang. He felt the way he did about Nicole, but didn’t want her turning those gorgeous, life-template eyes onto his shoddy excuse for an existence. Best case scenario, she’d ride his cock until Sam found out, or her guilt would keep her away.
He reached Silver Daughters studio and paused, stretching out both sides of his neck, making them crack before he headed around to the DaSilva’s apartment for the meeting.
The smell of pancakes hit him as soon as he opened the door and his stomach flipped over. Nicole was here; only she would have made pancakes. He toed off his boots, noting Gil’s flashy sneakers. Probably already pestering Nicole for sugar-free syrup. That was good. The more people, the less he’d have to talk.
“Noelle! The Big No!” Tabby bounded toward him, her red skinny jeans and huge green hat clashing with her colourful tattoos. “I need a minute of your time, good sir.”
Sidestepping her clearly wasn’t an option, so he allowed Tabby to lead him into the cramped laundry room and shut the door. “What’s up?”
“Oh, you know, the sun, the Dow Jones. Cool jacket btw.”
Fuck, he’d forgotten about the jacket. He’d shrug it off, but Tabby would read into that. “What do you want?”
“Have you taken any steps toward fulfilling my request? Actually, false question, I know you drove Nix home after her party. Don’t ask me how I know.”
“I wasn’t going—”
“I tracked her phone. And your phone. I’m tracking both your phones. The find my friend app has unleashed a whole new world of phone tracking and I am its emperor.”
Noah rubbed a hand over his eyes. This fucking week. Thesesisters. “Stop tracking my phone.”
He moved for the door, but Tabby blocked him. “Not so fast. You and Nix haven’t smashed. Or if you did, it took all of the two seconds you were parked in our street.”
Noah shook his head. He shouldn’t have started smoking so early, this was going to be a bitch of a morning. “Leave it, Tabby.”
She lifted her chin. “The window’s closing.”
He frowned, not wanting to encourage Tabby to keep talking, but needing to know what she meant.
Tabby grinned, pleased with herself. “Nix is beginning to doubt herself. No solid moves to call off the wedding and she and Fuckface Magee were on the phone for an hour last night. No yelling either, they were actually having aconversation.”
A hollowness entered Noah’s head. So that was how Nicole had spent her night after he’d fingered her? Talking to her ex. He’d eased her sexual pressure and she’d used her clarity of mind to reopen negotiations? Well that was just fucking fine. Not like he had any claim. Not like he wasn’t going to take Daniella to Garden State and fuck her seven ways from Sunday.
“Not my problem,” he told Tabby. “Get out of the way.”
But in the manner of all DaSilvas, she didn’t budge an inch. “You know he cheated on her, right? Aaron? She found condom wrappers in his suit jacket. He was doing some chick from work behind Nix’s back.”
That halted his escape. He stared at Tabby. She wasn’t smiling anymore. “He broke her heart, man, but she stayed with him. He laid the ‘it was a mistake, but we need to have more sex’ guilt trip on her and she bit the bullet.”