Page 60 of Between Steel and Secrets
Fourteen
Liam
Bristol Greyson is the last person I expect to find joining us tonight—although I’m not sure she’s technically joining us. It seems like she showed up to give me a tongue lashing.
Typical of Bristol.
I can’t believe Harper made a video and put it out for everyone to see on social media! Was she trying to humiliate me?
“Seriously, Harper?”
“Sorry,” she grimaces and her cheeks blush, “the phone glitched, and then I was trying to find the camera feature, and you have a lot of apps on your phone. I screwed up.”
“Yes, you did,” I grumble, annoyed.
Luca scoots his chair between Harper and me. “If you have a problem with my wife, take it up with me, Liam.”
“Stay out of it, Ricci.” Why does he have to fight all of his wife’s battles? I turn around, facing Bristol and ignoring Luca, which I’m not sure is the better option.
“What do you want, Firebreather?” I snap, glancing her over.
She’s dressed up, sort of. Bristol is wearing a Predators’ jersey—she’s clearly the enemy—and black, skin-tight leggings, which show off her thighs. But the dressed-up bit is the dark-green, sparkly heels, and her hair and makeup look freshly done.
“Cute shoes.” I glance down at the sparkly shoes that seem a little too dressy for the outfit.
Her eyes widen in horror as she glances down at her feet.
“Oh my gosh!” Red creeps onto her cheeks and she slinks into the nearest chair at our table.
“I didn’t say that you could join us,” I grumble at Bristol.
“Yeah, well, fuck off, Moretti. I’m sitting.” She folds her hands on the table and glares at me.
Is this a staring contest?
I’m pretty sure I’d win.
But if it’s a silent competition, she loses, because she opens her mouth first. “I didn’t say you could call my father, twice. Now, look where we are.” She glares at me.
“You called her father?” Luca’s voice catches in his throat. “Kyler Greyson?”
“He owes me a favor,” I boast. I refrain from pointing out that I technically only called Kyler once, the other time I texted him. He, however, called me.
“I owe you something, Moretti. How about a black eye?” Bristol threatens, showing her rage in the form of a fist.
“Liam,” the DJ announces my name to sing the next song. I stand and grab Bristol’s arm.
“You’re coming with me.”
“What?” Her eyes widen in horror. “You’re not serious!”
I drag her with me up on stage, and the DJ hands me a microphone and then her one as well.
“You’re an asshole,” Bristol grumbles at me.
I offer a wry grin. “Thanks, Firebreather.”
The song “Gives you Hell” begins playing.
