Page 57 of Z For Butterfly Man
“Why are you in it then, if it’s that bad?”
Her boots clack back toward the counter. “Some of us ain’t got a choice.”
And she thinks I do?
She gets busy cutting thorns and trimming stems. “You have a chance at a future where you get to do whatever the fuck you want. You have an education, parents, a good home…”
My hand squeezes the soda can so hard it bursts. Parents? A good home? She’s just one of those people who is impervious to the truth. No one understands. No one wants to see.
No one but Shane. He believes. He sees. He stands by me. He is my future. We’re bound for life. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.
CHAPTER 27
Reagan
At the clubhouse, the air is thick with a tension I can taste on my tongue. The usual noise—music, laughter, the clatter of pool balls—is absent. I push through the front door, and every head in the room turns to look at me like I have shit on my face.
One of the enforcers stares at me with something between pity and disgust. One of the club girls leans against the bar, her arms crossed, shaking her head. A few of the younger guys exchange glances, their expressions unreadable.
My stomach drops. Heat floods my face. I feel naked and ashamed. My hands shake. I clutch the Purple Prince tulip Carla gave me, its stem bending under the pressure of my grip.
They know. That must be it. They’ve figured it out. They know my secret. That’s why Shane didn’t come to pick me up. Oh my God. Shane.
“Where is Blue?” My voice quivers. “Where is he?”
When no one answers, my heart stops. This can’t be happening. I’ll die if anything happens to him. I—
Yelling. Crashing. The unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh slices through the shameful silence.
“You lying piece of shit!” Mason’s voice echoes from the back rooms. “Tell them the fucking truth!”
“Fuck you!” Shane roars back. “You sick bastard, she's fourteen!”
“Shane!” I break into a run, shoving past the brothers blocking the hallway. The door to what they call the chapel isopen, and inside Shane and Mason are on the floor, tangled together in a mess of blood and rage. Mason’s lip is split, his eye already swelling. Shane’s knuckles are bleeding. His chest heaves as he pins Mason down.
“Stop!” I scream.
Shane’s head snaps toward me, his blue eyes wild. Blood trickles from his nose. “Reagan, baby, don’t—”
“Get off him!” I grab Shane’s arm to pull him back, but he’s as solid as a wall. My eyes roam the room, asking for help.
Prez is sitting at a table, flanked by two of his men. He shoots up and bangs the table with his fist, and I flinch. “Enough.” His voice is final and terrifying. “Both of you. On your feet.”
Shane releases Mason and stands slowly. Mason scrambles up and spits blood onto the floor.
“Is this true, Bloom?” Prez demands.
“No!” Mason blazes. “That’s bullshit! I never—”
“Stop fucking lying,” Shane growls. “She came to me, told me you messed with her. She didn’t know what to do or who to trust. She ain’t lying. Why the fuck would she?”
Mason’s wild eyes find mine. “Reagan, tell them. Tell them the truth. I never touched you. Never.”
The room spins. “What?” The word barely makes it past my lips. I can’t breathe. My mind goes blank. Shane is staring at me, his expression soft, pleading. The same look he gave me yesterday.Trust me, baby girl. I’ll fix it.
This is how he is fixing it.
“Tell them the fucking truth!” Mason shouts.
