Page 99 of Fall For Me
The man must have a little side hustle if he’s offering us drugs. Maybe we should have him pull over and call for a different car.
“So, The Warehouse?” he asks.
“If that’s where she wants to go, sure.” I shrug, knowing this is probably the worst idea in the history of forever.
The driver drops us off in front of The Warehouse a few blocks over. The bass is so strong it vibrates the soles of my shoes through the sidewalk. A line wraps around the corner of the building, and I follow it, parking Granny’s wheelchair at the end.
“Ever seen anythin’ like that before?” She points at some people in front of us wearing fishnet tank tops with neon bras underneath. Glowsticks light up their faces as they all laugh at something someone in the group says. “They look like a pack of horny highlighters.”
“Jesus, Granny.” I giggle, gripping the handles of her wheelchair and leaning over to speak in her ear. “You can’t say shit like that out loud.”
“Why not? I’m old. I can say whatever the hell I want.” She cranes her neck and calls out, “Hey, boy. Yeah, you with the shorty shorts.”
What the hell is she doing? Oh. My. God. Why the fuck did I agree to this?
“Ya lookin’ to get yer ass spanked?”
“Granny! Stop!” I hiss, glancing around to see who heard her.
Apparently, every single person standing in line, because all sets of eyes are now on us.
“What? His ass is hangin’ out.”
The guy, with his shorts cut high above his muscled-up ass cheeks, prances over and turns around, bending at the waist. I want to close my eyes in pure humiliation, but I can’t look away as he twerks in her face. Granny rears back her hand, landing a hard smack to his ass.
“Yow!” He yells, then turns around, giving her a high five. “You, ma’am, are an icon.”
“Damn straight. Now, where can I find that sweet girl Molly?”
I drag my hands down my face and rethink my life. What the hell am I gonna do with her?
“She’s kidding . . .” I tell him, then lean back over her chair to talk to her. “Molly is a drug, not a girl.”
“Oh. Even better. I survived the 60s, 70s, and 80s.”
“Yeah? Well, that was probably pot. You won’t survive another couple of hours if you take Molly.”
I’m about two seconds from ordering an Uber to drive us home, but the line moves, and we’re almost inside. God, if Sean and Aiden knew we were here, they would kick my ass. I round her wheelchair and grip the armrests. “Listen to me. We’re gonna go in, bang on a few drums, then go home. You are not to take a drink from anyone, and no Molly . . . or weed.”
“Ya know what yer problem is? Ya need to lighten’ up a little. Do somethin’ wild and crazy.”
“I’ve done wild and crazy. Ask Sean.”
“But ya don’t do shit for yourself without worrying about upsetting other people.”
“It’s called consequences, Granny.”
We’re almost to the door when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. My eyes widen. I don't even have to look to know exactly who it is. I pull the phone out and stare down at the screen.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Sean’s calling,” I say, declining the call. “He’s gonna make us leave if I answer.”
My phone vibrates again, in my hand this time. I should probably answer it, but I’m scared to upset Sean. I’ll FaceTime him when we get inside . . . after we bang on some drums. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? That possessive asshole would probably charter a helicopter and land it in the street, then drag our asses out. Instead of sending the call straight to voicemail, I let it continue to vibrate and take in my surroundings. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Everyone around us is dressed in neon colors and scantily clad outfits. How are they not cold? I pull my denim jacket tighter around me to ward off the chill.
“Hi, Hot Stuff . . .”
My blood runs cold at the nickname.
