Wyatt became nauseous. He normally did fine on planes, but this conversation would have made his stomach flip even if they were on solid ground. He considered reaching for a bag just in case all that champagne decided to fight back.
“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Wyatt said, absolutely positive the words did nothing to heal her pain, but at least they were something.
“It’s okay. I’ll make things even for my Vero. She deserves at least that.”
That had taken a turn. Wyatt wasn’t sure how to steer the conversation back to less rocky terrain.
“What was she like?” he asked, deciding to focus on the positives.
“One of the funniest people I knew,” Mustang said, the dark shadow across her face lifting, brightened by her honey-brown eyes, a small birthmark next to her eyebrow popping off her tan skin. “She had a comeback for anything. And she loved cars, too. Loved to come to my races, cheer me on. She was such a positive presence in my life, it was—it was difficult when she was gone.” Mustang sucked in a deep breath, looking over her shoulder, fondness in her gaze as her eyes landed on a napping Mimic. “I was saved, though. A month after Vero’s death, when I thought I was going to just drive off a bridge and end it all, that’s when I met Roman and Mimic. It was at a dive bar. They were there drinking after finishing a job, and I was there drinking to become as numb as possible. When I found out they were working against the Pride, well, it was like a sign from up above. I joined up with Roman and didn’t look back. Falling in love with Mimic was a nice bonus.” Mustang wore a genuine smile, one that must have taken so much strength to pull off. After witnessing the horrors she had, Wyatt wouldn’t have blamed her if she never smiled again.
“You and Mimic make such a great couple,” Doc said. “It’s like you were each made for each other. It’s obvious when you two look at each other.”
Wyatt nodded, agreeing with Doc’s assessment. “There’s a lot of intermingling in this crew, huh?”
“It’s like showing up to the bar after a softball game,” Mustang said. “Everyone’s either seen, licked, touched, or fucked someone else in that bar. The Queer Degrees of Separation, I like to call it. As long as things don’t get complicated between anyone, then we’re good.”
Doc sucked her tongue. She reached down and grabbed her book. “But don’t things always manage to get complicated, somehow or another?”
“Maybe in the books you read, but sometimes I like to think life can smooth itself out. If I’m scared of turning every corner or constantly worried about when something gets fucked up, then I’d be missing out on so much.” Mustang grabbed her beer and raised it in an invisible cheer. “To winning two hundred dollars and getting laid later.”
Wyatt lifted his glass with a laugh and clinked it against Mustang’s. Doc smirked but lifted her book and kept her face buried inside it.
That appeared to be Mustang’s cue to stand and walk over to a sleeping Mimic, stepping over her with care and sitting down in the chair next to her, maneuvering Mimic so that she could rest her head on Mustang’s shoulder.
Wyatt scanned the plane, spotting Roman toward the back having a conversation with Bang Bang and Phantom. It didn’t seem to be an important one, judging by Bang Bang’s boisterous laughter, so Wyatt decided to interrupt them. He stood, but instead of walking toward them, he turned and headed toward the front of the plane.
He brought out his phone and sent Roman a text with a single word:
Bathroom?
Chapter 24
Roman Ashford
The flight back home felt like a victory lap for Roman. He was well aware that they still had one more hurdle to jump before they crossed the finish line, but that didn’t dim anyone’s celebratory light. The crew was flying as high as the plane was, and Roman couldn’t have been prouder. They certainly earned the five bottles of champagne that were all mostly empty already.
“Maybe my next tattoo will be one of your face, broki. If you get us as much money as you say you will, then I think you’d deserve it.”
Roman scoffed. “Where would you get it, on your other arm?”
Bang Bang, wearing a white tank top, turned to show off the colorful tattoo that took up most of his right bicep. The gay pin-up guy seemed to be winking at Roman.
“I think I’ll put you on a leg instead. I don’t want anything competing with Tito.” He patted his arm lovingly and gave the tattoo a kiss.
“Which leg?” Roman asked.
“My third leg, obviously.”
Roman rolled his eyes and laughed along with Bang Bang. “You’ll need to pick a tattoo artist that knows how to work with small designs, then.”