“You want something to drink, baby?” And again, there goes my heart fluttering.
Blade glances over at me, then goes back to talking.
I nod. “I can get it if you need to talk to them.” I look over at the bar area. Tons of bikers are hanging around two large kegs and a table loaded with bottles of liquor.
Ryder glances around like he’s scanning all the faces, which makes me look again. “That should be fine. Bring me a bottle of Jack.” His eyes remain locked on the area as he speaks.
“The whole bottle?” I cock my head at him, and he grins.
“Hurry, I don’t want you wandering around.” Turning, I can’t help but smile. Why on earth was I so negative about coming down here? Everyone is smiling and drinking. If you can overlook the lack of clothes on the women, this party looks fun.
“Hey, beautiful.” I turn to see a smiling Doug. He’s holding two drinks and has a bottle of something under his arm.
“You okay? You look lost.” He looks me up and down.
“Well.” I clear my throat. “Do I just grab stuff? Or is this a line?” I motion to the twenty or so people in front of me.
“Oh, fuck no. You need to get aggressive and push your way through. Here, I’ll help. They all hate me anyway.” He snickers and elbows people out of the way.
“Doug.” I laugh at the glares he’s getting, but he gets me to the table. I grab a bottle of Jack and try to decide what I want to drink.
“It all tastes like shit. We didn’t have time to plan. I’d avoid the punch though. God only knows what they spiked it with,” he yells over the loud laughter.
As I’m pushed forward, I reach out to stop myself from crashing into the table.
“What are you drinking?” I look at his two plastic cups.
“The punch, but I’m hoping to get fucked up.” He laughs as I join him.
There’s something truly great about Doug. He knows who he is and he owns it.
“Punch it is.” I grab the ladle, slightly horrified when a biker goes ahead and dips his plastic cup in. Hoping he used a new cup, I try to focus on my own scooping, then follow Doug’s black shirt in the mass of dark shirts, my bottle of Jack in my other hand.
“I love the dress. You look gorgeous. A lone gem in a pile of rocks.”
He smirks when I take a sip and immediately choke.
“Jesus, you’re right,” I shout at his back.
“I know.” He looks back at me and I can’t help but laugh again.
“I meant the punch, Doug.”
He smiles and turns. “You need to come and say hello to the new momma.”
“I have to take this to Ryder.” Holding up the bottle of Jack, I peer over Doug’s shoulder at the pool area. All I see is Dolly talking to some thin blond woman in a fluorescent-pink bikini.
“Stake your claim, Julianna.” When I blink up at him, his dark eyes look serious. He turns before I can respond.
“Wait. It’s probably better if I stay in the shadows,” I call out to his retreating form.
He turns again. “No,” he says. “They”—he motions to the pool area with his head—“need to know what you’re made of. That is, if you want him. If you’re only here to have Ryder get you off, then by all means, stay in the shadows.” He shrugs and turns, on the move again.
“Jesus,” I mumble. “Fine, I’ll say congratulations.”
When we approach the pool area, Eve is laughing with Antoinette, both in cute summer dresses, and I almost sigh in relief. Antoinette is Gia’s sister-in-law, so she has to be nice to me, right?
“Look who I found,” Doug announces as Charlie, who was blocked by Dolly’s tummy, sits up to look at me.
“Oh. Julianna?” Charlie looks completely uncomfortable. “Hi, is Gia here?” She looks around as I bite my lower lip, feeling like all eyes are on me, probably because they are.
“Um, no, she’s in Amsterdam. I wanted to say congratulations. I’m so happy for you and Dav… Poet.” My cheeks are on fire, but I smile and glance at Eve, who looks at me like I’m an alien.
“Julianna, you look so beautiful. I love your hair.” I turn to Antoinette, who looks worried but hugs me, and I hesitate to let go of her.
“Thank you.” I smile at her. “Dolly and Doug did it.” I motion at them.
Dolly looks a bit like Eve—confused—and I wonder if I have something on my face.
Thank God for Eminem and Dr. Dre. Otherwise, this uncomfortable vibe would be beyond humiliating. At least I can drink my punch, though I’m so distracted, I can barely taste how bad it supposedly is, or figure out what they’ve put into it.
“You can’t be serious.” The skinny blonde with huge boobs, which are barely held up by her fluorescent-pink bikini, walks toward me.