Tacet a Mortuis (The Elite King's Club 3)

“Mads!” Someone was shoving me in the arm, my eyes slowly peeled opening to the bright sun. I raised my head up to see Tatum passing me a J. “It’s two P.M, you slept most of the day away. I thought about waking you but thought better of it. What’d you do this weekend to warrant such lengthy sleepy time?” She stood up and dived into the pool.

“Jesus, I don’t know, get absolutely wrecked by trying to save Bishop, and then ended up getting this.” I pointed to the tattoo that was over my ribs.

Tatum swiped the water off her face and started laughing. “Girl, you are owned.”

I shrugged. “His is bigger, and he has two.”

“He has two?” She quirked her eyebrow, pushing herself up and out of the pool.

I nodded and then chuckled. I thought I was wide awake before, but that has nothing on how I’m feeling right now. Tatum dipped behind the little Bahama hut bar we had tucked away at the side of the pool and grabbed out some bottles. “Your dad and Elena are gone, Nate is gone, it’s just us and these poor, innocent bottles of wine.”

I bit my lip. “Hand it over.”

She gasped. “No way, we’re at least going to be classy about this.”

“When are we ever classy?”

She paused, pondered over it for a few beats, and then nodded. “Good point, but, I do want to try my hand at some of these cocktails I saw on Pinterest.” Oh no, Tate and her Pinterest addiction.

“Fine.” I walked to the edge of the pool and dove into the cool water, pushing off the hard floor and coming out the surface. “Just make sure mine is strong!” She started dancing, and shaking, and then dancing more, and changing songs. Tatum moved at speeds that made my head spin. I dried off, straightening my tits in my bikini and headed back to her.

Sinking the first cocktail she had made, I moaned at the taste of silk sliding down my throat. “Damn, that was so delicious. What was it?”

“It was a milky way, be careful, that shit has enough liquor in it to put you on your ass.” She made another one, and then we went back to the lounge chairs, cranking the music higher.

“You know” —she waggled her eyebrows at me— “I think you should talk with him, maybe a little later.”

I shrugged. “I will, just not right now. Right now, I want to be a little angry at them.”

She lifted her glass. “I’ll drink to that.” Tate pulled out her phone, and she shuffled closer to me for a selfie. I pulled my tongue out and crossed my eyes, pulling a silly face as she pouted her lips. She uploaded with a grin on her face.

“What was your caption?”

Tate was famous for her captions. They were either extremely dry or over the top. There was no in between, but either way, they always managed to make people laugh. I wasn’t that active on Facebook or any social media. I had only just started using Snapchat, and even then, I almost always forgot to upload photos and videos.

“Beauty and the Beast have all the treats, with a little cocktail emoji.”

I cracked up, clutching my tummy. “You’re a dork.”

She shrugged. “Maybs, but you love me anyway.”

She was right, I did.

Around four cocktails later, we both began climbing up the stairs. We weren’t wasted, but you could definitely notice that we were under the influence. I think. No, I felt fabulous. Laughing about something Tatum had said, we stumbled into my bedroom. “I need something to wear. Something I know will drive Bishop crazy.”

“Girl, do you like seeing him mad? The man is lethal, I wouldn’t be poking the tiger.”

“Actually, I sort of do, but I am mad at him. I need… answers. I just need answers.”

She sighed. “I don’t blame you.” Pulling out some clothes she brought with her. After getting frustrated with my average closet, I turned in a huff, my eyes falling on the see-through mesh long sleeve dress she was holding.

“What is that?” I pointed to it. It was probably one of the most scandalous things I had ever seen, which meant I had found my outfit.

She threw it at me. “You’re to wear like, a tank or something underneath,” she mumbled, but I was diving into my closet, pulling out a little black lace bra. It had straps that lined over my breast skin and was all held together by lace and scandal. I wiggled on the spot with glee. Oh, this was perfect. Then I paused. What the actual fuck was I going to wear as pants. I couldn’t go in underwear, I didn’t want to get killed, so I took out tight little leather boy shorts from my top drawer.

“Are these yours?” I dangled them in front of her face.