Bane (Sinners of Saint 4)

The thing was, one of them owed it to me, anyway.

I watched as Pam threw her head back and laughed at something Bane had said, fluffing her bleached blonde hair and pushing down the fabric of her pink cocktail dress. She swirled a manicured bubblegum-pink finger around the rim of her wine glass and nodded at what he said as if he’d just shared the cure to cancer with her.

Bane was slouched on the chair in front of her, talking lowly and looking blissfully bored. I’d learned his facial expressions by now. There weren’t that many. When he was invested, his eyes glittered like he was high on something. On life. But right now he looked like he was on the verge of yawning.

Pam reached across the table and put her palm on his, pressing her free one to her heart. He withdrew his hand without as much as a blink, tucking it into his pocket.

It was a tango of push and pull for the next ten minutes.

She flipped her hair. He pressed a button on his cell phone to check the time. She giggled. He craned his neck and glanced over her shoulder, barking something at Gail and Beck. She squeezed her arms together to show her ample cleavage. He leaned down to pet a dog that sat under the seat of the customer next to him. I was partly relieved at Bane’s rejection of her advances and partly furious that she had pretended to care about me when actually, all she wanted was to sleep with the guy who’d tried to befriend me. Most of all, I felt unequipped to deal with all the sudden changes in my life. So much so that it took me a few seconds to register that they had gotten up from their seats. By the time I snapped back into reality, Pam was already heading toward the door. I leaped behind the café, hiding behind a concrete wall. They both stepped out, and I could hear them chatting.

The flick of the lighter as Bane lit himself a joint. The suggestive purr Pam unleashed after he did.

“Sharing is caring,” she drawled.

“Spare me the bullshit, Pamela. You’re one of the most capitalist people I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t share a pile of shit if you thought someone else truly needed it.”

“You don’t have to be so harsh.”

“You don’t have to be so desperate.”

Pause. My heart swelled, and I was pretty sure I meant it in the literal sense of the word. I felt it spreading inside me, almost too big to carry.

“So what are your intentions with my daughter?” Her voice thickened as she took a hit of his joint. Bane’s answer came after a calculated pause.

“It’s not her panties that I’m after.”

“Good. Because she’ll never sleep with you.”

My cheeks flamed. It wasn’t that she was wrong. It was that she chose to tell him the truth because the underlining message was, but I will.

“I don’t look at her that way.”

“Like what?”

“Like a cum-soaked hole. Besides, she’s too young for me,” he snapped. My jaw tensed. He was only five years older. We’d both be in our twenties in a few weeks. Another invisible ivy branch curled around my leg, rising higher, toward my knee. Why does it bother you?

“Well, as long as you know…” Pam trailed off.

“Nice meeting you, Pamela. I hope to see a lot of you while hanging out—not sleeping—with your daughter.” And that was it. I watched from my hidden spot as Pam climbed up the stairs from the beach to the promenade. I gave Bane a few more minutes to finish his joint and get back inside before I stepped out of hiding, only to find out that he was still standing there.

Peachy.

Making a direct move toward the stairs without allowing any eye contact, I heard him sigh melodramatically behind my back.

“Next time you miss me, just give me a call. Although stalking is definitely a preferred method if your goal is to stroke my ego.”

I froze mid-step, a blush heating my face in an instant. I was doing a lot of blushing lately. That was another thing the new Jesse didn’t approve of.

“I was just…” I looked around me, searching for…what, exactly? A comfortable slice of sand I could stick my head into?

“You were just…?” He cocked an eyebrow, walking toward me. Each time I met him, I was knocked off balance by his sheer maleness. And not in a good way. Even in my memories, in which Bane was carved handsomely, I still couldn’t fully capture his sharp bone structure and bright green eyes. “Let me guess—you were just in the neighborhood and decided to drop by and see if I’d hit on your mom?” He leaned his shoulder against the glass wall of his café, his hands shoved deep inside his pockets. I kicked a little stone, sending it to the other side of the road, my eyes hard on my Keds.