Birthday Girl

Dutch.

“Hey,” I answer, tossing the bottle into the garbage.

“Hey. You should come to Grounders right now.”

Huh?

“Like right now,” he adds before I have a chance to say anything.

“Why?”

“Because…” he pauses, and I hear a breathy little laugh. “Jordan is, um…misbehaving, I guess you could say.”

I straighten, my brows pinching together. “Misbehaving?” I repeat. “What does that mean? And why do you think I care. I’m not her dad.”

Music pounds in the background, and I can hear a crowd talking and laughing. One of my guys is getting married in a couple weeks, so the crew took him out tonight. We need at least one person not hungover tomorrow, so I stayed home.

“If you say so, man,” he retorts like he doesn’t believe I don’t care. “But your son may not like what I’m seeing right now. What everyone is getting to see right now.”

“What are you talking about?” I challenge.

“You’re going to have to come to find out. I just hope you don’t get here too late.”

There’s a click, and I think he hung up.

“Dutch,” I bark into the phone. “Dutch!”

I expel a sigh and pull the phone away from my ear, slamming the trash can lid closed.

But I stop, doing a double take at something laying on top. Lifting the lid again, I pull out a pink half sheet, the pin-up girl on the flyer catching my attention. Studying it, I let the lid fall closed and read it.

Amateur Night!

Get Wet! (Your T-shirt, anyway)

May 27 at 9 p.m.

The Hook on Jamison Lane

Grand Prize $300!!

I straighten my spine, taking note of the date and then relax a little. It’s still a couple weeks away, so Dutch wouldn’t mean this. It’s not happening tonight, and it’s not at Grounders.

It’s probably Cole’s flyer, anyway.

But on reflex, I flip it over and see handwriting on the back.

Make that $, girl!!

I quirk an eyebrow.

Is this Jordan’s? It’s from The Hook. Did her sister give this to her? Jesus, what is wrong with that girl? Who would encourage their little sister to enter a wet T-shirt contest, for Christ’s sake?

Again, though, it’s not tonight, and she threw it away, so that’s a good thing.

But now I’m anxious.

I like the kid. I don’t want her to feel like she needs to do shit like this to make money. I’m not rushing either of them out of my house, am I?