“You freaking slut,” I say, still half in disbelief. She so hasn’t partied with the club. She can’t have. She’s still in high school. That’s so... wrong. She’s my age. Ugh.
“Stop being such a prude. How is it possible that you’re Bloody Knuckles’s daughter and yet you’re so sheltered? Your dad is a legend among the Lost Girls.”
“That’s gross.” I slap at her knee. “And I’m not a fucking prude. But come on! That would be like me hooking up with one of them.”
“Not really,” Tracie says. “You’re being a baby.”
“Who have you hooked up with?” If she says she hooked up with my dad, I’m going to push her fucking ass down the stairs and call it an accident. I know my dad better than that, but until I have verbal confirmation, I’m keeping my options for retribution open. Like sisters or no, you don’t hook up with your best friend’s dad. Ever.
“Diesel,” she says quietly. I cast a glance long enough to find that she’s staring at me nervously. I’ve always liked Diesel. He’s fun to be around, got some pretty awesome muscles, killer tatts, and his video game knowledge is out of this world. I squeal and grin, slapping at her legs like a crazy woman, demanding that she tell me everything. I can totally handle her sleeping with Diesel. As long as she keeps her hands off anyone I call “uncle,” I think I can live with this.
“It was... hot,” she says in a breathy tone. “I mean, I thought high school boys knew what they were doing—but I only hooked up with two guys at school before I started hanging with the club.”
“Is he the only one you’ve hooked up with?” I ask.
“No,” she says and lets out a breath. “I hooked up with Aaron before…” Her voice trails off, and we stay silent for a long moment. She can’t bring herself to say it, but what she means is before Aaron died protecting Holly and Mindy. Before some sick bastard shot him in the back of the head. Before everything went to shit.
“Did you like him?” I ask, because if she did, I should probably offer some kind of condolences. I can’t say I’ve made peace with what happened to him, because we were friends. He was funny and kind and was completely devoted to the club. But I cried my ass off at his funeral, and I promised Uncle Jim that I wouldn’t waste any more tears on the dead. Aaron wouldn’t want it, he said. So I try not to do something that Aaron wouldn’t like. Instead, I’m dedicating myself to finding out what happened to him. It’s too late to fix that crap for Aaron, but there’s still time to fix it for Holly and Mindy.
And by fix it, I mean once I find out who did it, I’m turning the evidence over to the club so Dad can kill them. Because he would, and they’d deserve however he makes them suffer.
“Okay, and I’m afraid to ask, but how exactly did you end up partying with Forsaken?”
“It was one of those days when Diesel was here. You were off somewhere with Holly when I caught him looking at me. We flirted. He invited me to a party. I went and we hooked up.”
“You make having sex sound so simple and easy,” I say in disbelief. “I never get a freaking moment alone with a guy because my dad is a helicopter, always hovering. Even the few times I have managed to get a base or two in, I barely know what I’m doing.”
“That’s because you’re hung up on this idea of being in a relationship. That’s the difference between us, Chey. You’re Holly and I’m Elle,” she says, referring to my dad’s on-again-off-again hookups with Elle. While I don’t care for her using my dad’s relationships as an example, because that’s just awkward, I know what she means.
“Why do you think Elle doesn’t want a relationship?” I ask. Then I correct my question to what I actually mean. “Are you saying you want to be a club whore?”
“Some women are built for relationships, and some of us just want to have fun. If it’s right, it’ll happen, like with Duke and Nic.”
My heart rate speeds up in fear that we’re about to get into a fight. I hate fighting with Tracie, and it’s been happening more and more lately.
“Do you know how many women show up at the clubhouse thinking they’re going to whore their way to being some guy’s old lady?” My voice is soft. My heart hurts for her if she thinks whore to housewife is an easy road.
“I didn’t say I want to be someone’s old lady.” Her tone is defensive. “I just said if it’s right, it’ll happen.”
“Okay. I just hope you know what you’re doing,” I say.
“I do, and speaking of knowing who I’m doing... we better get ready if we’re going to crash this party. If we get there too late, all the hot guys will be taken for the night.”
I don’t say a word as we stand from the stairs and head for my room, which we ransack in search of the right outfits in order to blend in. I waffle on how sexy I should be. If I’m wearing too little, I might be more visible. But then if I’m dressed like a nun, I’ll stand out. By the time we’re ready, it’s nearing in on midnight, and if we don’t hurry, we’re going to miss the countdown.
Do they even do a midnight countdown at these things?