“Fine,” he concedes. “Connor will be here for the delivery.” I nod in agreement. “But. You will be here otherwise. It’s time for you to grow up and stop running around with your little groupies.”
“Groupies?” I snort. “I trust my ‘groupies’ a hell of a lot more than I trust you, old man.”
A smile slowly grows on his aging face. “I see.”
Tensing my jaw, I realize I just showed him a weakness in me that I shouldn’t have. At least not yet.
I told Dez I wanted to be there to watch Ruby’s audition—on my own. I could see the hurt on his face before he tried to school his features and let on like it was no big deal.
I’m not a fool. I get that they became close—maybe even best friends. But I refuse to think it ever turned into more than that, even though I can see how deep they trust and care about each other.
I sneak inside and stand in a shadowed corner as I watch Ruby walk to the middle of the stage. Seeing her like this—make-up free, hair in a tight bun on top of her head, black leotard, pale-pink tights with a flowy blue skirt tied around her slim waist, ballet shoes on her feet with ribbons tied around her ankles—she looks younger.
She’s confident as she takes her position, head held high, arms at her sides. Classical music begins to play, and her arms move, looking as if they’re floating through the air. Stepping onto her toes, she dances across the stage, commanding her presence be seen. She jumps and leaps and spins so much it almost makes me dizzy watching her.
But not her. No, she’s grace and beauty and elegance, and I can’t take my eyes off of her. I’m entranced watching her dance, her body her tool and the stage her canvas as she paints the music filling the air around us.
“Thank you, Miss King. You will receive a letter within the month notifying you of whether you’re accepted or not. Best of luck to you,” one of the five judges inform her as the music stops and she gives a curtsy.
“Thank you,” Ruby says to them before making her way off stage. I can’t help the smile twitching on my lips knowing that she probably wanted to say a whole lot more but bit her tongue so she wouldn’t say anything to jeopardize her audition.
Quietly, I exit the auditorium and make my way to where she’ll leave. It doesn’t take long before the door is thrown open in anger.
“Why are you mad, Tink?” I question her as she storms out.
She whips around, piercing me with daggers in her blue eyes full of surprise. “I gave them everything, and they just dismissed me.”
Pushing off the wall, I walk to her, cupping her cheek. “You were beautiful.”
“Well, I don’t think they thought that,” she says with an eye roll.
“Stop,” I command harshly, making her eyes look to mine. “They probably have to say the same cookie-cutter thing to everyone who auditions. Where did the confident girl who stepped out on the stage go? She was beautiful and danced with her heart, knowing she deserved a spot.”
“Guess she left with a bow,” she deadpans, making me smile.
Leaning forward, I kiss her forehead with a chuckle. “Come on, let me take you for ice cream.”
“Seriously?” she questions with a lifted brow. “Sonny, you don’t have to keep feeding me ice cream. I’m not the same kid who needs ice cream to soothe her wounds anymore.”
“Who said it was for you? I missed good ice cream. Fuck, I missed flavor of any food.”
“Let’s go somewhere new.”
With a hand out, I gesture for her to lead the way. She walks out with more bounce in her step than the stomp she had earlier.
I follow her to my car, where she gives me directions to a place that wasn’t there before. One of many now. Vegas has changed in lots of ways, but there are also the good old usual places around too.
When we arrive, she gives me a mischievous smile as we exit the car. Taking my hand, she leads me inside, where there is a wall of soft-serve machines spinning. Along one wall is a huge counter filled with what looks like every fruit, candy, and topping you could ever imagine to put on your ice cream.
Handing me a cup, she explains that you can pick and add as much or as little of anything you want to the cup. I watch her first as she taste tests a few flavors before settling on a mixture of cheesecake and coffee. Feeling like a little kid, I want every flavor just because I can but finally decide on strawberry and chocolate, which Ruby scrunches her nose at, calling me boring.
She tops her ice cream carefully with almonds, a few miniature caramels, and dollop of hot fudge. I, again, want everything. I add a little candy, a little chocolate, nuts, fruit, hot fudge, caramel and of course can’t forget the whip cream.
“You are so going to regret that,” she laughs at me as I pay the cashier.
We take a seat at one of the tables outside, and I can’t wait to dig in. I moan around each bite, one after the other, enjoying each and every taste. Tossing my crumpled-up napkin and spoon into my empty cup, I smile at her. “Boom!”
Slowly removing her spoon from her mouth, her eyes are big as she looks at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone enjoy ice cream as much as you did just then.”
“Guess it’s what happens when all you get are those shitty little cups of vanilla once a month.”
Her eyes go from my empty cup to her half full one before she tilts it my way. “You want the rest of mine?”
I know I’ll pay for this later with an upset stomach, but right now it’s worth it. “Maybe just a taste,” I accept, leaning forward. Careful to get a bite with a little of everything, she puts the spoon to my lips, and my eyes go wide. “Oh, shit, that’s good.”
“Right?” She smiles. “I’ve mastered the art of making the perfect cup. At first, everyone is like you; they want everything. But it’s so much better if you pair everything to complement each other perfectly.” She takes another bite with a satisfied smile. “And it’s definitely better than a plain vanilla cup.”
Once she finishes and we’re back in the car, she looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start as she fidgets with the strap of her bag. I cover her hand with mine to pause her anxious fidgeting. “What’s bothering you?”
Pinching her lips between her teeth, she turns those dimples and blues my way. “My birthday is next week.”
“Yeah,” I say cautiously. “I know.”
“I’m going to be eighteen.” I nod slowly, already knowing this. “I told my mom I didn’t want a party.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
My heartrate picks up from that single word. “Tink…” I start but can’t manage anything more. She deserves so much more—better—than me. But I can’t help my selfish heart and hard dick that want her.
Her head drops, and her face pulls in concentration. “You and Dez are the only ones I really want to celebrate with.” Picking her head up, she looks at me. “Will you celebrate my adulthood with me?” she asks with a devious smile. The nervous girl from a minute before, gone.
“If that’s what you want.” Truth is, I’d give her the moon if that’s what she asked for.