The Slam (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

ENDER

Adelaide playing the part of Daenerys Targaryen?

Fuck me
. This college workshop production had a direct line to my brain.

Not only was Adelaide good with swords, she was sexy, fierce, and stunning.

The platinum-blonde wig with the long waves and all of the braids…

The sleek warrior princess costume with the bare back and plunging neckline…

My cock stirred.
She can be the mother of my dragons.

And the girl could act. Adelaide was a revelation from the opening scene.

She was poised and unfazed in the most intense parts, and there was a measure in her performance that balanced cold, almost malevolent detachment with an underlying innocence that made her performance completely disarming.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

The entire time, I sat stunned and captivated.

Adelaide was an even more powerful force in the third act, and there was a reverential quiet to the room, respectful and spellbound.

When the lights came up for the curtain calls, the crowd roared their approval. Beside me, Miguel let out a long piercing wolf whistle, and Piper was clapping, cheering and hopping up and down, unable to contain herself.

“That’s my girl!” I shouted across the room as Adelaide took a bow. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

She caught and held my gaze and smiled, a smile meant for me alone. Then she mouthed the words
thank you
, like a confidence whispered in a crowded room.

Later, we all gathered at Dragon’s Lair, an ultra-divey karaoke bar that served up your typical menu of booze, greasy bar food, and sake bombs.

“Sake, sake, sake BOMB!” Miguel banged his fist on the table and his shot glass fell through the chopsticks, dropping into his beer with a splash. Then he knocked back the whole thing, slammed his glass down on the table, and pointed at Adelaide. “That was for you, my warrior princess. I know you’re a theater major, but
dayum gurrl!
I had no idea you had such
maj
acting chops! You’re an actress capable of mystique and diamond-hard conviction—all within a single scene! You put off such Meryl vibes! You oozed stardom out of every pore! You were flawless with every gesture, every nuance, every nano-moment. Astonishing! Simply astonishing! Meryl Streep, you better watch out! Girl, I am here for anything you do, ever!”

“I’ll drink to that, bitches!” Piper raised her glass and everyone did another round of shots.

As I knocked back my scotch, I noticed that Adelaide couldn’t quite hold her liquor.

She wasn’t exactly plied with alcohol, but she was clearly tipsy and slurring her words.

“
Shthank
s, guys!” she breathed, all flushed cheeks and blurry eyes. “You’re
shhho shweet
.
Hic hic hic.
” Hiccupping nonstop, she covered her lips with her hands.

Several drinks later, Adelaide was no longer making any sense.

She began mumbling somewhat incoherently to no one in particular. “Don’t you think Ender is glowing like an otherworldly angel hunk?” Wonder filled her voice. “Do you think that girl over there is going to rub her crotch on Ender?” she slurred. “This is why I’m sitting on his lap… I’m covering his crotch with my crotch to protect him.”

“Ohhhh,” Piper said indulgently. “Is that why?”

“
Yessshhh
,” Adelaide slurred. “That is why.”

Abruptly, the microphone on the shoddy, rinky-dink stage shrieked to life and Adelaide leapt to her feet. “I’m gonna ask them to play my jam!”

A smile edged up one corner of my mouth. Adelaide was starting to sound a lot like Piper and Miguel, and it turned out her jam was Kendrick Lamar’s
Backstreet Freestyle
.

What surprised me even more was that she knew every single word. Without bothering to glance at the lyrics scrolling across the monitor, she unleashed her underground rapping skills on us. Then she finished the rap with a hard-hitting beat and dropped the mic on stage before staggering back to our table.

I laughed but there was respect in my gaze as I stared at her. “How did you know all the words?”

“Easy,” she said, sitting on my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. “I printed it out and memorized it line by line.”

“So…” Miguel said with a coy inflection in his voice. “Are you two officially a ‘thing’ now?”

I didn’t reply right away, and Adelaide answered for me. “Ender is just my side bitch,” she slurred, sifting her fingers through my hair like I was her plaything. “I’ve been so horny lately and Ender’s been satisfying me with his big dick.”

Miguel roared with laughter. “I love you just the way you are, Adelaide. But I think I love drunk Adelaide even better.”

“Try fucking her.” A gruff voice unfurled from the corner. “It felt like freakin’ necrophilia when I fucked her! Like fucking a dead body.”

Rage roiled inside me and I whipped my head around. Cade was sitting at the bar, craning his neck and fixing his liquor-glazed eyes on me. “Isn’t that right, Ender?” He smirked. “You’re tappin’ that, you would know.”

“Why is he saying such mean things?” Adelaide slurred against my neck. “He’s messing with my vibe. Stop killing my vibe!”

Carefully, I caught her waist and slid her off my lap. Once she was safely deposited next to Piper, I bolted across the room with an explosive force and lunged at Cade. I heard the crunch of bones as my fist connected with his face.

“The fuck!” Cade howled, staring at me with blood dripping down his nose.

Blinding rage tore through me as I grabbed him by the shirt. “Listen to me, you assfuck.” My voice distilled to a rough whisper. “If you
ever
disrespect her again, I will shove two hundred thermometer sticks up your ass and no amount of coconut oil will get ’em out. You hear me?”

I waited until he nodded before relaxing my iron grip and shoving him aside.

“Yo, Cade!” Miguel yelled across the bar. “Go fucking fist yourself!”

“Yeah!” Piper glared at him. “Talk shit about my friend again and I’ll slap you with my weave!”

When I stormed back to our table, Adelaide jumped into my arms, straddled me, and kissed me fully on the lips. “My hero,” she slurred. Even as I sat down, she continued straddling me and showering me with kisses.

Miguel had a full glass of scotch waiting for me at the table. “Let’s do another round of shots,” he bellowed. “To Ender.” He raised his glass in the air. “Adelaide’s side bitch and the defender of her name, integrity, and honor.”

Piper raised her glass, laughing gleefully. “To Christmas vacay, y’all. It’s in one week, bitches!”

We knocked back our drinks and slammed our glasses on the table.

Adelaide framed my face in her hands and fixed her blurry-eyed gaze on me. Then she pursed her lips, pouting profusely. “But I don’t have anywhere to go on Christmas break.” Her voice teetered toward a whine.

“Of course you do.” I smoothed a stray hair from her brow and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “You’re coming home with me.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

ADELAIDE

Ender’s home wasn’t a house. It wasn’t a mansion. It was a sprawling twenty-acre estate. Set behind a gated driveway, the main house (yes, there was more than one house!) spanned three floors with walls of glass, steel-beam accents, twelve bedrooms, ten bathrooms, a billiards room, a ‘panic’ room, a wine cellar, a media room, a professional screening room, a full gym, and two elevators. A three-green golf course with sand traps, a lighted tennis court, an infinity pool, and spa made up the sprawling hilltop grounds.

“Darling,” Bianca trilled as I skipped down the steel-enclosed staircase.

I smiled at Ender’s step-mom. We offered each other our cheekbones and hugged without any bodily contact.

After spending almost a week here I had learned and perfected Bianca’s greeting.

“I was just helping Molly and McKenzie get ready,” I told her.

“You don’t have to help them.” She smiled thinly. “They’ve got their nannies. Now what about you?” she asked, giving my outfit a cursory glance. “Aren’t you going to get ready?” she said haughtily.

“Oh, I’m ready!” I beamed. I took extra care dressing for the occasion. It was their family’s annual Christmas dinner at Totoraku Hibachi Grill, and I wanted to look my best. Sadly, my Forever 21 dress had fallen apart after several washes, which meant T-shirts and jeans were my only options. So I picked out my dressiest jeans (black) and my dressiest T-shirt (also black). I figured I couldn’t go wrong with black.

Bianca gave my outfit another once-over. “Ah, I see what you’re going for,” she said airily. “The homeless trend is so
en vogue
at the moment. So…
je ne sais quoi
. You know, I did go to Kanye West’s fashion show in New York and his Salvation Army-inspired clothing line simply moved me. Kanye’s such a visionary and I respect his art. I respect the hustle, I respect the struggle, I respect the dream, I respect the movement,” she said with conviction.

What on God’s green earth is Bianca going on about?

“Heavens,” she gasped, staring open-mouthed at my shoes. “Are those the Yeezy Boost 750? They’re sold out everywhere! How did you manage to snag a pair?”

I was about to inform Bianca that these were just a pair of my old, scuffed up Converse shoes, when Ender and his dad appeared.

“Fredrick, dah-ling.” Bianca kissed her husband like he was a friend’s baby with a runny nose. It was bizarre, really. “We have to leave in fifteen minutes,” she said reproachfully. “Why are you still in your golf clothes?” She speared him with a look, her expression so mutinous it gave me the chills. “Go upstairs and change this minute!”

Gosh. Bianca was particularly vicious and frightful!

Ender’s dad skulked off and Bianca trailed after him, berating him nonstop.

Meanwhile, Ender shoved his hands in his pockets, staring after his parents. “Excruciating to watch a grown man’s testicles shaken and tossed around like dice, isn’t it?”

I was appalled. “Has Bianca always treated your dad this way?”

“Pretty much. And they’ve only been married a year. She’s wife number seven, so she probably won’t last too long.”

“But what about Molly and McKenzie?” I implored. “It will utterly crush them if your parents split up.”

“Yeah,” he said calmly. “I feel sorry for the twins. But they have their other dad.”

“You mean they’re not Fredrick’s kids?”

“No. They’re from Bianca’s third marriage to some billionaire Texas tycoon.” He laughed—a harsh, humorless sound. “Both Bianca and my dad have done their part to keep the country’s divorce rate at fifty percent.”

I worried my lower lip between my teeth. “You really think your parents will split up?”

“Yeah,” Ender said with a remote expression on his face. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My dad’s never around. And Bianca resents that so she lashes out at him whenever she can. She probably won’t stick around much longer.” He shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t blame her.”

My heart ached for Molly and McKenzie. Though I’d only spent a week with them, those precious little girls had stolen my heart. “That’s so sad,” I said woefully. “And there’s little Sawyer, and he’s only two.”

“Sawyer’s from Bianca’s fourth marriage.” Ender let out a heavy sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel sorry for the kids. But don’t feel sorry for my dad. He’s not exactly Father of the Year.”

“You guys talking about Dad?” Edric sauntered into the large atrium, his shoes squeaking loudly on the polished marble floor. “Or are you talking about Bianca, a.k.a. The
Real
Housewife of Beverly Hills?”

“Both,” Ender said in a toneless voice.

“Adelaide.” Edric draped a casual arm around my shoulder. “Bianca hasn’t given you shit about what you’re wearing, has she?”

“Actually,” I said, pleased as punch. “Bianca is enamored with my outfit choice and shoes. She says it’s all very
je ne sais quoi
.” I spoke with a note of
hauteur
in my voice, complete with all the proper inflections. It was imbued with an air of Pepé Le Pew-ness. “And she seems to think they’re designed by Kanye and this Yeezy person.”

Edric let out a full-throated roar of laughter. “You have to understand, Bianca’s a former pageant queen from Iowa. Time and time again, she just proves that beauty fades but dumb is forever.”

“I don’t think she’s dumb.”

“She’s dumb,” Edric deadpanned. “Bianca’s a Kardashian without the ass.”

“Hey!” Ender jerked his chin at his brother. “Let’s get outta here before Bianca gives us shit about what we’re wearing. We can just meet them at the restaurant.” With little to no warning, Ender tossed the keys in the air and I caught it one-handed. “Adelaide,” he said, “You’re driving.”

“You’re letting me drive your car?”

“You wish.” Ender skewed me a glance that was both charming and cheeky. “You’re driving my dad’s Ferrari.”

Totoraku Hibachi Grill was booming and bustling with lively activity. I squeezed myself into the crowded restaurant, bumping elbows with patrons waiting to be seated. Waiters were yelling out orders just to be heard above the clanging dishes and boisterous laughter and chatter around them.

Some patrons crowded the bar, noshing on sushi rolls and tempura vegetables while they waited for their tables, which were obviously still occupied.

But not us. We didn’t have to wait.

“Bianca reserved us a private room,” Ender informed me. As our hostess led us to our very own exclusive room, I snuck away and made a beeline for the loo.

When I emerged minutes later, I found myself lost in the utter chaos. Servers were scurrying from the kitchen pass-through to the tables, balancing overloaded trays and swiveling their hips to navigate the precariously flying elbows filling the air at waist level. Hibachi chefs were putting on an entertaining show for their diners who had front-row seats as their meal was prepared.

Culinary showmanship was front and center. However, the flames and utensil smacking proved frightening to a little girl who tried to vacate the premises, only to be pulled back by her fast-moving mother.

I smiled. Molly and McKenzie weren’t afraid; they were actually looking forward to all the tricks and theatrics. All day long they had regaled me with stories of their favorite fun-loving Hibachi chef who cracked jokes, made volcanoes and choo-choo trains out of sizzling onions, and squirted sauce out of a plastic wee-wee man’s penis.

Right. I got sidetracked.
Where is our private room?

I surveyed the area, looking for the hostess. Alas, I sighed and gave up. She was nowhere to be found!

Feeling slightly frazzled, I picked my way through the chaotic mess of tables and patrons, tailing a server who was scurrying back to the kitchen.

A tall, elegant lady dressed in a kimono approached me. “Can I help you?” she asked politely.

“Yes,” I said. “You can. I’m looking for a private room. I’m supposed to be—”

“Oh, thank God you’re here!” The woman sagged with relief and tossed an apron at me. “When Benny called in sick, I panicked! We have highly important guests in that room, but Benny totally vouched for you so I know you won’t let us down.”

“But—”

“The private room is at the end of the second hallway, use the sliding door on your left. The cart is in the room already waiting for you. Grab a chef hat on the way out. Now GO, GO, GO!” She shooed me away. “Don’t forget, they’re VIP guests so put on your best show!”

“But I’m not—” I found myself being swept up by the undulating crowd of waiters and servers pushing past me.

“Excuse me! Coming through!” they yelled impatiently like I was some sort of bothersome gnat.

Rude.
And why did that Kimono-lady think I’m a Hibachi chef?

I found myself staring at one of the chefs who’d stopped to throw a pad of rice behind his back, catching it neatly and striking a dramatic pose. Under his half-apron, he was dressed in a black T-shirt and black jeans. Then it hit me and I almost laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity.

Me? They think I’m a Hibachi chef just because I’m dressed in a black T-shirt and black jeans? Hardy Har Har!

“Adelaide! Adelaide!” came girly voices from behind me and I was suddenly ambushed by Molly and McKenzie and their gaggle of nannies. “We’ve been looking for you!”

“Well, I’m here!” I exclaimed cheerfully. “You found me!”

“But we haven’t found our Hibachi chef!” Molly was near tears. “His name is Benny and he’s supposed to be here. We’ve been waiting and waiting for so long and he hasn’t showed up.”

“Why isn’t he here?” McKenzie wailed. “Our Christmas is going to be ruined.”

Wrapping the twins in a mama bear hug, I glanced at Sara, one of the nannies. “So no sign of a chef? Any chef?”

“No.” Sara shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid not.”

Bugger.
“Listen.” I dropped to a crouch so I was eye-level with the little girls. “Your Christmas is not going to be ruined, all right? I’ll make sure of that. Now run along and I’ll join you in a bit. I
promise
you will have a Hibachi chef who’ll put on a terrific show.”

“Okay,” Molly said tearfully.

“Promise?” McKenzie looked at me with those soft, hopeful eyes.

“I promise,” I said with conviction.

After they’d scampered off, I whipped out my iPhone and looked up some YouTube videos. I mean, how hard can it be? I’ve wielded knives and machetes in the Australian bush. I could probably spin spatulas and twirl saltshakers in the air.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

After watching some How-To videos and observing a few Hibachi chefs at their grill stations, I grew more confident that I could pull this off.

I can do this. Molly and McKenzie are counting on me.

I can’t let them down. I won’t.

Suddenly, Kimono-lady was scurrying toward me. “You forgot this,” she cried and plopped the tall, almost silly looking chef hat on my head. “It’s Benny Hana’s lucky hat. Now what are you waiting for? GO, GO, GO!”

Right. I’m going, going, going
. Galvanized into action, I tied the apron around my waist, marched down the narrow hallway, slid open the bamboo door, and stepped inside the private room.

Thirty pairs of eyes were fixed tight on me.

Oh bum! I gulped. This was going to be worse than I thought. A lot worse.

The entire clan was here! Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews, nannies! For a rash moment, I considered bolting out the bamboo door. But I held my ground. The kids were counting on me.

Deep tantric breaths. Find my inner peace.

Feng shui my mind… feel my chi energy.

Think tranquil and serene thoughts.

Calm, calm thoughts.

Think Japanese botanical garden.

Think pristine koi pond.

Ohm . . . Ohm . . . Ohm . . .

Somehow—don’t ask me how—I found myself bowing slightly. “Konnichiwa.”

“Adelaide!” Molly shrieked with delight. “Are you gonna be our Hibachi chef?”

“Yes.” I smiled serenely. “Yes, I am. Sadly, chef Benny Hana has been taken ill tonight and his replacement is nowhere in sight.” I gave her a mournful look before perking right up. “But… the show must go on!”

Everyone stared, incredulous, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Ender had his eyebrows raised so high I thought they might pop off the top of his head!

And Bianca’s glare was so blighting I almost shriveled on the spot.

Slightly petrified, I managed a strained smile.

Okay. Deep breaths
. To avoid Bianca’s Medusa-like scowl and Ender’s scorching-hot stare, I grabbed two spatulas, smacked the utensils together, and went straight to work.