Vincent (Made Men, #2)(32)

Adalyn answered the phone immediately. “Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

Lake yawned. “Because I was sleeping.”

“Yeah, but you wake up at the crack of dawn. Did you do something yesterday?”

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

She had decided she would take the waitressing in an underground casino at the age of eighteen to her grave. “Nope, now what is so important?”

“Get up, wash that beautiful face of yours and be at my house in thirty minutes. Okay, thanks. Bye. I love you!” Adalyn spoke as quickly as she could before she hung up on her.

There’s no telling what mess she’s going to get me into today.

Getting out of bed, she took one step. “Son of a bitch!” She immediately remembered where half of the tears had come from—the waxing. Literally the whole thing had been torture. She had no clue how in the world she was supposed to get them on a regular basis. Trying to walk to the bathroom was more of a hobble as she grabbed her crotch area and walked like a penguin.

It didn’t take her very long to get ready; she just washed her tear-stained face after she brushed her teeth. She decided to put her hair up in a messy bun, considering it was still full of curl and hairspray, worried Adalyn would question why her hair looked like that. It was a shame to put it up because second-day curls were actually amazing, but then again, her bun looked pretty stylish.

Going to her closet, she could feel the warmth from outside. Probably because we can’t afford to turn the AC on. She decided to grab a loose, white tank top and light-colored blue jean shorts. The shorts were way too short, but it didn’t really matter because she was only going over to Adalyn’s.

Going to her purse in the tiny living room, she saw her father’s car keys right where she had left them the night before.

“Dad?” she yelled, walking to his bedroom.

Lake knocked then opened the door when she didn’t get a response. When she saw he wasn’t in his room, she grew a little worried. Grabbing her cell out of her back pocket, she dialed his number.

It only rang one time before the call was declined. What the—? A moment later, she received a text.

I’m at work. Catch you later, kiddo.

The pit in her stomach had ceased and putting the phone back in her pocket, she grabbed the keys along with her purse and headed out the door.

Lake’s eyes slammed shut the moment the brightness from the sun hit her. “Jesus Christ!” She quickly went back in the house. Going through a junk drawer, she grabbed a big pair of sunglasses. So this is what it must feel like to be hungover.

In her second attempt of going out the front door, thankfully, the sun wasn’t as harsh. Getting into the Frankenlac, she drove straight to Adalyn’s house.

“Dammit, Adalyn,” Lake said, slowing the car down when she saw several Cadillacs parked in the driveway, knowing one of them belonged to Vincent.

Lake had two options. One was to park the car and go see what shit Adalyn was getting her into. And the second was driving straight past the house and calling Adalyn to tell her some story she would think up on the drive back. Sure, she would be lying, but Adalyn purposely didn’t tell her what was going on, knowing Lake would never agree to whatever she had planned.

Reminding herself of the last encounter she’d had with Vincent, she made her decision. Nope, definitely not stayi—

Boom!

Lake pulled the car to the curb and rested her head on the steering wheel. God was giving her no choice. You could hear that noise all the way to China so there was no way Adalyn didn’t, and she would know exactly what the sound was.

Groaning, she got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as she could, cussing and mumbling under her breath as she walked up the driveway. “Stupid car … Adalyn is dead…” Halfway up, she had to start penguin-walking again. “Fucking Sadie … See if I ever wax again...”

“Um, Lake, what are you doing?” Adalyn asked.

Lake looked up from the ground to the front door where she saw Adalyn, Maria, Elle, Chloe, Nero, Amo, and Vincent staring at her like she was a freak show.

Quickly closing her legs, she stood up straight. “Nothing … What are you all doing?”

“Well, we were pretty sure we heard a bomb,” Vincent said, looking at her car.

“Nope, it does that,” Lake responded, laughing and hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

Amo crossed his arms. “Does it do that, too?”

She looked back at the huge smoke cloud. “Yep, totally normal.”

They all only continued to stare at her like she was more of a freak show.

Adalyn came up to her. “Are you okay, Lake?”

“Yes. What are you”—she swatted at Adalyn’s hand to get it off her forehead—“doing—ow! Stop it.” Lake closed her eyes to the bright sun and pulled her sunglasses back down as she smacked harder at Adalyn’s hand.

Adalyn shook her head. “Something’s wrong with you. Why are your feet covered in Band-Aids?”

Lake looked down at her feet. She’d had to cover all those blisters from the previous night, and the only thing she was able to put on her feet afterward were flip-flops.

“Your feet will eventually get used to being in pumps,” Maria chimed in.

Adalyn laughed. “She doesn’t wear high heels.”