Oh boy.
I can’t not watch as he picks it up and reads it. But the bastard doesn’t say anything, and since Ty’s occupied with whatever the fuck amuses him and Flynn’s not the type to scoop water out of another man’s sinking ship, I have to be the one to ask.
“So, is she, uh, mad?” I tread carefully.
Instead of responding with words, he turns the phone around toward me so that I can read the screen.
Charlotte: Tell Jude I know he could hear me and that was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life. The only way for him to atone for his sins is to wear a thong at our wedding.
I look up from the phone and meet Rem’s shit-eating grin.
“Shall we do a little shopping tomorrow, Jude?” he asks. “A little trip to the mall, perhaps? I think you can probably find exactly what you’re looking for at Victoria’s Secret.”
“What?” Ty asks, glancing between the two of us. “What’s going on?”
Rem turns the phone toward Ty and Flynn so they can read the text.
Instantly, Flynn cracks a smile, and Ty bursts into outright cackles.
“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots. “Maybe we should go back to that strip club and see if you can borrow one of Sunshine’s G-strings?”
That suggestion makes Rem light up like a goddamn Christmas tree. “Even though I’d rather cut off my right nut than go in that place again, I think that’s a grand-fucking-idea.”
Flynn nods accordingly. “Same.”
And I do what Jude Winslow does best…I go with the flow and have some motherfucking fun with it.
“All right. Fine. I’m prepared to righteously seek forgiveness from my future sister-in-law,” I announce. “Rem text Char back and let her know I’m in. But I’m buying my own panties. Jude Winslow doesn’t share his thongs with anyone else.”
Remy shakes his head on a laugh. “You’re insane, you know that?”
“Definitely not the first time I’ve heard that.” I smirk, leaning back in the booth and relaxing one arm on the ledge.
“Won’t be the last either,” Ty retorts. “Thank fuck. I need someone to keep my life interesting.”
While Rem texts Char back, the rest of us clean up the trays and get ready to hit the streets again. I still have no idea what in the hell we’re going to do after this, but I’m not the type of guy to get rattled by a change of plans.
Spontaneity might as well be my middle name.
Which is why, when we all finally leave the Bell and I look across the street and spot a red neon sign that reads Fortune Teller, I know exactly where our next stop needs to be.
Oh yeah. Come to Papa.
Remy
A big neon sign blinks with the words “Fortune Teller,” and below that, another, smaller wooden sign declares Miss Cleo’s Prophecies. Ty and Jude bounce on their toes excitedly while Flynn tries to get a look in the building through the windows.
“Fuck yes! This is the perfect activity for your bachelor party, bro,” Jude cheers, feeling like he’s now confirmed his initial assessment from across the street. “This is exactly what we need to get the night back on track.”
Flynn stands up straight and shrugs, and I breathe out a sigh. Great. Something else I’m going into blind.
“What if she says I’m going to lose a testicle in a freak stripper-related accident?” Ty asks with a chortle.
“We can take you right back next door and get it over with, I guess,” I supply.
“Come on, come on,” Jude interrupts. “We have all the time in the world to give one another shit, but the opportunity to go inside and have our fortunes read is now! Stop bullshitting, and let’s go!”
He yanks open the door, diving in headfirst. He’s closely followed by Ty and then, slowly, a somewhat reluctant Flynn.
That leaves me for last, and though I briefly consider leaving my brothers behind and catching the subway home, ultimately, I decide to follow along.
When we step inside, it’s dark enough that it takes my eyes a full thirty seconds to adjust. The smell is musty and stale, but I’m not all that surprised as I get a look around.
Dark burgundy velvet curtains hang heavily over every surface, gold-tinted ropes tying them back at the doorways. I can only imagine the types of people this place pulls in on a regular basis, and if I had to guess, I’d say the sex-den-style curtains have never been washed.
I wrinkle my nose and sigh. Why in the universe of fucks did I leave Charlotte to come out with these bozos tonight?
Ty and Jude taunt and take fake punches at each other as they dance around the room, and Flynn looks around calmly. He gives nothing away on his face, but I can’t believe he’s thinking anything other than the things I am at this point.
“I don’t even think anyone’s here,” I say to Jude, a heavy sigh following my words. I glance around the curtain into the back room and over to the room at the side. Nothing.
Screw this. I’m done.
I turn to leave, shoving around Flynn’s stationary body, but I pull up short when a woman steps into my path, seemingly out of nowhere.
She has bright green eyes—so powerfully colored that they shine even in the dim room—and her dark hair is pulled back under a velvet hood. She looks relatively youthful, her skin unmarred and smooth, but I can tell she’s a lot older than she looks. Somehow. I just can’t put my finger on how.
“Hello, boys,” she says softly, gesturing forward with both hands. “Remington, Flynn, Ty, and Jude. I’m sorry I’ve kept you. I’m Cleo.”
“Where did you come from?” Flynn asks, his eyebrows drawn together in a way that says he’s just as spooked as I am by her sudden appearance and use of our names.
“It matters not where we’ve been, my dear, but only where we are going.” My skin tingles with uncertainty at her cryptic message. I don’t like the feel of this place at all, and as my body prepares to move, her eyes jump directly to me.
“That is why you’re here, is it not? To have your fortune told?”
My shoulders settle as she pulls her lips up into an impressively curved smile. She’s teasing me, I think.
And I really don’t know if I like it.
“Where’s the crystal ball? Isn’t there always a ball?” Ty asks, bouncing from the opening to the back room forward, bumping both Flynn and me out of the way.
“Still a little worked up over almost having to find a replacement for that testicle, huh, child?”
My eyebrows draw together, and Flynn’s head whips toward me as my mind races. How the fuck does she know about that? And our names?
And then it hits me.
We were just talking outside, in front of her shop. She probably has a million fucking cameras pointed out there, with audio, and that’s how she gets her ideas for what to say to people when they come in and pay her for a load of garbage.
“How many cameras do you have outside?” I ask, my tone unmistakably accusatory.
She smiles again, skirting past me toward the back room. “However many you need to believe I have, my dear.”
I roll my eyes. Fucking hell, this woman is full of shit, and apparently, she gets some kind of sick pleasure out of toying with people.