Last Weekend of Birthday Drama

Savannah

“Van, your phone. Your uncle is calling you. Baby, wake up.”

Damon’s voice stirs me awake.

Groaning, I don’t open my eyes before I hear my uncle’s voice on the cold phone pressed to my ear.

“Savannah? Are you okay?”

I make a throaty sound for a ~Yes~ but can’t seem to shake this dragging feeling.

“Are you sleeping?”

I make another sound for a ~no~.

“Savannah Gabriele Madis, are you hungover?”

~Fuck!~

“Nope. Uh… Of course not.”

I could hear him sigh into the phone.

“Uncle, I took my pain meds early. My knee was hurting but I’m okay. I just woke up from a nap. That’s all.”

I felt my stomach start to toss and turn.

My mouth started sweating, and I knew I was going to puke.

“It’s eight in the morning. You took a nap? You skipped physical therapy and group yesterday.”

~Oh damn it!~

“Yeah, I just…I’m sorry, uncle. I’ll be home today.”

My uncle sighed again, unhappy with my answer and my lack of detail, but how could I tell him I drank and fucked Damon until I passed out?

I felt my first gag start up, pointing to the trash can. Damon moved fast and got it to me just in time.

I dropped the phone and poured my guts into the black plastic trash can.

Damon holding it for me while I bared my soul yet again in his presence.

I hate that.

This.

Before the crash, I could drink as much as I wanted and never even catch a whiff of aftershock, and now it is looking like anytime I drink, I will be wishing I was dead instead of surviving.

How fun.

Damon picked up my phone for me, resting the trash can on my lap.

“Savannah had to use the bathroom. She’s good, though,” he lied for me.

“Bullshit. She drank, and is puking. Damn it, Damon, you are there with her. Talk her out of drinking alcohol.

“Not only is she underage, but her kidneys can’t take it. One has a lesion, and the other is smaller than it should be. Keep her away from the damn bar.”

Damon growled, looking down at me like this is my fault and not Dr. Dickhead’s.

“I was unaware of the kidney problem. I give you my word, she will not be drinking again. She’s banned from the bar effectively immediately.”

He was back to that douchebag emotionless mask that I hated.

Before I could say anything, I started in again, puking and gagging, spitting then hating my existence.

A fun little cycle I did not enjoy but keep finding myself on.

Maybe I’m a little bit of a masochist.

“I’m giving you this one chance. I know she’s a handful. I know she’s going to end up doing whatever she wants one way or another, but—try. At least try.”

I wanted to snatch the phone away and say that wasn’t true, I didn’t want Damon getting lectured because of me.

But I couldn’t.

I was sure I was going to start in again.

And if I’m being honest, my uncle held some truth. I am in fact a handful.

Damon agreed and hung up, walking into the bathroom grumbling under his breath things he didn’t want me to hear.

I heard the shower get turned on and closed my eyes.

This hangover shit was for the birds.

It was meant to be a funny movie but nothing else.

“Let’s go, Shortcake. I got you.”

Damon helped me up, letting me carry the trash can as he led me into the bathroom and took my brace off.

Both of us climbing into the warm water, I leaned against him and let him wash me.

He took care of me, doing my hair and being gentle when it came to my leg.

I had black, blue, and purple bruises down my leg and an ugly one on the right side of my jaw.

I had a puffed up and red splotch on my forehead from Grave headbutting me and some blueish handprints around my neck, but I was fine.

Damon was here.

I was cared for.

Drying me off and giving me a toothbrush, Damon actually—hand to God—brushed my teeth for me.

~Yes.~

Like some old ass lady slash three-year-old.

I hated it.

“Shut up, rinse and spit.”

I bared my teeth with the foamy white toothpaste in a deathly snarl meant to intimidate the heathen beside me.

I did as he said. I’d get him back.

Just not today.

Damon dressed me, then took my hand in his and walked with me out of the room and back to the kitchen.

Daxon was already there, a frozen pack of Eggos put to his head with one raw waffle to his mouth.

His bottom lip held a cut that looked red and aching.

Darrion was still laid out on the top of the bar like he had made a home there.

Like his final resting place.

He looked dead.

My knee hurt like fire but Damon said Darrion was good with it coming off.

Who was I to question him?

~A drunk horny goddess that’s who.~

“Good morning, Daxxy.” I take a seat next to him and lean into the frozen pack of Eggos.

“Vann. Darling. I hate you.”

I snort then wince.

Daxon tells Damon he hates him too and vows to never be left unsupervised with me again.

Damon agrees, saying the three of us, including Darrion, can’t be trusted to act like adults and blah blah blah.

I obviously said I was just now stepping in to adulting since I was only a single day deep into the damn ~hood~ to begin with.

~But yeah, I’m the bad guy here.~

Damon made me eggs.

Darrion woke up just as we sat down, glitching out like he really was a robot when he tried to sit up.

Eating slowly, regaining a sense of control over my tumbling stomach, I listen to Damon and some other guys talk.

Daxon and Darrion crawling back to their rooms. Literally on their hands and knees.

Standing was far too much for the elder princes and to be fair, I get it.

If I didn’t have Damon taking care of me so well I would have done the exact same thing.

I drift off, zoning in and out of their conversation. Stuck in retracing my steps to see which drink was my downfall.

I don’t want to believe it was the first one. I really really don’t.

But…it is most likely the truth.

Grave’s questions pop in.

Trying to comprehend the meaning of the universe while also understanding the reasoning behind his questionnaire and what turmoil hell I’m going to arrive at when I get home is put on the back burner when Lucien strolls to our booth and clears his throat to silence the chatting.

He is such an asshole.

He looks so smug.

At least he doesn’t look at me like I took a dump on his birthday cake anymore.

Now it’s like I’m an annoying gnat he is coming up with “fun” ways of killing.

“Girl, you alive?” He snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“Yep.” I held back the ~unfortunately~.

“Your next trial is in three days, at noon. You be here with your presentation.”

My focus locks onto the biker king.

“Three days? I have school. And what presentation? I didn’t know I had any homework.”

Damon nudged the side of my head so I would lay on his shoulder. I did.

I didn’t know why he was so touchy-feely, but it’s not like I mind.

You would just think a biker prince would be cold and standoffish, but he isn’t. Ever.

Well, now we are dating.

Still though, when he was a douchecanoe he was very hands-on.

Maybe he just can’t resist me.

“Show up or you fail. Boy, explain. She doesn’t stand a chance, but laws are laws.”

“That’s fine, Lucien. Seeing how I didn’t stand a chance with Damon and yet, here I am. I didn’t stand a chance being loyal but if you remember, I proved how loyal I am.

“Before Daxon tried to tempt me. I proved it when I took two bullets for my Angel. According to you, I wasn’t cut out for biker country. And yet, I won my fight. To the fighter you picked specifically.

“Who knows, maybe you might actually get this one right. I doubt it, but who knows what the future holds.”

I don’t know why I am so bitchy all of a sudden. Maybe the hangover? Maybe the way he called Damon “boy.” Maybe I’m just fed up with Lucien’s shit.

I don’t know.

“We will see, girl. Keep running that mouth.”

He pointed at my lips.

Blowing him a kiss, I winked.

“Oh, I will.”

My voice was so blatantly testing.

Luci walked off, a shitty smirk stuck to his asshole face.

Damon kissed my forehead before he began.

“All Lunas have side hustles for the club. Bringing in a way to help boost profits or protect us in some way. Your presentation has to be one or the other. The club will vote and either accept or deny it.”

This raised some red flags for me.

“How am I going to pass if they all hate me?”

I’m not relying on myself this time.

I would be at the mercy of the club.

The club that hates the Madis bloodline.

That hates me.

That doesn’t know me.

That follows bitchass Luci’s every word.

The one who thinks my dad and mom betrayed the club and ran off.

“They can’t deny you on personal beliefs alone. I can’t help with it, but I can answer on laws. Do you have any ideas?”

Drowning a hungry hand into my hair, I tugged at the roots.

“Well, fuck, no. To provide protection or money?” I repeated it, but I know it’s what he said.

Kissing me again, Damon pulls my hand free, kissing the tips of my fingers.

“Yes, but Shortcake, it’s okay. You will come up with something. I believe in you. You’ve never let me down.”

Dear Lord, my heart.

Nestling into his neck, I think about biker country and this position I have found myself in.

They have a bar, a tattoo parlor, a gym, a law office, bail bonds, and a garage.

They also have empty space at the end.

Apartments up top, a huge bar.

~Hmm.~

Three days to come up with an idea and bring it to the club.

Three days.

Protection or money.

~Hmm…~