Shameless (Made For Them #3)

17. Fireworks

Stefan

T he bartenders are more than happy to swear that Jasmine is drinking martinis despite being pregnant.

I’m happy to help Jules with this. We’ve had our differences in the past, but he’s still my brother. Besides, I wouldn’t wish Jasmine Wheeler on my worst enemy. Ok, that’s probably bullshit, Evan would totally deserve a wife like Jasmine, or Tiffany.

I’m also doing it for my niece. I understand why Jules has been so worried about his daughter. Jasmine doesn’t even pretend to care about her little girl. I swear, my brother’s ex was made from Tiffany’s same mold.

But I’ve used enough of my time trying to fix Jules’s problems. I want to find Lula and Crew, maybe have some champagne before dinner.

I can’t help but smile at the thought of what happened the last time the three of us had champagne together.

I wouldn’t mind a repeat of that night. Don’t ask me what it is that makes sharing Lula with Crew so hot. If anyone had told me I would enjoy seeing my girl with another guy, I would have laughed. But this is the thing, Crew isn’t just another guy. He’s my brother and Lula loves him. All I want is seeing Lula happy. I know I’m a huge part of that happiness, so I don’t feel threatened by Crew.

Or by Jules.

The realization hits me so hard that I stop in my tracks to appreciate that thought in all its importance.

I know I told Jules that if he loves Lula, I’m ok with it as long as he treats her right. I threw in his face that I’m confident in my relationship with my girl and I don’t feel threatened by him. One thing is not being jealous of Jules, like I’ve been my whole life, another thing is wanting them together.

The truth is that they’re made for each other the same way Lula and I are. We’re like the parts of a puzzle, the picture wouldn’t be complete without all of us in it, and that includes Crew.

“Hey Cutler.”

No one ever calls me by my last name. I’ve always been Stefan to everyone. Jules is the one who usually gets called by our last name, a remnant from his varsity football days.

I turn on my heels and glare at Mason Morelli. It makes sense that he would call me “Cutler,” he’s an outsider after all.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I grind out, careful not to raise my voice. We’re right outside the pool area, so there isn’t anyone here aside a few waiters fetching orders to the poolside tables from the main restaurant, but I don’t want to cause a commotion unless it’s strictly necessary.

The sardonic smile on Mason’s face rubs me the wrong way.

“Is this how you treat your guests? Jeez, you can’t find good service anywhere these days, not even at a Country Club. Or is this the famous California hospitality?”

If he’s trying to be funny, he’s totally missing the mark.

“Oh we’re plenty nice to guests. Who even let you in here?”

His smile widens. “I came in with my uncle. He’s been a member here since before your family took it over. So, I’d be a little nicer unless you want me to let my uncle know that his family isn’t respected here. I don’t know if you’ve met my uncle before, but you don’t want to disrespect him, trust me.”

Fuck this guy. Seriously.

“Is this a threat, Morelli?” I don’t let him intimidate me, even though a little voice in my head tells me that I probably should.

He shrugs, his body language way more relaxed than mine. “Nah, just stating a fact. Everyone in town knows that staying on my uncle’s good side is wise.”

I clench my fists, annoyed by his tone. “Are we done with the mob 101 class, or is there another reason why you’re in my way?”

His smile fades, replaced by a stony expression. “As a matter of fact, there is. It’s fucking annoying to be talking business on a holiday, but this is important. It’s come to my attention that the cops are sniffing around Star Thunders books. And I have it on pretty good authority that they’ve been invited to do so by you and your brothers.”

Shit.

I don’t let his words rattle me, at least not on the outside. “You should reevaluate your sources, Morelli. There’s a police investigation in progress and the owner of the company and his deputy were brutally murdered. Of course the cops want to look at Star Thunders in depth.”

He takes a step forward and I don’t back down. Morelli is tall and in good shape, but I have at least three inches and thirty pounds on him.

“Cut the bulllshit, dude. I’m just here to tell you that the cops won’t find anything. Unless they look at my uncle’s books that is. But those are kept safe from anyone.”

It’s hard to believe that’s the case. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that there’s no trace of the money laundering Eddie was doing for you?”

“Lower your voice, dammit.” Morelli rolls his eyes. “It’s called money fucking laundering for a reason. It’s all done under the table. What would the point be in fucking up the books of our legit businesses? Then we wouldn’t be able to continue to operate with them.”

Ah. There it is.

I should have known the Morellis wouldn’t let us go without a fight. “This is the problem. We don’t want to continue whatever operation Eddie and Trevor ran with your uncle. We won’t need you to sponsor us anymore and we won’t help you smuggle any of your merch on our boats.”

Mason laughs.

A legit, belly laugh.

“I’m not joking.” I bite out. “We’re not. You can threaten us all you want but we’re done with the shit Eddie was doing for you under any capacity.”

Morelli’s smirk is unsettling. “On that, we agree.”

I swear this is the most confusing conversation I’ve had in a while. “Come again?”

“Eddie and Trevor knew what the fuck they were doing. Do you really think we would put millions of dollars of product in the hands of a bunch of noobs?”

When he puts it this way, I guess it makes sense. “So that’s it? We’re off the hook?”

Mason’s smile fades again. “You are. Of course there is the fact that you gave your fucking books to the sheriff before you knew if that would cause us trouble. You’re lucky we aren’t in the prohibition era anymore or even in the 80s. We would have made a fucking example out of you. And we would have taken your company and every cent you ever made with it. My uncle still wanted to teach you a lesson by making sure there would no longer be any books to look at. Or boats.”

Fear grips the pit of my stomach and I struggle to ask him what he means. “How?—”

Morelli shrugs again. “Oh, take your pick. Playing with electricity and water can be dangerous. And all that fuel you keep on your premises for the traditional engines? Fires happen all the time.”

This guy is a total psycho. How can he talk about setting fire to Star Thunders as if he was talking about going to the movies later?

“You said your uncle wanted to teach us a lesson.” I observe, clinging to the irrational hope that he somehow nixed the idea.

That smile makes another appearance on the face of Lula’s former friend’s. “I’m glad you aren’t as stupid as you look. I swear I was starting to wonder why Lula cares so much about you. You’re right. My uncle wanted to send you and your brothers a message that you don’t get the cops involved in your business, no matter what. Under any other circumstances, I would have let him.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Lula cares about you. And I owe her. I’d have been locked up for years if she hadn’t taken the fall for me last year. I told her I was in her debt, so this is me paying it off. I still feel bad for not believing her when she told me that she had nothing to do with my arrest a few weeks later, so I’m showing some extra good will and I got my uncle to leave you alone.”

That doesn’t make me feel any better. “She told you she didn’t want anything from you. If you think you’re going to suck her back into your bullshit?—”

He shakes his head. “No. I really fucked up with her. She hates me now and I don’t blame her. But at least we’re even. I promise.”

I feel weird believing the words of a lowlife like Mason Morelli, but I do. “Right. Thank you, I guess? There’s something that’s bothering me though.”

Mason chuckles. “What is it? I’m feeling generous. I’ll answer one question.”

“Didn’t Evan call the cops on you and you were found on a yacht so full of your ‘merch’ to get you locked up for decades? Or at least that’s what I heard.”

That arrogant smile is back on his face. “Luckily the yacht was in Miami and not New York. My family has excellent connections there even at a federal level. New York has always been a tougher nut to crack, thanks to judges like Lula’s stepfather. The yacht was under someone else’s name and the judge accepted my version that I was there for a party and fell asleep after indulging a little too much. So they let me go and the guy whose name is on the boat got twenty years.”

Jesus. “So some poor idiot is paying for a crime he didn’t commit?”

Mason snorts, amused by my question. “Believe me, the guy whose name was on the boat’s title, had a rap sheet longer than our constitution. Besides, my family is taking care of his. We don’t abandon our friends and we never forget our fucking enemies.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Mafia 101, huh?”

“Exactly.”

I guess it makes sense. “So Lula’s stepfather is clean? He didn’t strike me like a nice guy on Twinberry Cove. He was acting like he expected special treatment from everyone, including law enforcement.”

Mason’s gaze darkens. “I said he was a tougher nut to crack, not that he was clean. He just likes to look like he takes a hard stand on a certain kind of crime, but he’ll do all kind of shady stuff to further his political ambitions.”

I hate that, but I’m not surprised. “So Evan gets away with what he did to you?”

“For now,” Mason scowls. “We can’t touch his family without major problems with our political connections, but they better watch their backs. The higher you climb, the further you fall.”

Lula

“Today blows,” Stefan complains, pulling on his tie. “After roping us into helping with the kids’ raffle, Mom could have at least excused us from this formal dinner. Now we have no time to drink our champagne.” He throws a wistful look at the mini fridge in the manager’s office.

Crew clasps his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “No one will touch our champagne, Stef. Once dinner is over, everyone will be out watching the fireworks. Your house is empty. I was thinking we could skip the show and take that bottle home with us.”

I run my hands down the lapel of his navy blue suit jacket. “That sounds like a great idea, Crew. Besides, my room looks over the beach and we’re positioned just so that we’ll have an excellent view of the fireworks. Our town is on a semicircular cove and the docks are right opposite Arianna’s house.”

Excitement dances in Crew’s dark blue eyes. “Awesome. I’m looking forward to it. By the way, you look gorgeous tonight.”

I feel gorgeous in a black midi dress that fits me like a glove. The fabric is woven with silver threads that aren’t noticeable until the light hits me just right and then it shimmers in a burst similar to a firework.

“Thanks,” I murmur. “You look handsome too. The blue of your suit makes the blue of your eyes pop.”

“Fuck,” Crew growls, running a hand up my outer thigh and lifting the soft fabric of my dress. “Maybe we could get in a quickie and be fashionably late.”

The feeling of the cool, smooth material of my dress in contrast with the warm, slightly rough palm of Crew’s hand would be enough to convince me, but it’s the promise in the dark blue depths of Crew’s eyes that seals the deal.

“I can be quick,” I breathe out, but move my face to the side and out of reach of Crew’s lips when he tries to kiss me.

“What’s up, baby?” He asks, taken aback. “Have I done something wrong?”

I arch away from him, offering him my neck. “No, but no kisses on the lips. I spent twenty minutes applying my lipstick and while it stays on when I eat and drink, I doubt it will resist your kisses.”

Crew’s lips quirk up in an amused smile. “Maybe we should test this lipstick’s stay on power?”

I’m about to cave in, because I can’t resist Crew’s kisses, but Stefan’s hot breath on the back of my neck makes me turn to look at him.

“Or, we could see where else on Lula’s body we could leave our marks,” he suggests, lowering the spaghetti strap of my dress and placing an open mouthed kiss under my shoulder blade. “As long as we go where the dress covers her, we’ll be the only ones to know.”

Crew’s smile widens and he sinks down to his knees in front of me. “Hmm that’s an awesome idea, brother.” His hot, open mouth latches on the inside of one of my thighs, teasing the soft skin with his tongue and teeth.

“Oh my God,” I close my eyes, leaning against Stefan’s solid body as my knees go weak thanks to Crew’s expert mouth. “That feels so good.”

Crew moves up my thighs, closer to the apex, his lips just playing with the lace of my panties. “Wait until I reach my target.”

He’s going to eat me out and I know that will make us more than fashionably late, because Stefan will probably want a taste too, but I’m beyond caring. There’s no way I can resist my two boyfriends when they work together to make me feel good.

Woof .

Napoleon’s bark makes us jump.

Woof .

The tiny pooch is sitting on the ergonomic chair behind Arianna’s desk and he’s looking at us. His beady eyes are shining with disapproval.

“What?” Crew asks his dog.

Woof !

Napoleon jumps off the chair and makes his way to us, standing on his hind legs at my side, begging to be picked up.

I extricate myself from Crew and Stefan’s embrace and lift Napoleon into my arms. “I think Naps doesn’t want to be late to dinner. Is that right, baby boy?”

Woof .

Napoleon confirms, wagging his tail in approval.

“Aww,” I laugh. “Someone must be hungry. And I bet he wants to show off his new sequined red, white and blue bow tie. If the bandanna he had on earlier wasn’t too cute, this bow tie makes him look so elegant.”

I swear to God, Napoleon understands human language, because he puffs out his chest at my compliment and licks my face.

“Right. Someone must be the worst cock block in the history of this town,” Crew scowls at his dog. “He doesn’t want to be late because Arianna promised him some filet mignon for dinner. That’ll teach me buying him cute outfits for the holidays. You could at least do me a solid and not interrupt when I’m trying to get laid, buddy.”

Napoleon nestles in my arms, hiding his face in the crook of my elbow.

“Come on Crew,” I say, petting the spot between the chihuahua’s ears. “Don’t scold him. We both know that quickies always leave us wanting more. Once we get home, we’ll have all night.”

Crew sighs. “I guess. But I was so close to the promise land, I can’t help but feel disappointed.”

I offer him my sassiest smile. “I promise you won’t. There’s something I’ve been thinking about trying with you and Stefan and tonight might be the night.”

That makes both my boyfriends follow me and Napoleon out of the room with more enthusiasm than a black tie dinner with our parents would grant.

The Country Club’s main restaurant is decked out in our flag’s colors for the traditional Independence Day gala dinner.

All the members who are in attendance are dressed to the nines and our parents are no exception.

“Lula, you look pretty, sweetheart.” Dad pulls me from Stefan’s side into his arms, kissing my temple.

“You look great too, Dad,” I smile, looking at his still youthful physique in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo.

He doesn’t say anything about the fact that my arm was linked with Stefan’s. That was one of the things that would usually cause his chagrin. I know he and Stefan had a heart to heart, but I’m relieved that he must be genuinely over whatever problems he had with the idea of a romantic relationship between me and one of his stepsons.

I can’t help the anxiety that grips my insides at the idea that sooner or later, I’ll have to tell him that Stefan isn’t the only man I love with all my heart.

“Is your dad the only one who gets a compliment?” Tiffany’s voice comes from behind me. “What about me?”

I turn around to look at my mother’s stick thin frame clad in a white see-through dress that puts her underwear on show.

The only shred of modesty her outfit offers consists in the logo of the designer, embroidered all over the see-through garment in white crystals.

“Uhm, this is very… unique.” Is the only thing I manage to say that doesn’t sound entirely false.

Tiffany looks pleased, fortunately taking my words as a compliment. “This is a one of a kind piece straight from the latest show in Paris fashion week. It had a high five figures price tag, because these are real bohemian crystals.”

It’s uncanny how my mother never understood that fashion week’s show pieces tend to be created to make a statement, to set a trend as a concept, not to be actually worn.

I take in the white diamanté shoes and matching clutch that complete the outfit, together with the diamond parure of necklace, earrings and bracelet that Howard bought her for their last wedding anniversary.

Tiffany’s ensemble manages to be inappropriate and gaudy at the same time. In her head money means showing off your wealth. No one can get through to her that being ostentatious is the opposite of classy; it screams nouveau rich and will always make the people she wants to impress look at her with condescension, keeping her outside the circles she yearns to be welcomed into.

“Now that they’ve inherited some money, you should get one of your friends to buy you some diamonds, Talulah.” Tiffany gives me a once over. “If your style has to be so understated, at least you need some bling. Show that you belong in here and you aren’t the help. Of course that’s if they don’t go down for killing their father, and lose their inheritance.”

I hate the way Tiffany always manages to make me feel inadequate, no matter the circumstances.

I should ignore her. I know I should. But if I can turn a blind eye to the way she talks to me, I can’t tolerate what she’s implying about Crew and Stefan. “They haven’t done anything wrong, Mom,” I bite out, knowing how much she hates when I call her mom. “Besides, I think you’re showing enough bling for the entire family. One more diamond and the sheriff is going to stop investigating the murders and look into your international travel.”

She attempts to frown but her forehead remains smoother than a baby’s butt. “Why?”

“Oh you know, just in case the British Royal family is missing some of their Crown Jewels.”

I expect some kind of retaliation for talking back to her.

When I was a small child, she’d strike me in front of everyone if I dared contradict her or talk back to her. The last time she hit me, I remember Dad was so livid he left the party with her, asking Arianna to look after me.

I almost brace myself for being slapped across the face. The fury in Tiffany’s dark eyes and the way she’s clenching her fists at her sides tell me that she’s trying to keep her temper under control.

Her mouth moves in a strange way, I think she’s trying to smirk. “That’s funny. Howard actually inherited a tiara from his late mother, but this venue isn’t elegant enough for me to wear it. It’s priceless enough that he keeps it at his bank. I married into American royalty after all. But you shouldn’t concern yourself about me, Talulah. If you want to keep the interest of an eligible man, remember to watch what you eat. Fat girls don’t marry well.”

Stefan intervenes. “What are you talking about? Lula is perfect, if anything she could stand to gain a few pounds. But her weight doesn’t matter to the people who love her. I would marry her whether she weighed ninety pounds, two hundred or five hundred pounds.”

Tiffany’s laugh is laced with cruelty. “That makes sense since you were a fat kid. Remind me Stefan, when did things become romantic between you and my daughter? I bet it was this summer, after you grew by a foot and turned all those extra pounds into muscle. That proves my point.”

Dad shakes his head. “Tiffany, when I invited you to have dinner with us, I was hoping you and Lula could get along at least for one night. Maybe even bury the hatchet. Between boarding school and all the stuff that happened last year, you two have barely spent any time together.”

Tiffany is one of those people who would die rather than admit she’s in the wrong. “Forgive me for trying to give our daughter a decent education and for making sure she surrounds herself with the right kind of people. Her recent problems are the result of years of your lax parenting. Kids need discipline and you obviously have always been too busy fucking my former best friend behind my back to help me raise her.”

I brace myself for Dad’s response but our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the rest of our party. Jules is holding Jenna’s hand, Tilly and Arianna are with them.

Jenna is back in the frilly dress she arrived in and, judging by her pout, she isn’t happy about it.

“What a pretty little dress you have on,” Tiffany smiles, putting an end to her spat with Dad. “I’ve seen a similar one in a magazine, a real princess was wearing it.”

That on Tiffany’s lips is a huge compliment, but it isn’t received with any enthusiasm.

“I don’t care!” Jenna stomps her foot, clad in a shiny, white Mary Jane shoe. “I want to swim.”

Jules crouches down to look his daughter in the eyes. “I know, munchkin. But it got too windy to go in the water and we need to have dinner. After that we’re going to watch the fireworks, it is going to be awesome, so many colors. I promise I’m going to take you swimming tomorrow. If the sea is still too choppy, we’ll swim in the pool.”

“No!” Jenna screams, tears appearing on the corners of her eyes. “You promise we swim now, Daddy! You promise!”

Jules catches some of Jenna’s tears with the pad of his thumb, his voice low and gentle. “I know baby girl. But it’s dinner time and your Grams asked the chef to make a mountain of fries just for you. There’s also cake. The sea will still be there tomorrow and I promise?—”

“No!” Jenna’s voice goes up a few decibels. “You promise now Daddy! We swim now! I’m not hungry. No!”

Jules picks his daughter up, soothing her with gentle back rubs as she cries in the crook of his neck. “She’s tired,” he says to no one in particular. “She’s been out in the sun all day, maybe I should have gotten a sitter and she should have been in bed by now. I just wanted to take her to see the fireworks.”

“What your daughter needs,” Tiffany bites out. “Is a good spanking. Children are tiny terrorists. Their tears are nothing but a manipulation tactic to get what they want when they hear the word no. As a parent, your duty is to teach them to be obedient. The second you say no, there should be no arguing, no crying and certainly no screaming. You might be too young to remember but when Lula had a temper tantrum like that, she would be slapped across the face and sent to bed without dinner.”

Yeah, I remember that. Dad would try to get me to calm down like Jules is doing with Jenna. Tiffany on the other hand had no patience and zero tolerance for anything that wasn’t total and immediate obedience.

I swear I wasn’t a spoiled or bratty child. Jenna isn’t either from what I’ve been able to observe today. She was just promised something and when she didn’t get it, she got upset.

The calm, affectionate way Jules is trying to explain to her why he couldn’t keep his promise makes me love him even more. I could see myself having children with him one day and raising them the same way Dad tried to do with me, despite Tiffany.

“I agree with you, Mrs. Turner,” Jasmine arrives at the table in a dark red dress that clings to her curves like a second skin, showing off her thin frame and her small baby bump. “Jules has always been too lenient. Jenna, quit crying right now. You’re embarrassing me.”

Jules immediately tenses up, tightening his hold on his daughter. “I’ve got this, Jaz. Give me a second.”

Jasmine’s red lips curl into a cruel smile. “No, you don’t got this. And for Heaven sake, put her down, you’re creasing her dress.”

Jules’s expression turns into a scowl. “This stupid dress is what set her off to begin with. She was absolutely fine until we had to change back into it. If you’d let me get her something else from the club’s store?—”

“She has a beautiful dress that’s a limited edition. She’s going to wear it and behave the way I’ve been trying to teach her, or you can take her back upstairs. I’m having dinner with my date.”

With all the commotion caused by Jenna’s tears, I hadn’t even noticed Evan’s presence.

My worst nightmare is standing a few steps behind Jules’s ex. “Our table is ready, Jaz.”

His lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his dark, soulless eyes as they land on me.

I suppress a shiver, comforted by the warmth radiating from Stefan and Crew who haven’t left my side since we entered the restaurant.