Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
This execution should’ve been done a long time ago. But I didn’t do it for me or my sister, or even the pack.
I did it for Aubrey. Now, she’ll be safe.
And now I can go home.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aubrey
I sit alone at All Night. It’s karaoke night and some drunk guys murder Queen’s “We are the Champions” up on the stage, shouting lyrics with raised beer glasses. Very original, guys. That song never gets sung on karaoke night.
But whatever. No shade. Music heals. That’s why I’m here. Drinking a gin and tonic because that’s what Billy likes. It’s been twelve days since the wedding, and it hasn’t gotten much easier.
Classes are over. I officially graduate Saturday. I have no job lined up, other than my part time hours at La Résistance, which means I have nothing to do.
Nothing to take up the time and give me focus.
Way too many hours to ruminate on why Billy didn’t decide we were worth it.
The first week after the wedding, I held a thread of hope, thinking Billy might show up or call. I wanted to work things out with him.
I feel pathetic to admit it, but I wanted him to choose me. I wanted him to say I’m his fated mate. I’m the one.
But he didn’t.
I haven’t heard a word from him.
I still have two guys tailing me at all times. They’re even here tonight, sitting at a table by the door.
I order another drink and try not to check my phone. I still have Billy’s picture as my lock screen’s wallpaper. When I first snapped the picture, I saved it there to annoy him. Look at us, co-parenting a puppy. It’s the sort of picture a girlfriend or partner would take and save. Now, there’s no hope of us becoming a couple, but I can’t bear to change it.
Madi got back from her honeymoon in Greece yesterday. I wanted to give her time to settle and get over the jetlag before I called her, but I ended up leaving a message an hour ago telling her I needed a shoulder to cry on.
I need someone else’s perspective.
And music. Music helps.
“Aubrey Cook is up next,” the emcee announces.
I’d signed up when I got here in case I felt like singing. I sigh. Do I?
Fuck it, why not? I stand, find my way up to the stage.
“Which eighties song tonight?” the emcee asks.
Yeah, they know me here.
“‘Pictures of You,’ by the Cure.”
The emcee nods, and I take the mic and close my eyes, swaying to the melancholy intro. It’s a seven minute ballad, and I intend to indulge in the entire thing. And yeah, I know I’m bringing the mood in the place down.
Too bad.
I let the music wrap around me. Swallow me up. I’m the kind of person who feels emotion as music–the two are inextricably intertwined for me.
I pace around the small stage with my eyes mostly closed singing–not for the audience, but to get this sense of gloom out of my chest. For catharsis.
They’re patient with me for about half the song, and then the crowd gets annoyed.
“Too sad!” someone yells.
“Why you gotta bring us down?” someone else heckles.
“Shut up and let her sing.”
My eyes fly open. I recognize that voice.
Madi’s sitting at the table right in front of the stage. She must’ve come in while I was indulging. She’s rocking with the sad music, showing her New Wave appreciation like a good emo girlie with melancholy glee.
I jump off the stage and lean into her, sharing the mic, so she can sing the last lines with me.
The crowd boos, and I laugh into the mic before handing it back to the emcee.
He puts on the original Eric Carmen version of the song “All by Myself” to mock me. “Come back up, Aubrey. We know you’re sad. Get him out of your system.”
I flip him off.
Madi chuckles and hugs me. “Ugh. I got your message. What happened? Is it Billy?”
I try to swallow the walnut-sized lump in my throat as I nod and sit down across from her. I spill the thing about overhearing Brick ask him his intentions and saying my memories might have to be wiped by a vampire.
Madi winces.
“Is that a real thing?”
She nods. “It’s how they protect their secret.”
“Nobody’s touching my memories,” I snarl.
She hesitates then nods, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “I won’t let it happen. I let the wolf's secrecy pull us apart once. No matter what happens with Billy, you’re my inner circle.”
A huge pressure lifts off my chest. “Thank you.” I draw a breath. “Anyway, when Brick asked, Billy said he didn’t know if I was his mate. And then his dad came up to us at the wedding.”
Madi nods. “Right. Tell me what happened.”
I tell her about the altercation and me asking Billy again if I was his mate and him just standing there with a blank look on his face.