CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Brooke burst on the scene like a four-year-old colt getting her first run through the field. She zipped in, ignoring the guards in front of her, her arms swinging and her braids flying. Almost in sync. Spotting us in the back, she stopped and did a hop-skip-jump before twirling around and landing on the seat across from me.
“Hi, guys,” she said in a rush, smiling from ear to ear.
Dressed in leather pants, a silky, shiny skin-tight tank top and a faux fur vest, she had glammed up for the night. Her hoop earrings swinging with her braids, she was embracing her freedom.
“Finally, finally, some booze and boys.” She clapped to herself, doing a little shuffle in her seat. “I’m free!”
Jonah and I had picked the back table for a reason. It afforded a modicum of privacy, and
