Chapter 23
Rebel brushed past him and sat down on the bench, digging through his jacket pocket. “Cut you a line?”
Gerry had no idea what the vial Rebel set in front of him was. The tiny straw Rebel held up helped to fill in the blanks, though. “Oh, no,” Gerry shook his head in time with both hands. “Not for me. No, thanks.”
“Fucking lovely,” Mark purred, ignoring Gerry’s reply. Mark walked to the bench, tucked one leg behind Rebel, and slid in behind. Then Mark nudged up as far as he could go and wrapped his arms around Rebel’s waist. Mark tapped the bench in front of Rebel, his fingers barely disturbing the fabric, as if he were worried that Rebel had already started cutting the coke and he’d be disturbing something. There was no need to worry, though. Rebel merely sat, ass shoved against Mark’s crotch, eyeing Gerry like he was watching a film. “Sit with us, Fawn.”
“I don’t…”