“Trying for black out drunk tonight?” she asks.
Maverick peers around the curtain, looking at me curiously. I force a smile. He narrows his eyes. I put the cup to my lips and suck down half of it. “Like back in undergrad?”
She laughs, already a little tipsy. The memories I have with Morganna in college are my favorite. It’s before she became the shark. I understand that a lot of her personality probably has to do with dealing with Stone.
A slutty robot winds her way to Morganna’s husband and starts talking to him, all flirty and Bambi-eyed. He doesn’t look interested, but she is. Morganna doesn’t even bat an eye. I’m jealous for her. It’s such an atypical marriage. It’s a whole different way of life. A life I’m not sure my skin is thick enough to handle.
I cough and meet Maverick’s eyes. Concern creeps onto his face and I’m not sure if he’s worried about my wax burn or my shift in demeanor. I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s concern nonetheless. “Let’s go dance, Morg,” I say, pulling her up to her feet, mostly so I have leverage when I stand up.
“You’re up for dancing?” I’m sure right now she has a vision of me spread eagle on my dining room table, hot wax on my bits. So I just nod and then shake my head when she starts to laugh. Emboldened by my anger and the vodka, I pull her into the mass of swaying, costumed bodies. I feel ridiculous being at this type of soiree. I am done… Correction, I was done with this lifestyle. I tired of it years ago when I was planning a wedding and perusingParentingmagazine. Look at me now.
“How many people has he slept with, Morg. I need to know what league I’m in here. It’s been obvious that I’m in over my head from the start, but I’m feeling like a freaking Little Leaguer right now. I’m in this bar,” I dance a little, just to fit in, and wave around the room like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world.
She purses her lips and shakes her head. “My lips are sealed. He’s bad news. I told you to should stay away,” she says joining in my one-person dance fest.
“Bad how?” I’m desperate for any reason to run. Like I know I should.
“He does seem different with you,” she leans in and blurts into my ear, ignoring my question. The music is blaring. “If you only knew how much that costs me to admit, I think you’d feel hopeful about the status of your…arrangement with him,” Morganna says, slurring every other word.
This was my last hope of getting anything out of her. It’s already too hard to deny my feelings for him. A quick glance to our VIP section shows several scantily clad women all vying for Maverick’s and Stone’s attentions. Maverick’s talking to them, and he even smiles every once in a while, but his gaze hasn’t strayed from me. I wish I could change what I see. I wish I could change what I feel for him. I shake my head sadly and try to disappear into the crowd.
Two young guys dressed as prisoners circle us, with huge, goofy grins on their faces. Morganna laughs and shakes her head. I think I hear her tsking as well. These guys are really young. Dancing with their shoulders and thrusting their hips. Babies, really. They haven’t lost themselves that final time quite yet—it’s obvious.
And Stone is here, buzzing up to us like freaking Patrick Swayze inGhost.The baby men widen their eyes when they take in Stone. He’s huge, all muscles and tattoos and confidence jacked up so high that it probably needs its own zip code. He rests a hand on each of our shoulders.
“You boys like my girls, huh?” Stone growls. “They are pretty smokin’.”
Morganna hits him in the arm playfully. “Don’t scare them, honey,” she yells.
“Do you know what I like to do with prisoners?” Stone asks the boys, who are now just standing there, glued to the floor, dumbfounded looks perched on their faces. One guy shakes his head. The other turns around and runs away. He actually runs. I’m impressed with his feat in such close quarters.
I crane my neck and find Maverick sitting in the VIP area surrounded by even more woman than when I looked a few moments before. His elbows rest on his knees and his hands are folded together. I notice the blond cop, Nic is among his fan group. He’s totally into his conversation, not even looking my way anymore. My heart hurts worse than my waxed crotch. The other prisoner retreats, trying to escape Stone’s wrath.
I yank on the sleeve of Morganna’s costume. “I need to get out of here. Can you take me home?” I ask.
She looks up at Stone. “How much have you had to drink? Windsor wants to make a quick exit,” she explains. He shakes his head like she smacked him.
“I don’t want an ass beating tonight. Plus, Mavvy’s the only sober one here. He’ll kill me if I bring her anywhere,” he admits. He grabs Morganna’s waist and pulls her to him and starts grinding on her. I swear they’re more like twenty-one year olds than married adults.
Maverick is still busy with his admirers so I make my own freaking escape.
“He’ll find you,” I hear Stone rumble over everything else.
The vodka has numbed my pain, but it also makes me teeter in these sky-high heels. Somewhere inside me, I know I’m probably overreacting, that he’s just talking and that’s not a crime. The overwhelming sense that this thing with Maverick is only going to end badly forces my feet one in front of the other. His past is never going to change. My past is never going to change.
I slam into another blond cop with fake boobs. It’s the same exact costume. Tears sting my eyes as her drink splashes down the front of my dress. Finding a side exit, I push my way out and take off my shoes. Clutching them in one hand, I run down the side of the building, the pavement cold on my feet. A security guard sees me and stops me. I grab his jacket.
“I left in taxi. I went home,” I plead with him, nodding my head as I speak. “Please. The girl in the red dress got into a taxi and went home,” I say again.
“You’re sure you don’t need help?” he asks. I shake my head. I must look wild, out of control, but he nods and walks off. I duck into a back alleyway just as my phone starts buzzing. Maverick. I ignore his call and text Gretchen to come get me. I hear rather than see when Maverick blazes out of the building. A loud bang resounds and a string of profanities travel to my hiding spot. His car revs to life only a few moments later.
Gretchen the fairy and Benji the pirate pull up in her car fifteen minutes later. I rip off my devil horns.
“Take me to Jess’s house for the night, please,” I command quietly the second I slip into the back seat. I adjust my position when my vagina burns in protest. Gretchen doesn’t ask or say anything. She just drives. She knows something went horribly wrong and the fact that she nearly dismembered my lady bits tonight gives me the trump card. She won’t even ask.
I flip on the silent button on my cell, which has been blowing up non-stop with texts and calls from him.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I’m sure she thinks I’m thanking her for rescuing me. I’m actually thanking her for more than that.
