“Girls’ night out.”
“At a strip club?”
“Actually, my friend’s sister works here. We’re picking her up.” She smiles. That’s mighty convenient. But also very possible. “How have you been?”
I move my arm from her reach and resist asking Mason for an antibac wipe, but when I catch his eye, polishing a glass looking on with interest, I wonder if he might offer one without prompt.
How have I been?
Glorious. Dire.
Elated. Miserable.
Stable. Crazy.
“What can I do for you, Beth?” I ask, deciding nothing but directness will work here, and I know Beth is accustomed to boldness. Just not the kind I’m adopting now.
“Just seeing how you’ve been,” she says, easy-breezy.
“Is that why you called him too?” Danny pipes up, pulling my attention his way, as well as Beth’s and her friend’s, who I notice now is eyeing Danny. Thank fuck the girls aren’t here. It would be a bloodbath. Or would it? I know Rose wouldn’t react too kindly to another woman all over her husband, even if it’s just her eyes on him, but what about Beau? Is she even capable of caring? Does she have the capacity? Would she even really fucking care? I jerk away from that thought before it sends my mood lower.
“Danny,” he says, as way of introduction, without offering his hand. “A friend of James.”
“I’m Violet,” the brunette replies, thrusting her hand toward Danny. “Pleased to meet you.”
Danny doesn’t look at her, but looks at her hand briefly, leaving it hanging, then returns his eyes to Beth, and the brunette, Violet, awkwardly withdraws her offering.
“I don’t remember you,” Beth says.
“James and I have only recently reconnected.” He smiles, and it makes me laugh on the inside. He’s being protective. Not of me, but of Beau. Is it wasted? “Through our better halves,” he adds, taking a drink casually after coolly dropping that information.
“Oh?” Beth breathes.
“I understand you’re married,” he goes on, ignoring her reaction. I’m now settling in for the show. Beth’s not exactly unbearable, but not exactly tolerable either, unless she’s gagged, of course.
“Was.” She looks at me. “I was married. We separated recently.” Her back straightens, her chest pushing out, an air of superiority coming across.
“Shame,” Danny grunts, making her inhale, as if gathering patience.
She turns toward him and smiles. It isn’t sincere. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”
Naturally, Danny looks at me, his drink at his lips, and I nod, just wanting to get this done with and get Beth out of here. Danny leaves, the brunette following, biting at his heels, and Beth takes his stool, calling for a wine. I don’t know why; this will be over before Mason pours it. “Again, what can I do for you, Beth?”
She smiles coyly, and it gets under my skin. Pray do tell me she doesn’t think there was anything more in our meetings than raw, carnal fucking. Scratching an itch. She served a purpose for me, and I thought I did for her and her husband. But now she doesn’t have a husband. I’m not even curious as to why. How she came to be here, however? A friend who works here? “You’ve not taken any of my calls.”
“Because I don’t want to speak to you.”
“I thought, well, maybe—”
“Didn’t you hear my friend? I’m with someone.”
She laughs, and it’s like blades across my skin. She doesn’t think I’m capable of anything but fucking? “You?”
“Yes, me.” I look past her, seeing Danny watching, the brunette getting dangerously close to him. She must have zero social awareness, because Danny’s fuck-off vibes are reaching me all the way over here. “This friend of yours who works here, who is it?”
The awkwardness staring back at me tells me she’s bullshitting. What the fuck is she playing at, and how the fuck did she know I would be here?
“So who is the lucky girl?” she asks, bypassing my question.
I don’t bother telling her it’s the blonde I found in my apartment the last time I was seeing Beth and her husband out. Why the fuck am I even entertaining this shit? “That is none of your business, so if we’re done?” I go to stand, but both her hands land on my thighs, and I drop back to the stool. She gets to her feet, moves in closer, pushes her mouth to my ear. My skin crawls, every muscle tenses.
“I want you to bind me,” she whispers, licking the shell of my ear, “gag me, and fuck me black and blue.”
I clench my eyes closed and grit my teeth to deal with the unbearable closeness as I push my mouth to her ear. “Fuck,” I whisper, “Off.” Taking her forearms, I push her firmly but gently away. The indignation staring back at me amps up my anger. That anyone thinks I would even consider betraying Beau, whether they know her or not, riles me. “Goodbye.” I turn on my stool, away from her, facing the bar, and only breathe easy when I feel her move away. I look out the corner of my eye and find Danny wandering back over, looking toward the entrance, watching Beth and her friend leave.
“She was a bold one,” he says, perching on the stool. “Good job she’s gone, because Beau’s on her way.”
“What?”
“Rose just called. She’s managed to get Beau out of bed and they’re coming here. I agreed, since I assume you want to encourage her leaving the house.”
“She’s coming here?”
“Yes.”
My phone pings, and I look down at the screen, inhaling, taken aback by the woman staring back at me. It’s my wild, free-spirited, baggy-jeaned girl, but today she’s in a dress, cowboy boots, and a denim jacket. Little makeup, hair piled messily up. She looks out of this world, smiling but clearly nervous, looking almost shy. Will she understand why I’ve done what I’ve done? Will she accept it? I don’t know, so I won’t be telling her. Not until I’m sure.
Rose put her up to this picture. I need to thank her.
For helping her out of her darkness too.
14
BEAU
“He’ll love it,” Rose says from beside me in the back seat.
A man of many words, I think, as I look down at my cell, waiting for a reply. He’s clearly speechless, and I can’t blame him. From zombie to party girl in a few hours flat. I look across to Rose and smile, taking her hand and holding it. She looks gorgeous in a gold long-sleeved body-con dress. “You look amazing,” I say, my eyes resting on her little bump.
“Not just fat?” She wriggles in the seat, pulling at the fabric around her waist.
“Shut up.” Fury pulls up at the front of the club. The line outside is long, clients, mostly males, waiting to be granted entry by the two mountains on the door. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
Neither of us get out, not until Fury opens one of the doors after no doubt running a quick check and probably calling for extra men to assist. Rose steps out first, and I shift along the seat, stepping out too, just as two more suited men exit the club. I want to say it’s unnecessary. I can’t.