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She left out what she wanted to tell him about the swizzle stick—and where to put it.
The male cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say.”
Tilting her head to the side, she murmured, “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.” He sat up straighter. “But of course.”
“What do you put in your coffee?”
He pulled a double take. “Ah. Well, I prefer crème de menthe.”
“That so checks out. And yes, you should feel like an asshole right now. Because you’re behaving like one.”
“Yes… you’re right. I’m—” He shook his head as he got to his feet. “I’m sorry.”
He inclined himself into a bow, picked up the cocktail by its fragile stem, and went back to where he’d come from. As he parked it on the sofa across the table, there was some chatter from his “boys,” but he shut that down quick as he saluted her with the pineapple on that swizzle stick—and then downed the drink on a oner.
“This was such a mistake,” she muttered as she stood.
“You’re leaving?” Lyric said. “Oh, wait—it’s Bitty.”
As the female waved over her head, Nalla glanced across the VIP section—
Okay,wow.
Down at the velvet ropes, Bitty stepped to the tuxedo’d guards, and talk about your glow-ups. No more jeans and a sweatshirt. She was dressed in a short black sheath that showed off what Nalla had certainly never guessed she had—and with her newly highlighted hair all loose and gleaming around her shoulders, and that lipstick, and the…
Were those false eyelashes?Nalla wondered.
Maybe it was just some really good mascara, but whether it was Maybelline or not, if it hadn’t been for that familiar face, the female was almost unrecognizable.
And what do you know, the tuxedos gave her the Mharta treatment. As she was sent through with deference, Bitty only wobbled once on her high heels. The rest of the way to the couches where her fellow vampires were was smooth. Well, smooth-ish. She kept trying to keep the hem of her dress from rising, the tug-tug-tug doing little to increase leg coverage. Meanwhile, the female seemed to not notice the attention she was getting, all kinds of eyes going wide and staying put as she passed down the aisle between the sunken areas.
On the approach, there were a couple of low whistles from the “boys” on the couch across the way, and words spoken too softly to carry over the din of the music—and then those greedy, bored, conspiring heads were put together for a second time.
Nalla moved without thinking. She put her foot up on that low table in the center of the pit, and the next thing she knew, she was marching across the damn thing, knocking over glasses, breaking things. There was instant commotion, the males and females jumping back onto the cushions so their club clothes didn’t get splashed.
She stayed standing on the table when she got to Mr. Crème deMenthe, and she looked him right in the eye as she jabbed her forefinger down into his face.
Keeping her voice low, she said, “You and your boys leave her alone. If you don’t, I will find out and I will make it right. Do we understand each other.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Any reply from him was unnecessary: Consequential learning did not require consent. It was a law of the universe.
As she turned around, she got a gander at the ring of people staring up at her. Mharta was laughing and clapping with approval. L.W. was looking bored. Shuli was brushing at the dirt on his slacks like he was noticing it for the first time. And Lyric had both hands up to her cheeks, allHome Alone, that ancient Christmas classic.
For reasons she refused to acknowledge, Nalla was compelled to glance back at Nate—
He was gone.
Ignoring that stupid sinking feeling, she focused on Bitty. The female was standing on the steps of the seating area in her sexy dress and her high heels and her long lashes… with an expression of total shock on her face. As their stares met, Bitty dropped her eyes and shook her head with embarrassment.
Yup, so that just happened, Nalla thought.
Stepping through the debris field of broken glass and puddled-up liquor, she hopped back to the floor next to her old friend.
“Be careful in your new world,” she said. “Not everyone’s looking to help you evolve.”
Walking off, she moused down the aisle that Mharta and Bitty had turned into a runway, and tried to fight the feeling that she was skulking away. She’d come to make an apology, and ended up issuing a smackdown, a threat, and a warning.
