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Imogene
“How did you hear about this place again?” I asked Melanie as she tugged me down a packed sidewalk in downtown San Diego.
Photographers lined the area with their cameras ready, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the many celebrities I noticed heading inside what appeared to be a swanky club.
“Got an invitation earlier in the week. The benefit of working for an entertainment management firm. Don’t you wish you went that route instead of physical therapy?” She waggled her brows before she scrunched up her nose. “Then again, you did just spend an entire year working on baseball players for your residency. What I wouldn’t give to see some of those guys naked. I have my theories on which players are packing some serious heat in their jockstraps.”
“I didn’t see them naked,” I reminded her with a laugh.
Although there were quite a few who tried to show off their goods when I was working on post-game therapy with them.
It was one of the reasons I wanted to work for a women’s soccer team instead of accept a one-year contract with the baseball team in Atlanta. Not only did I want to know I got the job based on my qualifications, something I’d always wonder, since my step-father was Lachlan Hale, a former star pitcher for Atlanta. I also wanted a more…welcoming environment. Not that the staff in Atlanta wasn’t welcoming. They were. But it was definitely challenging being a woman in a male-dominated career.
“Whatever you say.” Melanie rolled her eyes.
“Lachlan would have castrated them for even thinking of trying anything with me. You know how protective he can be.”
“That I do.”
Melanie and I met in college when I moved into an off-campus apartment across the hall. We’d formed an instant bond and, over the course of the next several years, became practically inseparable.
After she finished law school and accepted a job in Beverly Hills, I missed having someone who understood me so well nearby, especially since it was mere months after Samuel’s death. Now that I was here, I looked forward to making up for lost time, even if I almost bailed tonight after receiving a second necklace in so many days.
But the last thing I wanted was to go home and overthink what this could mean. Instead, I came out, intending to drink enough that I’d forget all about the necklaces.
As we approached the entrance, the pulsing beat of the music grew louder. A pair of imposing men in dark suits stood guard, but they didn’t seem to intimidate Melanie, who exuded confidence as she gave them her name. Based on the A-list celebrities I’d seen walk into this place, I half expected them to turn us away. Then again, many of those A-list celebrities were Melanie’s clients.
One of the guards stepped aside, permitting us entry, and Melanie looped her arm through mine, leading me passed a dimly lit area filled with oversized leather couches and toward a sleek, modern bar where attractive men and women expertly flipped bottles, mixing drinks with precision.
After giving the bartender our order, I scanned the large space. I recognized nearly every person here. Actors. Athletes. Models. Even a few politicians.
I was actually surprised Liam wasn’t here. He usually loved attending this kind of thing. As much as I adored him and was proud of everything he’d accomplished, he had a tendency to be fixated on being part of the “in” crowd.
As a child, he had a difficult home life. His mother was only sixteen when she got pregnant with him, and her overly strict parents had no problem reminding him he was a bastard every chance they got.
It only got worse when my father killed his mother, leaving him to be raised by two people who despised him.
I still couldn’t help but feel guilty about everything he had to endure, all because my sperm donor took away the one person who cared about him. But as Liam had repeatedly assured me, it wasn’t my fault. If anything, all the shit he went through forced him to work even harder to be successful, if for no other reason than to prove his grandparents wrong.
To shove his success in their faces.
And that was exactly what he did.
The bartender handed us our drinks, and we thanked him, leaving a generous tip. Then we made our way toward a vacant high-top table overlooking the dance floor that was packed with people moving to a hypnotic beat. I would have given anything to find somewhere to sit, considering my feet were already killing me.
“To finally being together again.” Melanie raised her manhattan toward me.
“To being together again,” I repeated with a smile, clinking my glass with hers before taking a sip of my old fashioned. As I did, a shiver ran down my spine, that same sensation of being watched creeping over me.
I discreetly surveyed my surroundings, my eyes locking on a man dressed in all black standing on the opposite side of the dance floor. His gaze bore into me, something sinister about him. After a tense moment, he looked away and continued to scan the club. That was when I noticed the earpiece tucked into his ear.
Of course.
He was one of the security guards.
He wasn’t just watchingme.
He was watching everyone.
