“I found her with her wrists slit.”
My drink froze halfway to my mouth. Heat climbed to my jaw. My hand went numb on the glass. “What?”
Derek’s voice went flat. “You brokeher, man. I found her bleeding, and ever since things haven’t been the same. Hunter’s not cutting it, and I can’t fill the hole you left.”
Fuck.
My gaze locked on Maggie. Katie had slid in beside her, and just like that she loosened even more—smiling, shoulders down, laughing—thriving.
“I shouldn’t have come back.”
Derek didn’t blink, just shoved me. “No. You shouldn’t have left, you asshole.”
I drained the rest of my drink in one quick swig, the burn doing nothing to scorch out my regrets. “Another,” I said, the glass hitting the bar harder than I meant.
Derek placed his hand on my shoulder. “Enough. You’ve got a job to do. Remember?”
My mouth twisted. “Yeah, and in order to do it… I need another.”
Maggie
Everything about this evening was completely out of my comfort zone—the people, the stupid strip of lace Hunter made me wear as a dress, the fact that Katie and I were getting an award for a video we'd made one drunk night when we were both feeling lonely, when the only comfort we found was each other. What was even worse was that it was all because of the fucking curse I placed on Hunter. Without it, I wouldn’t be here.
Hunter's watch beeped—signaling something he was supposed to do with the awards.
“Dinner time,mo chróí.” He kissed the top of my head. “Take Katie to our table. I’ll be over in a moment.”And with that, he made his way through the crowd to the stage.
I took Katie by the hand, pulling her away from the other alt girls looking to make it in the camgirl scene.
“You heard the man. Let’s go, Kates.”
I flagged Graham and Derek with a two-fingered “get overhere!” and plunked myself down at our table. Katie to my right, Graham to my left, and Derek beside him.
I reached down and rubbed my foot just as Graham sat. “Ugh, these shoes are killing me.”
He smirked at the stilettos. “Yeah, well—altitude sickness is a bitch.”
I squinted at him. “What?”
He rolled his eyes and swallowed his drink with a grunt. “Not worth it if you can’t walk.”
“I can walk just fine.”
Hunter tapped the microphone to get the guests’ attention and laid on his Irish accent extra thick. “Alright, you beautiful pleasure demons, dinner will be served in a few minutes, so if we could all find our seats that’d be great. Oh, and uh… save the moaning for after dessert.”
The room lit up with chuckles and snorts as I watched Hunter exit the stage, but instead of joining us, he continued putting on the show, floating from table to table, rubbing elbows with the biggest and best of the industry.
Dinner was a multi-course gourmet meal. Champagne and sparkling cocktails came with the arrival of the appetizers, followed by tiny portions of high-end meats and desserts.
Graham shoved his fork through his salad, unimpressed. “Who puts gold leaf in rabbit food?”
“No kidding, I could really go for a burger,” I said, glaring at the lobster bisque in front of me. “I hate seafood.”
He barked a short laugh. “Christ, you’re perfect.”
Perfect.Right. Perfect for hiding a curse under a five-hundred-dollar dress. Perfect for sitting next to a man I'd ruined and another I was actively ruining. If perfect meant a walking disaster with good bone structure, sure. I'd take the trophy.
It felt like dinner dragged on forever. Hunter never sat down. Tiny tastes of extravagance kept appearing before me, turning me off from anything related to glam and ritz.
