Page 3 of Her Wicked Plan

“Is there a picture of her?” He asks with a sly grin. “Because, with my experiences and yours in the past, the crazy ones are always the hottest.”

A laugh escapes me. “How much longer is your car in the shop for? Key marks are pretty damn hard to get out.”

The question is meant to steer him away from what Veronica looks like. I couldn’t provide him with an answer anyway since they didn’t provide a picture.

“Another week, I think.” His hand combs through his hair, pushing the strands out of his face. Recently, Myles fucked over some girl he had been sleeping with, and she went all batshit crazy on him—keyed his car and slashed his tires. He was living the real-life song of Carrie Underwood. “When are you leaving?”

“The end of the month,” I tell him. “Her current doctor is leaving by then.”

“And how long are you working for them?” He walks away from the table, setting the empty glass in the sink before turning and leaning against the counter again.

“As long as they need me.” The time frame of the job wasn’t mentioned. I’m there until they tell me they no longer have use for me.

“Well, then... I’m heading to bed because today was long and exhausting. It's something you should also do, given that bags are forming under your eyes.” He pokes at my face, but I swat his hand away. He chuckles before he walks past me, but suddenly stops. “Can we please go out one more time before you leave? Like the old days?”

I knew he was going to ask me this. One more time going out wouldn’t hurt.

“Yeah, but that means you get to pay for everything.”

“Done!” He smiles and leaves me alone with the ticking of the clock and the patient’s file staring back at my face.

“Another round!” Myles shouts over the loud music playing overhead. I can barely hear my damn thoughts in this club. Maybe that’s a good thing. The thundering bass from the speakers, the volume that is cranked up to the max. All of it can drown out the anxiety that has taken control of my body.

Myles has four shots tucked securely in his hands and gently sets them on the table, careful not to shatter the glass or spill the liquid. One for me, one for him, and two for the women who joined us at our table.

“Tell me again why I agreed to this?” My fingers pinch the tiny shot glass, and I bring it closer to my mouth. The smell of tequila drifts to my nose, making me almost gag. The last time I had a shot of tequila was back in college, and it didn’t end well. And by that, I mean I got into a fight with some random guy on the street.

Let’s just say that tequila brings out the Hulk in me.

“Because you are leaving me for who knows how long!” Myles lifts his shot in the space between the four of us. “And we haven’t had a night like this since before you became a pussy in college.”

“I did not.” It was a lie. The girls on either side of me laugh.

He scoffs. “You went from getting pussy like every night to being one. You were ‘too cool’ to come out with me to parties.”

“Look where that got me, man!”

“Going to the craziest crazy bin this city has ever heard of!” He raises the glass higher to propose a toast. “To my best friend! Leo, may you try to enjoy this new job and not lose your damn mind!”

“To Leo!” The women shout as we all hit our glasses together.

The cool liquid slides down my throat, burning on the way down, and makes my whole body fight the urge to cringe at the strength of the taste.

I fucking hate tequila, but it’s Myles’s favorite, and seeing as he is buying all the alcohol tonight, I don’t have a choice.

“I want to dance!” The redhead’s hand circles my bicep. Half of her fingers touched the fabric of the black short-sleeve I wore, while the others squeezed my bare skin.

“I’m not much of a dancer.” I try to turn down the pretty girl, whose name I completely forgot, but she insists.

“Come on, Leo!” She begs with a pout. “You can stand there, and I’ll dance around you! They are playing too good of music to continue sitting at this table!”

My eyes search the pleading expression on her face before I look over my shoulder to find Myles and the blonde already getting their mouths acquainted.

Either I dance with the woman touching me, or I have to sit here and watch Myles and the other woman make out.

“You know what?” My eyes come back to the woman, who is still pouting. “Let’s dance.”

Her smile grows more prominent as she bounces on her feet. In the next second, she drags me onto the dance floor. People around us are dripping sweat from being close together, grinding against one another in this humid club. With the number of people visiting this club, you’d think they would at least have a better air-conditioning unit.