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Me: I will be.
Dylan: You reckon that’ll kick in tonight? Or should I warn the guys to strap on some armour?
Me: You a funny guy *said in best foreign accent*
Dylan: Just looking out for my girl.
Me: Love you, D. Now leave me be. I’m getting wasted.
Dylan: Jesus. We’ve got music to play. Hold off on the turps.
Me: Just fucking with you. I’m only having two drinks.
Dylan: Famous last fucking words. I’m coming now.
“Girl, you are smiling like a loon,” Monroe said. Lifting her chin at my phone, she added, “That your man?”
I placed my phone on the counter and reached for one of the drinks Doug had made us. “No, it’s my bandmate.”
“You two aren’t together?”
“No. He’s one of my closest friends.” Now that Tricia was gone. I lifted my Jägerbomb up. “Cheers.”
We threw the drinks down our throats and I remembered why I didn’t drink Jäger often.
“You don’t love it so much?” Monroe asked as she took in the face I pulled.
“It’s not my favourite, no.” I caught Doug’s eye and raised my empty Martini glass while indicating that I’d like another.
She laughed. “We need to drink together more often. You just need to drink more of it and then you’ll start to like it.”
“Oh, God, is my cousin trying to make you drink Jäger?”
I turned to find a blonde woman standing behind us, a look of amusement on her face.
Monroe turned also. “Oh, hush, Tatum. I need to find at least one person who wants to drink it with me.”
Tatum was gorgeous, but in a completely different way to her cousin. Where Monroe was ample curves, Tatum was slender; where Monroe was mostly clean skin, Tatum was inked all over; and where Monroe’s eyes held warmth, Tatum’s held hesitation.
Her eyes met mine, narrowing. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re so familiar to me.”
Monroe’s face washed over with recognition. “I’ve been sitting here thinking the same thing, and I’ve just figured it out. You’re the singer in Cherry Vivid, aren’t you? The band that plays here a couple of times most weeks.”
“Yes, that’s me.” I’d never seen them here before, but that didn’t mean much, because usually I was either working the stage or dancing. I didn’t spend a lot of ti
me socialising unless you counted the time I spent with my bandmates or with Doug.
“Tatum!” A guy’s voice cut through the air, and a sense of having heard that voice hit me.
Tatum turned at the same time I looked past her at the man walking our way. My tummy did flips like it was a freaking Olympic gymnast, and my legs threatened to give way when I saw who the deep rumble belonged to.
The guy I’d met in the back of Aaron’s car that morning.
Devil.
