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“I won’t be screwing him. Ever,” Davis said glumly.
“Then we’ll find you someone better,” Isabel said decisively. “I bet there are a dozen guys at this fundraiser who would love to ask you out.”
She gestured with her champagne flute, taking in the hundred or so tuxedo-clad men that filled the ballroom. Glamorous women in colorful gowns shimmered like scores of jewels amongst the sea of black and white.
“I don’t know.” Davis took another gulp of his drink. “I don’t think I’m in the mood to flirt with anyone tonight.”
“Then we’ll just enjoy each other’s company,” I promised.
“That’s right,” Charlie agreed. “Who needs men?”
“Not us,” Isabel declared. “They’re nice and all, but we don’t need them.”
Davis raised his glass, offering a toast with his first real smile of the night. “Self-actualization, bitches!”
I laughed and drank to that, sinking into the warm comfort of my friends and the slight buzz from the decadently fizzy drink. Now that my photo ops with my dad were over, I could finally relax. It was his big night, and I’d done my part to show my support. The worst of my anxiety had passed when the journalists had moved on to take candids of the most fabulous, wealthy guests at this gala. I could unwind and have fun.
“So, Allie.” Davis’ attention fixed on me, his tone dropping to something more serious. “Are you going to tell us why you looked all bummed out and tired recently? Don’t get me wrong, you look lovely tonight.”
“Stunning.” Isabel nodded.
“This gown is perfection on you,” Charlie added, tilting her head at the softly iridescent, sage silk dress that draped over my modest curves in all the right places.
I gave her a wry smile. “Well, you picked it out. Thanks for all your help getting me ready for this fundraiser. And you guys.” I included my other friends.
Davis waved up and down my body. “Honey, we had nothing to do with this hotness.”
I beamed at them. “You all talked me down from the worst of my anxiety in the limo before we arrived. I couldn’t have gotten through that photo op otherwise. My smile would’ve looked like a grimace. It wouldn’t be the first time.” I shuddered at memories of my most awkward years and how they’d been plastered all over the news every time my dad hosted a public event. Now the embarrassing pictures endured on the internet for everyone to see.
“This is what we’re here for,” Charlie declared.
“And the free Champagne,” Davis amended.
“And these freaking delicious hors d’oeuvres. I am dying for the bacon-wrapped shrimp.” Isabel popped another one in her mouth for effect, and her eyes rolled back in her head in a show of exaggerated ecstasy.
“But you were looking a little down before tonight.” Davis wasn’t willing to drop this.
Damn it. I couldn’t breathe a word about Max or my confrontation with his awful sister.
“I was staying up late researching an old case.” I settled on most of the truth. “It was really gruesome. I didn’t get much sleep for a week or so because of some of the crime scene photos.”
“Aw, babe.” Isabel’s long fingers wrapped around mine and offered a gentle, supportive squeeze. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
I shrugged, resisting the urge to bite my lip. I hated lying to my friends, even if I was only skirting the worst of the truth. “I have to look at stuff like this for my job. I’m going to have to get used to it.”
“But you don’t have to do it alone,” Charlie said sternly. “Talk to us next time. Or you don’t have to talk about it at all; just call, and we’ll come over with a bottle of pinot and a Disney film.”
My heart swelled. “I love you guys so much.”
“As much as you love the Beast?” Davis snickered.
My cheeks heated. “No,” I groaned. “I never should’ve told you that I think the Beast is hotter in his beast form than as the Prince.”
Isabel giggled. “I’m in total agreement. The prince is just meh. The Beast is all growly and possessive. It’s so romantic.”
“What happened to self-actualization, bitches?” Charlie asked. “Are we really going to romanticize your favorite childhood Stockholm syndrome movie?”
“Beauty and the Beast is not a Stockholm syndrome story!” Davis countered, exaggeratedly affronted. “He becomes a better man to deserve her because he loves her. And she falls in love with him for who he is on the inside.”
Charlie snorted. “See? You do love love.”
“Gaston is kind of hot, though.” Isabel’s voice took on a dreamy quality. “I know he’s the baddie, but…yeah. He’s hot.”
Davis gaped at her. “Okay, honey. We’re gonna to need to discuss this. Chauvinists are not hot.”
“Totally not hot,” I agreed with shocking vehemence. Max’s dismissive eye roll flashed through my mind, and my fingers flexed as I remembered how the nickname Bambi sounded in his rumbling, deep voice.
