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“We were just talking about David’s gate,” her mom said, sipping deeply at her mimosa.
“His gate?”
“Didn’t you see it on the news, dear?” Grace chipped in, her gaze flitting between Rose and Blake before settling back on Rose. “Some hooligans spray painted it on Monday night.”
Rose raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I think I did hear something about some vandals. I didn’t realize it involved you though, Blake.”
“Well that’s the strange part,” her mother said, a sly grin taking over her face and making Rose narrow her eyes. “You might have a fan, darling.”
“What?” Rose’s heart beat a little faster.
“They wroteshe’s mine,” Blake said dryly. “Probably just some paparazzi looking for an easy story to sell.”
Wasn’t that what she’d literally just thought too? Just the paparazzi? Was that a coincidence? Or suspicious?
“Odd,” Rose said at last and jumped when her phone buzzed with an incoming message. Her brow furrowed when she saw the name on the screen:David Blake. Sure enough, when she checked, she could see the glow of his phone under the table.
“Do you need to answer that, dear?” Grace asked, and there was a look in her eye that told Rose she knew exactly who the message was from.
“No, that’s okay. Nothing important.” Her phone buzzed again, and then again a moment later, as if to belie that fact. “Actually, I think I’m going to head out. I’m not feeling too well. It was lovely seeing you though, Grace. Blake,” she said with a curt nod and then walked around the table to press a kiss to her mother’s cheek. At this rate, Rose was going to get an anti-social reputation. This was the second time in almost a week that she’d left a gathering early atThe Hummingbird. “I’ll see you at home,” she said to Maia, who nodded while listening intently to something Cal was saying.
Her phone buzzed again in her hand and Rose couldn’t help the glare she sent Blake’s way, glancing down at the message and wincing at the message on the screen:
Running scared, princess?
* * *
The ringingof her phone jolted Rose awake with a gasp. A light sweat made her skin feel sticky and she grimaced as she brushed strands of her hair back off her forehead. The phone on her bedside was too bright for her eyes and she squinted, groaning as she saw the time and Maia’s name on the display. What was she doing calling Rose so early? Why wasn’t she asleep down the hall? Rose fell back against her covers with a sigh as she answered, desperate to make that gods-damned sound stop. “Hello?” Rose croaked groggily.
“Rose? I need you to come and get me. I did something bad.”
“Maia? Where are you?” Rose had left her atThe Hummingbirdjust hours ago and hadn’t seen her come in before Rose had gone to bed. “Are you okay?”
“I’m alright,” Maia replied, and Rose relaxed fractionally. “I’m, er, atThe Hummingbird.”
“Still?” she asked, surprised. She was pretty sure it closed at one on weekdays, so what on earth could Maia be doing there? “Alright,” Rose said, saving her questions for when she could properly interrogate her friend. “I’m on my way.”
She dressed quickly, shoving her feet into her comfiest slippers and securing her hair more firmly in a scrunchie before grabbing a chunky knit cardigan from her closet. Her driver had likely retired for the night, or day? Rose shook her head, still half-asleep as the empty elevator carried her down to the basement parking. Maia was lucky that Rose could drive. A lot of people didn’t bother when they had their own drivers, but she had always enjoyed the sense of freedom, of possibility, it gave her.
A mixture of worry and curiosity curdled in her stomach as Rose made her way toThe Hummingbird. Her brain was drawing its own conclusions about where Maia had been and what she’d been doing, and it had her worried. Maia was a romantic at heart and while she might have sort of encouraged Rose to loosen up and enjoy some casual hate-sex with Blake, she didn’t generally do casual sex herself. Then again, normally neither did Rose.
Maia’s tall silhouette and head of familiar curls were easy to spot as Rose pulled up outside the entrance to the bar and her worry only increased as she took in Maia’s rumpled state. Really, she was lucky that it was late-summer, otherwise Maia would have been freezing in her brightly colored A-Line skirt and sleeveless blouse.
“Thank god,” Maia muttered as she climbed quickly into Rose’s rental. Her normally curly, bouncy hair was wild, springing in every direction, and her eyes were smudged with the remnants of mascara. Her mouth was swollen, like she’d had the crap kissed out of her–
“You hooked up,” Rose said wonderingly. “Thierre?”
Maia’s laugh was short and bitter. “I left the bar not long after you and went to his hotel. He was already… occupied. Apparently,” Maia gave a snort that lacked any humor, “he thought we were in an open relationship.”
“Fuck,” Rose breathed, keeping an eye on the road as they headed home but glancing over at Maia in the seat next to her.
“Yeah. So, I left and headed to the bar for some pity drinks–”
“Why didn’t you call?” A touch of hurt colored her voice as Rose frowned. “You know I’d have been there as soon as humanly possible.”
Maia smiled and reached across to grasp one of Rose’s hands. “I know, and I’m so grateful, but I needed to be alone. And I was. For a bit.”
“Maia… if you didn’t hook up with Thierre...” Rose had a sinking feeling she knew who Maia had fallen into bed with.
