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“Did you find out if she was ever there?”
“Leticia said afterward that she was somewhere else entirely. She never even knew about that party. Someone was just winding Raisa up. For no reason she can figure out.”
“What happened after they took those pictures?” Jenna asked. “You just left?”
He put his beer down, fighting the nausea. That sickening perfume stench filled his nose, even though he knew it was just a memory. Cold sweat broke out on his back. He couldn’t seem to breathe. His heart was pounding triple time.
“Could we not talk about this anymore?” he said abruptly. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”
Jenna looked taken aback. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. Won’t mention it again.”
Damn. He’d screwed up again. “Sorry,” he said. “I just—”
From the back room, someone with a mic announced the next set. Drew was grateful for the distraction. “We better get in there.”
“Sure, but one second. Let me do something first.” Jenna took her cocktail napkin, pressed one of her ice cubes against it and swabbed his cheek gently. “Cherise left a big red lipstick stamp on your cheek when she kissed you. Can’t let another woman put her mark on my man.”
The Jenna effect zapped through him at her touch, even through the cold, soggy cocktail napkin. “You’re just telling me about this lipstick stamp now?” he complained. “You just let me walk around in here like that?”
“Sorry.” She looked like she was trying not to smile. “Let’s go listen to Roddy, now that you’re decent.”
Decent, ha. Drew followed her closely through the crowd as they made their way through the various rooms and toward the stage. Little did she know.
In his current state, he felt anything but decent.
