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I’d offered to drive everyone home since I hadn’t drunk as much as they had, and there was no way Tiffany could have waited for a car service to pick them up from the corner. After the interruption from being caught up in Stolas, I was stone-cold sober.
Tiffany sulked in the back seat during the drive to her apartment, huffing and whining that Rhomi had ruined the night that could have changed her life. The guy she had been dancing—or rather dry-humping—with had been whispering promises in her ear all night. When Rhomi freaked out on Oro, Tiffany hadn’t had time to get his name or number.
Jordan offered to stay with Tiffany and assured us that they would tuck Tiffany in with a large water bottle and call Rhomi in the morning.
Rhomi still lived with her father in the Hills. His house was twice the size of my father’s and surrounded by a stone wall.
Rhomi punched in the code for the gate then asked down to my car window, “Do you want to stay the night? It would be like old times.”
I’d had enough of trying to relive our past friendship. I wanted to get out of this dress and wash my face.
“Thanks, but I should get back home. I have a long day tomorrow.”
She pouted her lips then stood up fully. “Okay, but don’t be a stranger. Shopping next week. It’s a demand.”
I smiled and watched her walk through her gate up to the front door before I backed out of her driveway and headed home.
It was another night of driving the streets of L.A. alone and heading back to an empty apartment with a vague plan to possibly see someone outside of work that felt more like an obligation than an adventure. I was second-guessing my choice to come back more and more. But that caged feeling around my lungs constricted to remind me that I had no other choice. This was my existence because it had to be.
* * *
Iwas making myself breakfast when my phone flashed my father’s name on an incoming call.
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” I said around a mouthful of oatmeal.
“Evelyn, I got a call from an associate this morning telling me that he saw you at one of those sleazy nightclubs last night with Oro. You better have a good explanation as to why you would be hanging around a grown man at a nightclub.”
“If it was so sleazy, why was your associate there in the first place?” I snipped back, setting my bowl down on the counter. I leaned against it to wait for his rebuttal.
“Don’t take that tone with me,” he scolded. “How could you be so careless with my campaign on the line?”
“I’m an adult whether your public knows it or not. And I didn’t go there with Oro. I went with some friends. We ran into him and his brothers there. That’s it.”
The anger bubbling to my skin’s surface rattled my core. The last time he’d yelled at me was when I was home on a holiday break from school and backed into a parking meter with his new car. That was years ago, yet the tone in his voice brought me right back to feeling like a stupid, careless teenager.
“Stay away from Oro and his whole company. Family. Whatever they are. They are not good people.”
My head pounded as reason found its way to my tongue. “Then why do you know them well enough to invite them to your fundraiser at your home?”
“They have deep pockets, but their hands are as dirty as they come. This discussion is over. Never again, do you hear me?”
I didn’t answer.
I hung up and slammed the phone facedown on the kitchen counter. A sigh dragged out of me and built into a frustrated shout. It bounced off the walls of my kitchen and into the living room before it faded to silence. I marched to my room and got dressed, determined to escape my own mind for a couple hours.
Before leaving, I grabbed the purse I’d had with me at the club last night and pulled out my wallet. With it came the small matte-black card.
Sy Luxe
The Deacon
Owner
On the back were three words that looked to be Latin.
Loquere, et introire
Was this the invitation that Rhomi had talked about and the item Jordan had flashed at the beginning of the night?
