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He ran a finger over the ridged gold metal and read the writing on the face. “A Rolex?”
A grim feeling weighed heavy in my chest. It had been Dad’s. I plastered a casual smile onto my face. “I know. It’s awful, isn’t it? It’s so gaudy. I got it in a goodie bag at some award ceremony. Not my style.”
The man’s eyes lit with greed. “How much is it worth?”
“More than twenty grand.”
More like a hundred.
Violet’s fingers curled around my arm. “It’s too much. You don’t have to do that.”
The man pulled out his phone and tapped the keys. Blue light lit his mean features as he scrolled.
Violet shook her head. “I can’t let you do this … I don’t know what to say. It’s too much. I’ll pay you back.”
“It’s fine. I hate that watch.”
Her shoulders slumped with relief. “Are you sure?”
The man transferred his gaze from his phone to the girl in the mask. “We’re square.”
No shit. At least he wasn’t as stupid as he looked.
She swallowed. “Really? It’s over?”
“Yup.” He slipped the watch onto his wrist and held it out to admire it. “You were right about one thing. You’re not a dancer. I’d stick to the foot—”
“Great,” she blurted. She took my arm and pulled me away. “Thank you. Why don’t you go and get a drink at the bar.”
“No. I’m done. Let’s get you home. My driver will take you.”
Her eyes widened. “No.” Her voice rose an octave. “I don’t want that.”
I held my hands up. “I need to make sure you get home safely. I’m not hitting on you.”
She shook her head. “I have someone waiting for me outside. Thank you again. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
She adjusted her mask and fled.
Chapter 16
Miri
“Ittickles.Areyoudone yet?”
Frankie tutted in annoyance and dragged the kohl pencil over my eyelid, finishing her precise flicks. She tilted my chin with her finger and squinted at her handiwork, her voice a terse whisper. “Shut up and keep still. Perfection takes time.”
I hadn’t worried at all about what to wear to Gabe’s party until Frankie had found me pulling a pair of jeans out of my wardrobe and had insisted that she save me. She’d been wanting to give me a makeover and relive some 1990s teen makeover montage fantasy her whole life, and she’d grabbed her opportunity in both hands.
She blotted a smudge on my cheek and beamed. “All done. You look incredible.”
I tugged the neckline of the black cocktail dress in the mirror. It was backless. I’d never had much up top, but what I did have was barely contained. It was a beautiful dress, and about as revealing as the one I’d worn last night in the strip club. Frankie had always had expensive taste. I felt like a kid playing dress up. I may as well have been wearing a tutu and slippers.
“It’s too over the top. This is not me.”
Frankie curled my last lock of hair, and it fell hot from the curling iron onto my bare shoulder. “Of course it’s not you, that’s why it’s good.”
A laugh escaped me. “Thanks.”
