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I’ve memorized it at this point.
I’m just about ready to leave when my phone rings, blaring through my bathroom, and my heart all but lurches out of my chest. I immediately assume it’s Izaac calling to tell me this was a terrible mistake, but when I look down, I see that it’s only Becs.
“Just checking in,” she says, not wasting time with stupid greetings. “How’re you doing?”
I roll my eyes. I never told her that Izaac was the guy at Vixen or anything that happened after that, and I sure as hell haven’t told her that I’m meeting up with him tonight. I don’t know why though. I usually tell her everything, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t notice things were off over the past few weeks, and when things are off, she’s smart enough to connect it back to Izaac.
It’s always about Izaac.
“I’m fine,” I say with a groan. “Just like I was fine yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that.”
“Alright, alright,” she says. “Can’t blame a girl for asking. You were practically comatose for two weeks straight. I was worried about you.”
“I know,” I say, leaning toward my bathroom mirror and applying just a little extra mascara. “I really do appreciate that you worry about me. It’s nice knowing you care so much, but really, I’m all good now. I just had a rough patch.”
“Were you ever planning to tell me about this rough patch?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Becs scoffs. “Right. It’s Izaac, isn’t it? Did he do something to hurt you? Because I swear, if he did, I will nut-punch him so hard, and then just for good measure, I’ll nut-punch your brother too, because you know they’re a package deal and all.”
I laugh. “Nobody is getting nut punched. Though, to be fair, if anybody were going to do it, it’d be me. I’ve put in twenty-two years with those assholes. Surely I deserve some kind of long-service reward for my troubles.”
“You know what? You’re right. I’ll organize something,” she says. “We can invite them to your place and then drop the unsuspecting ass-faces right in the hallway.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I laugh.
“Alright,” Becs says. “If you’re sure you’re okay, then I’ll leave you be. I need to crash. I’ve got a huge exam in the morning, and I can’t fuck it up.”
“Okay, get all the sleep you can.”
“I plan on spending all night having sex dreams about your brother, so if you need me, no you don’t,” she laughs.
“Ugh,” I groan. “You’re disgusting.”
“You know it. Love you, Whoreasaurus.”
“Right back at ya, Tittymcgee.”
Becs ends the call, and as I step back and survey myself in my tiny bathroom mirror, I smile. Don’t get me wrong, I feel like a complete bitch for keeping her in the dark with all of this, but not even my shitty friend skills can put a damper on what I’m about to do.
Grabbing my membership card and my phone, I fly out of my bathroom and into my room, finding my favorite knee-high boots to match the little black dress I’ve chosen for tonight. You know, in case easy access is required. Then certain I have everything I need, I fly out the door, hoping like fuck I can somehow get a grip on these nerves.
By the time I arrive at Vixen and make my way down the stairs to meet Casey at reception, I can barely put one foot in front of the other. So much for taking control of myself. I feel like a bumbling idiot. There are still twenty minutes before I’m due to meet Izaac, but a part of me wonders if I should think of him as the faceless stranger.
Oh, God. Am I making a mistake here?
Reaching the bottom step, I find Casey, and as her gaze lifts to mine with a dazzling smile, I watch as uncertainty cuts across her face. Hell, she almost looks annoyed to see me. “Aspen,” she says, her gaze narrowing. “How lovely to see you again.”
Yeah, right.
I stride up to her, unsure what I’m supposed to do. Every time I’ve been here, there’s been a completely different set of circumstances. I fish the membership card out of my handbag and hand it over. “I guess I’m supposed to show you this,” I say, feeling just as awkward as I sound.
Her brows furrow. “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d become a member.”
“I, umm . . . yeah. Izaac organized it for me.”
A deep suspicion flashes in her gaze as she copies the membership number into her computer and checks everything out, but the more she looks, the more irritated she seems to get. “Oh, it seems you have exclusive access to the VIP lounge,” she murmurs before her narrowed gaze lifts to mine. “How do you know Mr. Banks exactly?”
