“You’re looking pale. What’s up?”
I rub the pinched skin between my brows, trying to drag myself back from the edge of panic. “I think Clare Duffy from the Briar Club might have it out for me now, which?—”
The world fades as my eyes unfocus from my intense concentration. Clare and Jamie were together. If so, did he mention I’d been at his place this morning and imply I’m making a run at him?
Because I’m not paying attention as I pace, my leg bangs against the edge of a low table, making me stumble.Fuck.Catching myself before I land on my knees, I have to release my phone, which clatters across the tabletop.
“Whoa!” Ash shoots to her feet and grabs my arm to steady me.
“I’m okay,” I say, focusing on Ash’s concerned face.
Her grip is surprisingly strong as she pulls me to the couch. “Sit, Seesaw.”
Dropping onto the cushions with athwap, I touch my forehead. I’m surprised it’s not covered in sweat.
As if on cue, I get a text from Clare. She wants to know who I’ve been discussing private club business with.
Sucking on my lower lip, I try to decide how to respond. What I’d really like to do is talk to her face to face. Maybe I could smooth things over before she decides to destroy my chances.
I look over at Ash. “More Clare Duffy trouble.”
“Fuck’s sake.” Ash scowls. “What now?”
When I don’t answer, she cocks her head. “Why do you want to be in that club anyway? Sounds like a pretentious drag.”
“It’s a really big deal to my family. My mom and grandmother were members.” I lick my lips, picking up steam. “Becoming a Briar is critical for me. It’s not just that I need to prove something to the older members of my family—which I very much do because my grandparents expect it and they decide—” I bite off my words, hands shaking. Ash doesn’t need to know everything. “It’s also my last connection to my mom,” I whisper.
Tears burn in my eyes as I try to blink them away. “She used to put her beautiful vintage Briar Club bracelet on my wrist when I was little and tell me about how she’d had big dreams and made them come true. She said I would do the same.” I swallow. “My older brother is the one everyone else pins their hopes on, but my mom believed in me.Completely.” My breath stutters out of me. “In the beginning, I had some problems and she’s the only reason I’ve made it this far. I don’t want to call my getting into the club her dying wish, but… I need to do this.”
Ash’s face takes on a determined expression. “Okay, understood.”
“Look, I want to go to Bruno’s Tavern to talk to Clare before she says something she can’t take back and ruins my chances for good. Can you drive me?”
“Shit, I’ve got a video call with my brother to talk about my mom’s birthday in half an hour. We could go right after.”
“I can’t wait.” I shoot to my feet and Ash follows. “I don’t know how long she’ll be there. Plus, she could be trash-talking me right now.” The last words explode from my lungs like I’m trumpeting them.
Ash’s eyes widen to saucers, then she gives me a tight side hug. “It’s okay. Calm down. Can you drive a stick?”
My brows rise. Ash’s car is her baby and she barely knows me. “I can, but… Are you sure?”
“Yep. I’ve got you.” She grabs my hand and pushes her keys into my palm.
With a rush of emotions, I throw my arms around her, hugging her in a way I haven’t hugged anyone in years. “Thank you so much.”
“If you can, try to be chill when you talk to the bitch. A shark who smells blood in the water just wants to feed more. Be calm, okay? And maybe imply—lightly and with a friendly smile—that you have powerful friends who will not take it well if she fucks with you. That should buy some time.”
Blinking, I open and close my mouth. I’m about to say I’m not sure I’m good enough to bluff Clare who’s a poker player, but then I stiffen my spine. I will be convincing because I have to be. “Right.”
“Good. You’ve got this.”
I nod as she squeezes my arms in support, making me want to hug her all over again. Then, she turns me toward the doors and gives me a small push.
Once I’ve zipped my coat to my chin, I hustle out to the parking lot.
Even in the low light, the Camaro’s gorgeous bright red paint gleams. The thick white racing stripes on the hood are blocky and retro and seem to be trying to push me toward ballsy confidence as I get behind the wheel.
“I’ve got this.” I whisper the words over and over like a mantra.
