Aye, I’ll be ending it tonight.
“Darling, is that your little sister there?” Celia leans closer, pointing at the unmistakable mass of red hair that could only belong to Maisie. She’s making her way through the club, hauling her boyfriend along behind her like a trawler breaking through the ice in the Antarctic. Behind them, there’s a glitter of silver and-
Is that Sophie?
Sweet, wee Sophie, who’s dressed like a siren tonight in a short, shiny dress that’s showing off her long legs. A wee bit too much thigh, in fact, based on the eejit grin the bawbag holding her hand is wearing. He keeps glancing down at her lean legs, distracted, and nearly running her into other clubbers. Her chestnut hair flows down her back in waves and she’s wearing more makeup than I’ve seen on her before, dark lips and sultry eyeshadow that makes her eyes turn silver. The result is aggressively, distractingly exotic.
I disapprove. Sophie’s more than desirable with just her usual fresh-faced look. I dinnae like her unleashing this on the suited bampot who’s gripping her hand.
It’s not your fecking call, ye arsehole.
“Oh, itisMaisie,” Celia purrs, “is that her new boyfriend? We do need to decide if he’s good enough for her.”
I look down at her, raising a brow.“We?I dinnae think ye need to be approving of my sister’s dates.”
She flushes red and presses her lips together for a minute before returning to her usual serene smile. “Of course, I just thought-”
“Michael!” Maisie spots me and begins waving madly, like a one winged hawk trying to take off. “We’re coming up!”
I barely dodge another one of my sister’s big, sloppy kisses designed to leave a smear of lipstick all over my face. “Maisie love, I’d not thought Dr. Kenborn would let you out on a prized weekend night.”
She grins, “Ye dinnae want to know what I had to do to get it, but I’m desperate for some fun! I even got Sophie out and away from her books.”
“So ye did.” My gaze moves to Sophie, who surprisingly, is not looking at all pleased to see me. “Introduce us to your friends.”
“This is Miles Webster,” Maisie plows on. She points to her date. He’s wearing a nervous grin and an expensive suit.
“Hello,” he says, hastily offering a hand to shake mine. “My firm handles some of the MacTavish accounts, it’s nice to meet ye at last, your family’s reputation in the financial world is-” I briskly shake his hand to end the sucking up and turn to Sophie again.
“And your date tonight is…?” My tone is harder than I’d intended and her brows draw together in a wee frown.
“Bryce Anderson,” he steps into the awkward conversational gap. “I work with Miles at Webster Capital. A pleasure.” I take his hand, squeezing harder than is really needed but I enjoy the pained look he tries to hide as Sophie looks on disapprovingly.
“Hey brother, stop trying to break the poor man’s fingers and offer us a drink, aye?” Maisie says, breaking the stalemate.
“Of course,” I say smoothly, “where are my manners? Gentlemen, this is thelovelyCelia Montrose.” My sister looks like she’s trying to hide a dry heave as both men mumble their pleasantries. Celia stretches out, claiming territory as the two couples join us by plastering herself closer to me and resting her chin on my shoulder.
Sophie and her date are sitting directly across from us while Maisie burrows into my right side, Miles sitting stiffly on her left. “Who do I have to stab to get a drink around here?” Maisie asks loudly.
With a sigh, I nod at one of the girls hovering in the corner by the VIP bar.
“Ach, that’s so cute!” Maisie says, admiring the cocktail server’s little dress and pillbox hat, modeled to fit the speakeasy theme. “I love the outfits.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence again as I stare at Sophie’s arsehole of a date. He’s sniffing nervously like he’d taken a hit of something in the car ride over. She’s sitting a discreet distance away from him, far enough to make it clear this is a first date and she’s already a wee bit disappointed with him.
Good.
Looking at Maisie and seeing no help there, Sophie tries to break my staring match with her date. “So, um. Did you know that speakeasy clubs actually came about in the 1920’s because of Prohibition in the US? Illegal, hidden bars popped up so people could still get their bootleg liquor during the nationwide ban.”
“Really,” Bryce murmurs, not quite staring down the neckline of her dress.
“Aye, dinnae ye tell me that was the beginning of organized crime in the States?” Maisie says with a taunting wee grin at me. I’m not concerned about her outing the real business of the MacTavish Clan, her boyfriend’s firm launders money for us.
“That’s true,” Sophie says, glancing at me uncomfortably, “the criminals who were the most organized before Prohibition were actually the political bosses. They told the street thugs what to do. But once liquor became so wildly profitable, mobstersstepped in, running bootlegging operations. They made crazy money, they had to hire accountants, and lawyers to launder all the cash piling up each month.”
“Just like you’ll be doing, aye, boys?” Maisie asks happily.
The finance bros look acutely uncomfortable as she grins at them and Sophie stares at my cheerful sister, widening her eyes meaningfully.
