“You sure?”
“Yep. It’s just costume. So, if you lose it, no biggie.”
—
WE ALL PILEDinto Margot’s Mercedes with Callie behind the wheel.
“She could make this drive in her sleep,” Jill chirped from the back seat. “She has a condo in Turtle Creek. We sometimes make a weekend of it, shop, go out, and crash there. But we’re coming back tonight, right, Margot?” she asked, leaning into the front seat. “You know I have to take Brad to practice in the morning. He’s still not cleared to drive. Oh, and Abby—that’s Brad’s girlfriend,” she said, turning to me, “asked me to take her prom dress shopping tomorrow afternoon! Isn’t that adorable? Her parents are religious nuts and she doesn’t want her mom to pick something out so she asked me! Justloveher.”
Margot gave her the thumbs-up and passed her an empty wineglass.“Refill, please.” No one else would have noticed it, but when Jill mentioned Brad and Abby, I saw Margot’s jaw tighten.
—
JILL PULLED ANicy bottle of chardonnay from the cooler and topped everyone off.
Callie wove through downtown Dallas, her eyes locked straight ahead onto the snaking traffic until we arrived in front of Club Havana. We left the car with the valet and hurried inside.
Inside, the club was a dark cave with multiple levels of dance floors and VIP areas roped off with red velvet cables. Loud, pulsing music. Latin music on steroids.
Margot nodded to the maître d’ and we were shown to a private booth with a bottle already resting in a bucket of ice on the wide, circular table. We all slid around it, and Margot nudged in next to me. After we toasted our first glass of champagne, she slung her arm around me.
Callie fumed watching her, and after a few minutes, stormed off to the dance floor with Tina and Jill in her wake.
Margot refilled my glass, pushed it toward me.
“Fun place, right?”
“Very cool.”
Margot slipped a lock of raven hair—polished by the loud lights—behind an ear, and I felt her leg graze mine. My pulse jittered and my breath grew shallow. I wanted to turn to her, stare into her eyes, and try to read her, but Callie returned with a well-dressed group of men.
Margot slinked out of the booth and introduced herself. They were all Russian, they explained, in town for business. They crowded themselves into the booth while flagging down the waiter.
They ordered the most expensive bottle of vodka available, and for the next hour, we all did shots. I was surprised at how little like alcohol the vodka tasted, but my eyes were beginning to swim, so I switched to water.
—
MARGOT WAS SANDWICHEDbetween me and one of the men—he said his name was Andre, and he was at least six foot two with jet-black hair and flecked hazel eyes. A strong chin and chiseled cheeks. Movie-star handsome.
At one point, Margot rested her hand on my knee and didn’t move it.
I could feel the violence of Callie’s stare, but when I looked up, she simply smirked at me as one of the Russians, blond and edgily handsome, nibbled at her ear.
Andre tilted the vodka bottle toward my shot glass, but I covered it with my hand, shook my head.
“I’m getting a little tired of the vodka, too,” Callie snorted, and floated up from the booth. She disappeared toward the bar.
Margot’s hand was still on my knee, and she leaned in and whispered, “Ooooh, Callie’s doing something nice for you.”
Heat flooded my body, and Andre watched us hungrily.
Callie returned with two slender tumblers stuffed with mint and sugarcane.
“Here, drink this,” she said, placing one down in front of me. “It’s a mojito.”
She took a sip, licked her matte-red lips, and watched me.
I took a long pull through the black straw, and the sugary drink coated my mouth. Itwasa nice change from the vodka.
