Lamé smiles, finally looking away. “So. You and Zion played—finally. My goddess, you two took long enough to—”
Max clears her throat and I blink down at the glass in my hand.
“Okay.” Lamé puts down their drink, the wide glass straw clinking loudly against the side, while Etta James eases into a song about how her lover’s changed. “What’d Zion do this time?”
“He didn’t…” Shaking my head, I take a huge sip of mojito. Anything to push back the moment of actually having to think about what I did in that pitch-black room. “Holy crap, this is good.”
Lamé smiles.
After another fortifying dose of what’s possibly the best cocktail I’ve ever had, I talk. “The glory thing. It’s all my fault.”
“Debatable,” mutters Max.
I sip some more, at a total loss as to how to explain what’s actually happened in the last two days, and then it just emerges. “Why did he marry me? You know? Why, out of the blue would the world’s biggest star ask me to—”
Shit. Nobody knows about the marriage being fake. We signed NDAs. I can’t go talking about it like this.
“The marriage of convenience thing?” Lamé sighs. “I love it so much.”
So much for the NDA. “You…knew about that?”
“We’re pretty close.”
I blow out a hard breath. “Does…does everyone know?”
“Ididn’t know,” says Max, her thin brows lifted in surprise, her mouth pursed around the straw, through which she’s quickly emptying her beverage. “This isamazing.”
“Crap. I hope you’ll—”
Max waves. “Oh, cone of silence, honey. We don’t out our own people.”
“Or anyone,” adds Lamé.
“That’s…good.” Feeling a little messy and a little loose, I take another long sip and lean back with a sigh.
“Well, whatever bad decisions brought you here.” Lamé offers up a plate of what look like freshly-baked scones. “In my mind you’ve always been kinky.”
I take one and bite in. “Oh, I’m not… Holy shit, this is good.” Looking up, I catch them both watching me, their expressions pointed. “Why did you think I was kinky?” Wait…amI kinky? Is that how you’d define it?
“Are you?”
“You know what I think,” Max says to Lamé.
“Max believes that everyone’s got a kink in there somewhere. Hidden or not.”
“I’ve seen hundreds of therapy patients, okay?” Max grabs a little sandwich and gesticulates with it. “Trust me. We’veallgot something.” She smiles at me. “Glory holes, for example, are a very specific—”
I need to make sure these two never meet Gigi or it’ll turn into a circus. A really fun circus, but still. Especially if she tells them about the ex-boyfriend. And the ravishment thing. And every little filthy fantasy I’ve had since I was a teenager. “Shit.” I slurp the remainder of my drink.
“Knew it.” Lamé leans in to refill my mojito from a crystal pitcher.
“How?” I ask, bewildered as to how a total stranger has this kind of insight into my inner workings.
“He owes me,” they say to Max.
I’m so lost. “Who?”
“Zion. I bet him you were a deviant. Just to bug him, really.” Their eyes slide toward Max. “And, you know, like Max says, We’re all something.”
