Meela throws up her hands in frustration. “For the millionth time, Zeus knows I’m coming. I’m here to see Jigsaw.”
“Mm-hmm.” He cocks an eyebrow, his steel-gray gaze landing on me. “What about her?”
“She’s with me.” Meela cocks her own eyebrow. “Jig is waiting on me. You don’t want to get on his bad side, trust me.”
He sighs but opens the door and waves us inside. “Be good.”
“Being good is for pussies.” She winks at him and struts into the building.
“I’m gonna regret this,” he mumbles under his breath.
I traipse in behind her, literally shaking in my high heels.
What in the actual fuck?
Naked women strutting around in stilettos everywhere, drugsbeing consumed openly, carnal happenings in dark corners, and everything in between.
I scurry next to her. “Do you think we should be here right now?”
“Yeah,” she replies, scrunching her face at me. “Why not?”
“Because,” I sweep my arm in a wide arc, “the live-action porn setup is freaking me out.”
She rolls her eyes. “Relax, we’re going to have an amazing time.”
I highly doubt that.
“There he is,” Meela whispers close to my ear, her hand clasping onto my arm in a death grip.
I stiffen, prepared to make a swift exit if necessary. “Who?”
“Jigsaw.” She sighs, her eyelashes fluttering dramatically. “The man I’m going to marry.”
“There are a lot of men here,” I deadpan. “Mind being a little more specific?”
She points to a group of men sitting at a table. “The one with the scars on his face.”
“What happened?” I ask, jolted by his appearance.
“Don’t know, but the scars make him twenty million times sexier.” She licks her lips, eyeing him like a popsicle on a hot summer day.
“Um… isn’t he old enough to be your father?”Or grandfather.
“Haven’t you heard?” Meela smiles cheekily, doing the finger-in-the-hole gesture. “The older the dick, the harder the stick.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re something else.”
“Let’s sit over there.” She nods at the booth directly across from where her future husband is sitting. “The silver fox with the beard is Zeus.”
Sandman’s father. He’s too busy fingering the woman perched on his lap to notice us, but Jigsaw’s glowering gaze is glued to Meela. If looks could kill… she has to feel his eyes on her, but she’s doing a good job of not letting it show. It’s obvious they have history.
I sit opposite her. “Unless you were held back a grade, I’m guessing you aren’t actually eighteen.”
“You would be correct.”
“What’s up with the birthday sash?”
“Tell you when I get back.” She sashays to the bar with a little extra razzle dazzle in her steps, but the man she’s being extra for doesn’t look too happy.
