I gave myself a last once-over. This dress really did fit like a glove. The heels gave me legs to die for, despite my short size. Hopefully, they didn’t kill my feet. I heaved a shaky breath. Tonight, I was going to be a tempting vixen. Tomorrow, I’d go back to being my ball-busting self in baggy pants.
“Wish me luck.”
“You want better than luck.”
Two hours after opening, the club was already bursting. The crowd sang, jumped, and swayed. The latest hyperpop and genre fusion hits thumped and pulsed as I peered around people in search of any sign of Renzo, Tore, or the Iannelli guards around the bar or dance floor. The booths were occupied, and the office upstairs looked empty from the dark contours of blackout windows. Tore didn’t know it, but there was a small scratch on the right side of his office’s glass wall where the tiniest sliver of light came through. It wasn’t visible unless someone knew exactly where to look. Right now, there was no flicker, so they weren’t in the office. Probably in the VIP area, then, or they hadn’t arrived. The question was: Where should I wait so Tore didn’t see me?
I tucked into the curving of the bar corner where it met the wall, lit by ambient bar lighting, rather than PAR and strobe lights. Though the area smelled of spilled liquor, the wooden bartop didn’t stick. The crush of bodies avoided this tiny space, affording me a view of the main entrance and the private rear exit I’d entered from. I ordered a cranberry vodka. Then another.
Thirty minutes went by. Then an hour…and another. Bee texted me incessantly for updates, apparently with Lou cheering me on at her side.
“You sure I can’t get you something else, Ms. D’Amico?” the bartender asked.
I twisted the slice of lime on the rim of my latest drink.
“It’s Burch, Frank. You know that.” My eyes held firm on the entrance and exit.
He pulled another four beers from the tap, glasses clanking. “You got a hot date?”
“Waiting for someone.”
“Ah.”
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. Just, you know. Looks like you got stood up. Sorry, Ms. Burch. It sucks, but we all go through it. Even rich, hot chicks like you, I guess.”
I zoned him out. I preferred clubs that weren’t owned by the famiglia or other mafiosos in town, since the moment I turned twenty-one, Tore spread my picture to all his employees.
“Just don’t tell your boss I’m here.”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m not looking to get fired.”
I held up my black bank card. “You hold off until an hour after he gets here, and you can write yourself whatever tip you want.”
He chuckled. “You got yourself a deal.”
And you’re an idiot, I thought. He accepted that way too quickly, and if Tore ever found out, the guy would lose not only his job but probably a couple of fingers too. My big adoptive brother was the type of guy with a heart of gold fifty percent of the time, but with a couple of screws loose the other fifty, especially when lied to.
I perused the club again. Maybe they weren’t coming. Maybe Tore’s plans that I overheard for Renzo’s welcome-home party had changed. I fiddled with the toothpick full of cranberries from my latest cocktail. Two and a half hours and counting. I let out a heavy sigh. It was time to call it quits.
Just as I stuck a tip beneath my unfinished drink, someone shoved me against the bar. The glass spilled, the liquor draining down the front of my dress.
“For fuck’s sake.” I pinched and squeezed the tight fabric, already sticky between my breasts and down my belly. “Perfect.” What a fantastic end to a wonderful freaking night. The one time I dressed up, this happened.
“You alright?” asked the random assailant at my back. His heavy hand landed on my shoulder, trying to turn me around, strength as curbed as his slurred speech. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“I think not. Frank, cut this guy off.”
“Oh, come on, babe.” The idiot refused to take the hint. “Don’t be like that.”
With a simple grapple and a twist of the hand that had been on me, the guy groaned and tumbled against the bar.
“When a woman says no, she means no. Take the hint, asshole.”
After shoving him off, I forced my way through the throng of bodies to the bathroom. Damn it, there was a long line, and even though I was cleared for VIP access, I preferred not letting Tore know I was here. Desperation for a guy wasn’t a color I wore, ever.
I glanced up at the office. Still no light shining from the damaged sliver. If Tore and Renzo really weren’t coming, then I was going to put my adopted brother’s private bathroom and shower to good use.
