“I’m only here to meet with a couple of friends.”
“Understood.”
I’m not a full member of the Scarlet Thorn so I can only visit the lounge and bar areas.“If you follow Ms. Callaway, she’ll guide you through the guest lounge to find your friends.”
A woman in a black evening gown draped over ample curves steps into the greeting area and signals for me to follow her. Redhair spills down her lengthy elegant back and her hips attract many onlookers as we move deeper into the Scarlet lounge. Just like the name, the gathering area is either a deep red with accents of tasteful glimmering gold.
“Oh my god! Girl you came?” Kiara’s shriek of excitement startles me and the hostess.
“Thank you, Ms. Callaway. I think my friends have found me.”
I get a soft smile and then I’m left to my evening.
Kiara and Calla both weave through the tables of other guests, their delicate frames beautiful to witness as they carry themselves with learned grace. They are the perfect picture of carefree and rich. Daddy foots the bills and buys them anything they want. Their parents are the people my father keeps close for their money and influence. To me, Calla and Kiara have been what keeps me grounded in real life. If I had one of those, anyway. Not that I would admit it outloud, but I live vicariously through them.
But I also know I can’t trust them with what life is on my side of the fence. They are not grounded in darkness and I can’t bring myself to rip them from all the sunshine and rainbows they think life is made up of.
I lock my knees and brace for impact. Arms come around me and I let the whole evening wash away as they wrap me in their hugs. We grew up together, went to the same boarding school, and swooned over the same boys all the way through junior high. When it came time for high school I was brought home to be tutored in the morning hours and schooled in the evening in all the things my father would need from a dutiful daughter and wife team that would help him get elected.
It sucked and I lost contact with Calla and Kiara for a while.
“Girl, you look like you ran a mile in heels. But that dress. My God you are beautiful.”
Kiara takes my hand and twirls me around to eye the monstrosity my mother squeezed me into.
Her sister stops the twirl and grabs me by the shoulders. “Why are you so smudged? Have you been crying? Who do we have to kill?”
I feel zero emotions right now, but I have to laugh at the protective stance they suddenly take over me.
I shift my shawl back into place. “No, but I would kill for some tequila shots.”
Kiara smiles and I already know she’s got the goods lined up.
“This way, babe.” Calla pulls me back to their table where a couple of guys have joined them for drinks. That doesn’t surprise me one bit. These two are hardcore flirts and I know for a fact they are not as innocent as their daddy wishes.
The second we reach their table, Calla pushes me into a chair opposite her and passes me a compact, a tube of red lipstick and a matching lipliner. I take them gratefully. She flashes me a wink. “I got you, babe.”
Kiara opts to sit in the lap of a blonde man who looks like he just walked off the runway. He’s polished head to toe and looks every bit the aristocrat he wants everyone to think he is. I mean, that’s the vibe I get from him anyway. I never was into pretty boys but I’m happy for my friend.
I force the wrecking ball playing havoc to my insides to stop tearing me apart for one second so I can talk without sounding scared. “Thank you.”
Tequila is pushed in front of me and I grab the shot glass and kick it back.
Burn baby burn. I grit through the heat biting the back of my throat and then put the glass down. It’s refilled instantly and I hit repeat.
“That kind of night, huh?”
Calla eyes my dress and then she looks behind me no doubt wondering where my bodyguards are.
“Everything okay?”
Her words say I care, but her lips are all over her man’s face.
“Yep. Peachy. Who are your guests this evening?”
“You haven’t met Garret and Samson. They’re visiting from Europe.”
I give them a polite wave, but my eyes are on two women walking past our table. They both have red envelopes in their hands and wear a look of mischief across their expressions.
