This could actually work.
Koen goes quiet for a moment, and I know he’s watching her, analyzing her moves, reading her in the way only he can.
“She’s approaching him now,” he says eventually. “She’s got that look… that confidence. Not forced, either. Natural.”
I swallow, my grip on the phone tightening as I close my eyes, trying to picture it.Her. Even though I have no idea what she looks like.
“What’s she doing now?” I ask, perhaps too soon to come off as casual. I even consider asking him to send a photo of what’s happening, but I refrain. My curiosity is starting to get the better of me.
“She’s not overdoing it. Casual, like she’s just there for a drink. I’ll try to get closer to hear what they say when she starts talking him up.”
The sound gets muffled again, and all I can do is wait.
God, I hate waiting.
Jinx yawns, stretching one paw out, then tucks it back under herself, entirely unimpressed by the unfolding drama.
“He’s not paying her any mind yet.” Koen sucks in a breath. “Wait… there it is. Fuck me, that was a bold move. She just demanded he look at her. And he did.”
“She did what?”
What the fuck?
Maybe she isn’t what we need after all. Can’t have her go around and fuck shit up for us with her conceitedness.
“She’s telling him what to do. And… holy shit… he’s doing it.” Koen’s voice is tinged with something that almost sounds like admiration. “His body language changed. He’s curious now, leaning in. She’s…got him. He’s standing there like a deer caught in headlights, and now I can see it too.” Koen huffs a laugh. “Oh my God, he’sintothat shit.”
She figured that out before Koen did?
“Sounds like she’s better than you thought?”
“She’s better thanyouthought,” he retorts with a hint of amusement. “He’s giving her his card. Jesus, she’s even got him writing down another number on it. Probably his private one like you wanted.”
Impressive.
“What now? Is she leaving?”
“No, she’s… holy shit,” Koen’s voice cracks with disbelief. “She called him agood boy.”
I can’t help it. My lips twitch, and a laugh bursts free. “No way.”
“I swear to God. He’s eating it up. He handed her his card. And… yeah, she’s walking away. Ric, she’s got it.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck indeed.” There’s a moment of static, then urgency. “Wait… she’s darting off. I gotta move, or I’ll lose her.”
“Crowded on the Strip?”
“When is it not?”
My phone buzzes in my hand, vibrating against my palm. I glance down, and the image of Belmont’s business card fills the screen, his scrawled handwriting adding a number and a hasty ‘call me’ on the back.
Ew.
The word slips into my mind unbidden, my lip curling.
What a desperate fuck.
