She winks. “Herbalist.”
“So, Lana. Why do you always have someone shadowing you?” Scarlett asks, eyeing John, who’s nursing a water at the far side of the bar. “Are you a celebrity or something?”
Some lady holds up her phone, and I cringe. I’ve been made. It’s a miracle the girls haven’t figured out I’m fromtheAnderson family yet.
Aria tosses a napkin onto her camera. “Dude. Privacy, please.”
She squeezes between us and blocks her view.
“It’s complicated,” I reply, finishing the rest of my drink. “I’m from a big family. Bodyguards come standard.”
Scarlett squints. “Hold on. Your last name’s Anderson. Bodyguards. Big family. Shit.” She elbows Aria, who’s bopping to the beat of the music. “Lana’s the Anderson princess!”
“Huh?” Aria stops. Her mouth drops open. “That’s why you look familiar! Oh my God, didn’t you marry some mobster?”
I sigh. But friendships should be based on honesty.
“Complicated,” I grumble.
“I’ll say,” Aria hooks her arm through mine. Scarlett takes the other. “Doesn’t matter, you’re still awesome. Let’s dance our troubles away!”
She drags us toward the dance floor. Scarlett tugs my arm, slowing my steps.
“Hey,” she whispers, her eyes kind, “we’re here for you. Whatever’s going on. No judgment. And if your ‘complicated situation’ needs to be uncomplicated…I might have some deadly belladonna.”
I snort and squeeze her hand.
Five songs later, my feet ache and my voice is hoarse from laughing. I’ve learned that Aria can’t handle her alcohol, which she blames on the Asian glow, as she’s a quarter Korean. She also has a penchant for bad boys, but Blake is her exception. Scarlett has a big family like me. She may be whimsical, but her mind is sharp.
I’ve found my gang.
We invent a ritual. A good book, a perfect drink, and a dare whenever we feel down.
The bass drops, and the crowd surges. For the first time since the wedding, I feel light as a bird.
Until pressure builds in my bladder.
“Going to the restroom. Be right back!” I holler at the girls.
“Want company?” Scarlett asks.
“No, I’m fine. Stay here; have fun.”
John moves to follow, but I shake my head and point to the restroom, which is well within his sightlines.
He nods and goes back to drinking his water.
I make my way tothe back, passing by a spiral staircase cordoned off by a velvet rope. Two towering men with hard eyes and dark suits stand in front of it, their hands resting near their holsters.
Something’s happening on the second floor.
I duck into the restroom and complete my business in the stall when voices drift in.
“They won’t let us go up there.” Two girls walk in.
“VIPs?”
“I think so. The two single Berisha brothers are with their crowd.”
