“Want to get a drink together?” she asked.
I scanned the room again and this time found Cole, her hand somewhere under the table, body turned toward the blonde.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
Iona smiled and turned as she walked past me, holding her hand out.
I took her hand and allowed her to lead me through the crowd.
At the bar, she pushed her way into a space, and I watched as she demanded the attention of an overrun bartender after she turned and pulled me closer to the bar.
“Shots?” I asked, two shot glasses of clear liquid in front of us.
“Not your thing?” she asked.
I heard what sounded like Cole’s laughter across the bar, somehow making its way to my ears, cutting through all the noise.
I reached past her and grabbed a shot glass, downing the burning liquid.
“Whoa, yeah!” Iona cheered and took the other glass, downing it similarly.
She called for two more and turned to me.
“Is the rumour true?” she asked.
“What rumours?” I asked as the bartender poured two more shots.
“That you’re Colette Sandstorm’s plaything?” she asked.
I reached forward and took the second shot.
“Where did you hear that?” I asked after downing the shot and laughing.
“I should have known it was horseshit when I heard it,” she said and drank her shot.
I stumbled a little where I stood, catching myself against the bar.
“Why should you have known?” I asked.
“Don’t take it personally, but you’re not her type,” Iona told me.
“And you know her type?” I asked, looking Iona over, still trying to decide what I made of her.
“Don’t take it personally,” she said and waved the bartender over for two more. “She just prefers them taller and blonder. Everyone knows that.”
I downed the shot.
“Hey, don’t look so hurt, fuck. It’s not you. Every girl she takes home is like a carbon copy of Hannah.” When I looked at her with confusion, she continued. “The ex-fiancé, who’s apparently sunning it up on some island getaway that her daddy paid for. Doesn’t look like she’s coming back; been gone for over a year now.”
“Do you know her?” I asked.
“Nah, not really. Only in passing. Cole brought her around to a lot of gatherings; they were together for five or six years,” she explained.
“What Pack was she?” I asked.
“Human, some hotel heiress or something,” she answered and drank her third shot. “More?” she asked.
“Yeah!” I answered and cringed; I hadn’t meant to shout.
