“Remy’s paying. They got creeped out at the opera house, so he moved all operations.”
“Ah.” I lift a brow. “The dark angel resurfaced? I thought we’d seen the last of her when it closed down.”
Meg’s eyes cloud, just for a second. “Yeah. She’s back. She hasn’t hurt anyone, but she’s overseeing things like a boss bitch, from what I can tell.” She tilts her head. “How did the concert go?”
“Great until I got home. Eviction notice. They sold the building. I’ve got two weeks to get out.” I take a long drink before reaching for the pitcher. “I’m debating whether it’s worth paying a lawyer just to force the full thirty days.”
Meg winces. “Ouch. Shit. What are you going to do? It takes forever to find a decent place around here.”
I shrug. “I can afford it. The settlement. The interest is enough I don’t need to touch their blood money.” I take a deep gulp of my margarita and pretend the sting behind my eyes is the burn of the drink.
Meg reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.
“I can afford to do something,” I add. “I just haven’t been ready to. And now it feels like I don’t get a choice.”
The server drops a towering plate of nachos between us. Melted cheese. Pulled pork. Mango. My mouth floods.
Meg must be thinking the same thing because we both dive in, conversation suspended until the first few bites settle.
“Good pick,” she mumbles, wiping her fingers. She scans the plate, hunting for the perfect cheese-to-pork ratio.
“You want options on the whole apartment thing,” she says lightly, “or do you want me to leave you alone to figure it out?”
I tilt my head. “If you hear of something, tell me. Otherwise…” I shrug.
“You know you could stay with me, but…”
I laugh. “Your mom and I clash a little too hard.”
She snorts. “You don’t clash. She bosses, you nod, then do whatever you were going to do anyway. She bitches at me. I whine to you. It’s a system.”
I roll my glass between my palms. “I’m sorry.”
She arches an eyebrow and takes a long sip.
I look away. “I shouldn’t have pulled back the way I did. I haven’t been there for you. At all.” I hesitate. “Why aren’t you dancing anymore?”
Her gaze slides off mine, expression shuttered. “Drink up,” she says. “Then come stay with me tonight at the hotel.”
Chapter twenty-five
Christianna
We pour out of the elevator. Arms around each other as we push-pull in uncoordinated movements, but still arrive at her hotel door.
“Shhh,” she hisses seriously, which is completely ruined by a hiccup.
I snort a laugh.
Our messy buns have not held up, and my dark curls obscure my vision as a door across the hall opens.
“Meg?” A pause. “Christianna?”
An impatient huff, and a dark masculine hand reaches out to take Meg’s purse as he grabs her card key and swipes us in.
“I’ll order you water and Advil,” he tells us wryly, which causes a spate of giggles.
He gently pushes us into Meg’s penthouse suite as the door closes behind us.
