“Oh, come on,” Chloe said. “You don’t have to hide things. I don’t really care. I’m just here to relax before I go back to dance.”
Reluctantly, I flashed them my screen. Charles Hodder’s headshot from his website was on display.
Chloe squinted at the photo, then her face lit up. “Oh, my God. I know that guy.”
“You do?” Skye asked.
“Yeah, he tried to match with me the other day, but when I told him I was more gay than not, he got totally homophobic, and that is not the vibe in this town.”
She pulled out her phone, began clicking, then turned her screen to show me Charles’s dating profile.
“What app is that?” Skye said, pulling out her phone. She glanced at me briefly as she downloaded the app Chloe told her to. “Is that your guy?”
I peered over and, upon a quick glance, nodded. In five minutes’ time, Skye had downloaded the app, made an account under a fake name, and matched with Charles. She set her phone down, gave Chloe a triumphant look, then directed her attention to me.
“There we go. Once he messages me, I’ll get details.” She put her arm around Chloe and pulled her in, kissing the new woman.
I looked away as they shoved their tongues into each other’s mouths. When she pulled away for a breath, she looked at Chloe and gave her a lame excuse as to why we needed to see Charles.
“Charles backed into my friend’s car and won’t answer his calls now.”
“Girl, I don’t care. Let’s go dance.”
The two scooted out of the booth, and before Chloe could pull her away, Skye leaned down to wink at me.
“Sebastian, you go in my place, or I’ll go with you, and then you can ambush him. I told you, Evie isourFinal Girl, and she’s not going anywhere.”
Chapter 45
Sebastian
The Photo Op
“Are you sure you’re okay with this? We’re going to be close by the whole time.”
I checked in with Skye for the umpteenth time before we took separate cars to the restaurant.
“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “We purposely chose a public place, remember? Charles can’t do anything without having a hundred eyes on him at any given time. I’m just gathering intel today.”
“And if he tries anything, sock him in the nose.” Evie put her fists up and punched the air a few times. She’d spent the night before with Bryce, learning better ways to punch and kick and swing her knives. Bryce had a slice running up his arm—that makeup wasn’t going to be happy with—to prove that she was still working on her craft.
“I’m a lover, Evie, not a fighter. But I’ll use my strengths to make sure you get to use yours.”
“I’d hardly call them strengths.” Tonight made me nervous. Evie had been warned to slow down, but she didn’t seem to be listening. It wasn’t safe to just rush through things, and I hadn’t told her about my encounter with Elliott Bradley—it would only serve to piss her off further. She was hellbent on revenge, not only for Lita but Antoinette now too. And while I understood the rage, I knew this was a long game. Rushing was only going to make us sloppy. Sloppy was what got you caught.
Evie didn’t care.
“You don’t have to be involved,” Evie pointed out. “No one is forcing you to come tonight.”
I smirked and reached for her, threading my arm through hers and directing her to my car. “And miss the opportunity to take you on a real, certifiable date? Fat chance, Final Girl.”
A small smile teased the edges of her mouth as I opened the door. She slid inside, and I waved to Skye and went to my side.
“We’ll see you there.” I got into the car and drove off toward the semi-upscale restaurant Charles had picked, most likely to impress Skye. As someone who’d gone to many very exclusive and expensive restaurants in this town, I knew this place was mediocre. This was where rich men took their hookups to look like they were putting in effort…without shelling out enough money to mean anything.
Our reservation was thirty minutes before Skye and Charles’s. We walked in and looked around. The walls were dark green, with black curtains draped over the window. Standing candelabras were placed between the windows, along with dozens of fake white roses. String music played lightly over the speakers, giving it an upscale Olive Garden appeal. The hostess recognized me and offered us a seat in the back.
“There’s privacy, if you’d prefer to dine alone.” She gave us a knowing look.
