“Fiona…”
“Viv planned it kind of last minute since we didn’t know for sure we’d be getting a new girl today,” Fiona continues, ignoring my feeble protests. “Hard to get people to come down from Miami on such short notice. But go on, have fun! Mingle!”
The main lights are dimmed; in their place are pulsing red bulbs tucked into the ceiling that glow with the beat of the music. Shivers of intimidation travel up my sides as I stare at bodies that lookairbrushed and faces that appear to be ripped from the pages of fashion magazines. There’s an almost-feral vibe to the atmosphere, like everyone is one drink away from tearing at each other with teeth and tongues.
My eyes are torn in a thousand different directions as I watch fashionable, half-naked people sip drinks and dance to the bass music pumping out from the ceiling. I was vaguely aware of the music starting when I was getting dressed, but I assumed the girls were doing a TikTok dance or something.
“Who…whoareall these people?” I stammer.
“Oh, you know, local friends. Mostly Trey’s people. He always travels with a big entourage. I think he brought a bunch of his associates down from Miami.” Fiona peers into the throng of people, and then squeals. “Carl!CARL!Come here, babe!”
“Wait, Trey Bardi ishere?” I ask. “Where?”
Trey is a billionaire. If I do well onEmpress, maybe there’s a chance he’d hire me for a normal job. I could have a real salary, a 401(k), and leave my past behind. I have to meet him.
But Fiona isn’t listening—she’s running forward to meet an absolutely ripped man with skin the color of burnished copper. His face looks like something out of a Renaissance painting; brown hair sways against a sharp jawline. Shiny muscles bulge from a white button-up shirt, and his emerald eyes sparkle as he wraps Fiona up in a hug.
He’s hands down the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in mylife. I suddenly remember why I’m into all genders.
“They don’t make them like that in Wisconsin,” I mutter as the man pulls back and plants a kiss on Fiona’s mouth.
“My lipstick! Babe, don’t!” But she’s giggling as his hand settles on her waist. She pulls him over to me. “Carl, meet our newest queen. This is Charlie.”
“You ready to deal with these crazy girls, Charlie?” His voice sounds like smoky barrooms and slow dancing.
“They’ve been nice so far,” I manage to respond. “What do you do, Carl…”
“Carl Mumford.” He sees the expression on my face and laughs. “I know. I have the name of a stuffy eighty-year-old who collects paintings of horses.”
“I mean, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but…” I reply, unable to help a smile.
“Oh, stop flirting, Carl, and answer the girl’s question,” Fiona says jokingly, poking Carl in the side.
“I’m an entrepreneur,” Carl says, moving closer to me while pulling Fiona into his chest. “I own a few businesses in Miami. Allows me to have enough free time to come see my girl Fee here on the weekends.”
Fiona is looking at him adoringly, and I am reminded of how very single I am. Sage and I always talked about how we didn’t have time for dating. I was working two jobs, three if you count the Instagram page, and Sage was… Well, she told me she was studying and tryingto apply to graduate school, but in reality she was writing, hiding it.
The truth was that Sage was never broke like me. Her father doted upon her, made sure she had everything she needed. We roomed together becauseIneeded a roommate; not because Sage wanted one. She’d been doing me a favor, one she reminded me of often.
Unlike me, Sage had the energy, time, and money to write. Which was how she churned outA Song of Scales and Saltso fast, securing an agent shortly after an unprecedentedly short querying process. Within a month, she had a six-figure book deal.
“You met Trey yet, Charlie?” Carl asks, yanking me back to the present moment.
Right. Trey. My boss. My future. Focus.
I shake my head, scanning the crowd. “No, and I’d love to meet him—”
“Shit.” Fiona stares at something behind me.
I turn, and there, coming down from the top level, is one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen. Even in her current state—long blond hair disheveled, eyes red, weaving slightly on her feet—she is a knockout. Her limbs are tanned a golden brown, her lips are full and pouty, her figure is effortlessly curved. She’s wearing pastel blue linen shorts and a loose white tank top that would look completely frumpy on me. On her, she appears to have stepped out of Fashion Week in Milan.
“Carl, help me get her back upstairs,” Fiona hisses, and the two ofthem disentangle from each other and rush over to the blond girl.
“No, I’m allowed to be here. It’s myhome,” the girl snaps as Fiona takes her arm and whispers something in her ear. “What are you gonna do? Push me overboard if I don’t go?”
Fiona goes rigid, and Carl takes over. I can’t hear what he says to her, the girl who must be the mysterious Piper, but she goes limp and allows him to turn her back to the stairs.
“I belong here,” Piper says again, slurring. “Please. I want to see real people. I want to be with real people.”
