I stand. “Now, let’s talk about something more fun. Where are we going for this bachelorette party you insisted I needed?”
“To a hot Caribbean club called Culture. Your man sent his private jet to pick up Gracie and Saaha for the weekend,” she arches her brow.
“How did you convince Gracie to come to Boston?”
Tasha grins. “I’m an attorney, negotiated, of course. Told Gracie Thomas would be with the guys, and it’d just be the four of us. Ari, I can’t wait to see their faces when you try to teach them how to Dutty wine.”Of course, Lucilla isn’t coming. Tasha doesn’t miss things like that. I don’t comment, but I notice.
“And I can’t wait to see them do it,” I grin. “It’s going to be very good, or we’ll be so drunk we’ll think it’s good. Either way, I’ll be laughing my ass off.”
Tasha folds her arms. “True that.” Then her expression shifts, curiosity lighting her eyes. “So… what’s the deal with Cyan’s brother, Collin?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your man is a ruthless bastard, but his brother?” She lowers her voice. “He’s got the aura of a leashed demon.”
I snort. “You got all that from a few interactions?”
Tasha tugs at one of her recently dyed blonde dreadlocks ends, twisting the end around her finger. “From our first interaction… I’m serious, Ari. He does and says everything right, but his eyes. There’s no warmth there. His laughter never reaches them. I’ve got this feeling that if Cyan weren’t around to keep him anchored, Boston would drown in blood.”
I shake my head. “You saw those things, and you still hit him with Trevor.”
She shrugs. “Ari, you know one of my mottos. Fake it till you make it, and, girl, you only live once.” Tasha’s tone is a little too casual.
Thinking back to every time those two are in the same room. The way Collin’s gaze tracks her studying, testing, pushing her buttons–like he’s mapping her limits. I wonder if Tasha notices. Or maybe she does, and that’s exactly why she keeps provoking him. Or maybe I’m overthinking it.
Later that evening, we’re both dressed and ready when the elevator dings. The doors slide open, and my eyes widen. The transformation is… startling.
Saaha or Doc, as we now call her, steps out first, looking like the Indian version of Daisy Duke. In a pair of cut-up daisy dukes denim. A plaid shirt knotted above her belly button, showing off a belly-button ring. Cowboy boots. A hat. Her long, sleek black hair spills down her back. It takes me a second to correlate this version of her with the one in the beautiful saris.
“Hey, girls, you look amazing!” Tasha exclaims. “Guys are going to go wild for you tonight.”
I glance at Gracie and nearly do a double take. She’s stunning in a jumpsuit stitched together from various shades of denim, paired with sleek white pumps. But the real shock? Her hair is now dyed a bold mint green.
“Tasha, you look fantastic,” Gracie says. “I wish I had your long legs to pull off a skirt like that.”
Tasha does a confident twirl, showing off her oversized shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show off her Kelly-green leather mini skirt, and strappy heels. Her smooth brown skin glows beneath the dim penthouse lighting.
“Aria, you look amazing,” Gracie adds. “That outfit is fierce. I’m glad you’ve embraced your curves.”
I spin around once, laughing. “Thanks to your putting me in that wedding dress, Tasha insisted I wear white tonight since I’m the bride.”
“You are killing it, Ari!” Tasha shouts. “If you were a snack, you’d be the whole damn charcuterie board. Can you believe she wanted to wear black? Hell no. Tonight, she stands out.”
I felt amazing. The white blazer and shorts hug my curves, stopping just beneath my ass. The gold corset beneath the blazer glitters against my skin.
“I agree with Tash,” Saaha says. “That color is a killer on you.”
The girls’ confidence and praise only amplify the buzz already building in my chest. “Alright, ladies,” I clap my hands once. “Let’s hit the club. I want to dance.”
We’re pulling up to Culture, the club already pulsing with life. A long line snakes down the block and thank goodness we don’t have to wait. Tasha knows the bouncer Ian, and even if she didn’t… Cyan’s army of security, including Johnny, would’ve made sure of it. As we step out of the car, I feel eyes on us. A low murmur ripples through the crowd as we approach the velvet rope.
“Who the hell are they?” someone mutters behind us.
“Gotta be somebody’s sugar babies to get in that fast,” another guy scoffs.
Tasha doesn’t even flinch. She strides up to the bouncer like she owns the place, ID already in hand. “Ms. Diamond, I reserved the booth for tonight.”
Ian barely glances at the list before unclipping the rope. “Enjoy your night, ladies.”
