“No way, did he tell you why he didn’t show up?”
She scoffs before taking an angry sip of her juice. “Yeah, his excuse was that the other two were already going, so it should be fine. Like he isn’t the main face of the damn group.”
“Oof, so now what?”
“Now I need to find a separate time to get him to do the shoot individually. Which he will probably try and skip out on again.” She groans. “Men. They act like little boys sometimes, I swear.”
“At least it’s the weekend so you get to relax.”
“Ha, there’s no relaxing when you work PR for these guys.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah. I mean, you just never know when a fire is going to break out. I could be on a cruise ship to the Bahamas and find out one of them had public sex in a fountain, or I could be sitting at home for five days and not hear a peep.”
I’m beginning to seriously wonder just who these guys are that she represents. Public sex in a fountain? Sounds like some weird rock star shit.
“Seems like you could use a spa day at least.”
She snorts. “The last time I got a massage, the masseuse had to turn off my phone because it wouldn’t stop vibrating with notifications. He said it ruined the vibes.”
As if on cue, her phone begins to chime.
“Dammit. This is the brand. It was really nice to meet you, Stevie.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a business card. “Here’s my number. Text me if you want to grab another juice sometime!”
She whisks out of the store in record time, dress ruffling behind her. I barely even blink before she’s gone. No evidence she was even there other than a ring of red liquid on the table and her business card.
Sydney Lake
Public Relations Manager
Still no insight into what sort of clients she handles, but in California it could be anything.
I stuff the card into my handbag before dumping my empty juice into the trash can and carrying the remaining two out. I keep an eye out this time for my surroundings, careful not to cause another commotion as I make my way through the parking lot.
Sydney was sweet, though. I don’t have many girlfriends. Deanna is the only one I really have other than my cousin Trinity. But she’s been living in Milan these last three years as a catwalk model. She is totally killing it, making one hell of a name for herself, but it does mean I only get to video call with her every couple of months. It would be nice to have someone else to hang out with.
I balance my juices on the hood of my car, searching around for any latent roses. It’s ridiculous that this has become a habit now. But after weeks of random roses popping up, I just can’t help it.
Suddenly, my neck prickles with awareness. I whip my head around, scanning for the cause. My eyes dart around the parking lot, but there’s no sign of Chase. Paranoia drips in my stomach. I snatch my juices off the hood and hastily shuffle into my car. I lock it immediately.
Deanna’s family’s house is only a fifteen-minute drive and located within a gated community. A gated community that I know Chase has no connections with. Sure, he could bribe the security guards or gate attendants, but I know none of his friends or acquaintances reside here. Plus, Chase hates Dee. He always has. Something he has against the nouveau riche, apparently. Deanna hates him as well, but that’s just because she thinks he is an ass. Which I can’t help but agree with nowadays.
I start the engine and peel out of the parking lot quickly. One of my favorite songs blasts through the speakers. I try to focus on it…but I just can’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.
***
“We’re going out tonight.”
“What?”
“To a club.”
“No.”
I’m curled up in the hanging chair located in Deanna’s living room. While she still lives at home with her parents, Dee lives in a small two-story cottage on the back of their property. It’s probably around two-thousand square feet, and she doesn’t have to pay shit on it. In other words, heaven.
“You told that girl earlier that she deserves to relax.”
“So?”
“Well, I’m telling you, you need a night out.”
“I don’t see how the two are connected.”
“They’re connected because most of the time people don’t know when they’ve hit their stress level and need a moment to reset and recharge. Or in your case, let loose. Not until someone else points it out to them.”
“So, you’re telling me I’m too stressed and need to go clubbing to relax? Clubs are not relaxing, Dee.”
“Dancing is! Dancing is like a massage for your brain.”
I give her a skeptical look. Mostly because I kind of agree with her and don’t know how else to respond without being roped in.
“When was the last time you went clubbing?”
I groan, knowing my answer is going to cost me a point in this battle. “Like, four-ish months ago.”
It’s a guess. Chase didn’t like when I went clubbing without him, and all the clubs he dragged me to were…awful. Sure, he and his friends were dropping twenty thousand on table service, but I’d just be stuck sitting there while he hung out with his friends and—now that I think about it—probably got his dick sucked by random girls in the back room. All the while I just sat there like a na?ve girlfriend drinking glass after glass of Dom Perignon Luminous Brut Champagne. Which, for the record, tastes like any other vintage of Dom. I’m pretty sure the extra price just comes from the glowing green label.
It was boring. I never got to dance. Never got to properly show off my cute club outfits. Eventually, I just stopped going. It was more fun just staying in than subjecting myself to those nights out.
“Four? Well, it’s settled. Now we have to go clubbing. Get that ass shaking a little bit.”
I snort at her.
“Look, Maya told me about a new club that just opened by the same owners as The Blue Petal. She still out of town, but she said we can put the drinks on her team’s table; we won’t even need to tempt unsuspecting men into getting us cocktails. No strings. Just you, me, booze, and music.”
Dammit. She knows I love The Blue Petal. It’s not the ritziest club in California, but it has some of the best music. And when it comes to a club, music is key. If I can’t sing and dance, I might as well just be at a cocktail lounge or a bar somewhere.
“What’s it called?”
A smile breaks out on her face. She knows she has me hooked.
“Yes!” She gives herself a fist bump. “It’s called Electric Tyger. It’ll only be like a thirty, maybe forty-minute ride from here. We should get there just before midnight.”
She disappears into her room, and I proceed to swing back and forth in the chair, listening to her prattle on.
“I’m pretty sure you left some of your outfits here from the last time we went clubbing, back in the stone ages, ya know?”
“Or I could just drive home and grab some and be back in like thirty? It’s only two, we have plenty of time.”
She pokes her head around the corner, her new white braids swaying back and forth.
“And trust that you will return? Hell no. I’m keeping you trapped here until we leave.”