“I don’t know where you get your willpower. I’d be down on my knees the first time we were alone in a room together. He’s so fucking sexy, the way he doesn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone . . .” Erin laughs. “Maybe that’s why I never find love. Show me a philanthropist, a teacher, and a complete degenerate and I’ll pick the guy who steals my purse every time. I never did find my ID, by the way. I swear somebody took it.”
I’m not really listening to Erin—I’m stuck on her second sentence, remembering how I did drop to my knees in front of Cole, resulting in the most humiliating moment of my life.
I got him back, then he got me back . . . and now I hardly know where we stand.
Whatever Cole might say, going to this party does feel like a date. It’s not like New Voices. The Artists Guild Halloween party is a rager. It results in more random hookups than your average swinger’s convention.
My phone buzzes with a text from Cole:
I’m out front
“I gotta go,” I tell Erin. “I’ll see you at the party.”
I snatch up my purse and hurry down the stairs, knowing better than to keep Cole waiting.
He’s standing outside his car, arms crossed over his chest, already impatient.
I can’t help laughing at the sight of him: he’s dressed as a Greek warrior, but painted head-to-toe in mottled gray and white so he looks like a statue turned to stone.
“How long did that take you?”
“Not too long. I rigged up my own airbrush.”
Cole is well known for designing custom machinery for fabrication. By all accounts, he’s an engineering genius. I haven’t seen any of his inventions because he still hasn’t brought me to his personal studio. It’s the one place on earth I’m most curious to go—better than a secret tour of the Vatican.
“I want to see it,” I say, giving him a not-so-subtle reminder of his promise.
He ignores my hint, opening my car door for me in a way that somehow manages to feel bossy rather than chivalrous.
“I’m surprised you didn’t dress as Perseus,” I say.
“I thought this would amuse you more.”
“Oh, it does.”
Another joke for my benefit . . . I’m not sure whether to be gratified or disturbed that Cole is making this level of effort on my behalf. I’m flattered as fuck but I know there’s always a reason with him—something he’ll want in return. Cole doesn’t do anything just to be nice.
We climb into his Tesla. Always prepared, Cole has laid a plastic tarp over his seat so the gray paint doesn’t damage the leather.
As he pulls away from the curb, he engages the autopilot.
“I’m surprised you trust the computer to drive for you,” I say. “I thought you were too much of a control freak for that.”
Cole shrugs. “This car has eight cameras constantly looking in all directions and an algorithm that updates daily. It’s superior to a human driver—even one as careful as me.”
“Well, what do I know. I don’t even have a driver’s license.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why would I? I’ve never had a car.”
He makes a disgusted tsking sound. “You should still know how to drive.”
I grin at him. “If autopilot keeps improving, maybe I’ll never have to learn.”
Though he’s barely touching the wheel with his index finger, Cole keeps his eyes on the road. He only pulls his gaze away for a moment to run those dark eyes up and down my body, murmuring, “You’re stunning.”
I’m glad the green makeup hides my blush.
“Erin said it was too much.”
“Erin is conventional,” Cole sniffs. “The blend of grotesque and sensual is alluring.”
“Well . . . thanks,” I say.
I never imagined I’d be flattered to be called “grotesque”， but here we are.
We pull up in front of a tall brick building in Russian Hill, where the party is already in full swing. Bass thuds vibrate the lawn, and eerie violet light spills out from the windows. As we enter through the front doors, we step into a miasma of thick fog and hanging sheets of artificial cobwebs.
Devil’s Worst Nightmare — FJ?RA Spotify → geni.us/no-saints-spotify
Apple Music → geni.us/no-saints-apple
Sonia grabs my shoulder, already well on her way to drunk. It takes me a second to recognize her because she’s dressed as Beetlejuice, complete with plunging black-and-white-striped suit, corpse makeup, and her gray bob sprayed lime green.