“Evelyn?”
Distracted from her self-loathing, she turned and found Patrice,the waxing torture artist from the salon, beside her. “Patrice. Hi.”
“You okay? You look a little pale.”
Scout swallowed. “I just did something very, very stupid, but I’ll live. Definitely a lesson I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.”
Patrice’s lips curved with the practiced grace of someone who’s always been beautiful, and she glanced toward the front of the hotel. “Look, I’m done for the day. I was gonna just go home and veg out, but I’ll never get a cab in this weather. Wanna come with me to Vogue and get a drink?”
“Oh, thanks, but I don’t really drink.”
“Well, then how about coming with me to keep me company until the rain lets up? You can tell me all about the stupid thing you did and I’ll make you feel better.”
Scout was about to politely decline, but then figured what the hell. She was tired of being by herself and could use a break from her reality. “Okay.”
They sat at the bar. It was high and long and supershiny. She’d never sat at a bar before. The lighting was dim and gave this part of the restaurant a reddish glow. A handsome man with tanned arms and big muscles came over to them. He wore a Patras golf shirt.
“What can I get you ladies?”
Patrice smiled. Every expression she made had a sultry appearance. This didn’t slip the bartender’s notice. There was nothing sultry about Scout.
Patrice moved like one of those fancy fish they sold in the Chinese section of Folsom, the kind with the long, fringed fins that flowed and swirled. Her arms crossed delicately as she leaned forward. Her long lashes moved over her pale blue eyes like wispy fronds fanning in a breeze. Her voice, when she addressed the bartender, was more of a purr.
Her lips curved slowly over every word. “I’ll take a tequila sunrise and my friend here will have . . .”
Patrice looked at her and Scout panicked. It suddenly felt silly to be sitting at a fancy bar and ordering a water. “Make that two.”
“Two sunrises, coming up.”
He turned and began pulling bottles down from glass shelves and filling a silver cup with ice. He put on quite a show, raising his arm high as amber liquid poured down in a ribbon of gold. He shook the silver cup and the chilled liquor slid into a glass, causing the red juice he first added to rise like the sun.
Scout smiled. “It’s so pretty.”
“Like a sunrise,” Patrice added, turning her slight smirk and long lashes in her direction.
The bartender slid the glasses in front of them. “Two beautiful sunrises for two beautiful ladies.”
Liquor was a funny thing. It burned fast going down, then burned slow once it hit the belly. Scout had never had alcohol before and didn’t really feel the effects. By the time she finished her drink she’d practically forgotten about the money she spent and was really enjoying herself.
“Can I get you ladies a refill?”
Patrice smiled and slid a twenty across the bar. Scout’s brow puckered. She hadn’t thought about paying.
“Wait,” Scout said, stilling Patrice’s hand. Her nails were very nice. Little, neat, and red. “You bought the first two.”
“It’s my treat, Evelyn.” She smiled softly and Scout breathed in a whiff of her light flowery perfume. Her breath smelled like cherry grenadine.
“No, let me. I have a credit.” Her fingers slid the room card to the bartender and he slid it through the machine.
He frowned and brought it back, looking uncertain. “Uh, this card isn’t registered to your name.”
“Oh.” Scout didn’t expect to be questioned for using Lucian’s card, but she guessed that made sense.
Before she came up with an excuse, Patrice said, “Evelyn’s Mr. Patras’s guest.”
The bartender looked at Scout in question, and she shrugged. “He said I should charge everything to the room.”
With no easy way out of this predicament, the bartender jaggedly turned, skepticism slowing his progress, and made their drinks. As Patrice and she chatted, other patrons began to fill the establishment. Voices carried and they slowly began to talk louder, leaning in closer to hear each other.
After they ordered their third drink the bartender was flagged over by a man at the register. They spoke briefly and then the man looked at Scout. She wondered if they would be asked to leave. He made a phone call and left. She forgot about him by her fourth drink.
By the time the bar was full so was her bladder. Whispering to Patrice that she needed to visit the ladies’ room, her friend decided to go with her. While she felt fine sitting at the bar, the moment she stood, she realized she was anything but. She lost her balance and Patrice caught her elbow. They giggled the entire way to the ladies’ room. Walking in heels while intoxicated was like traveling on a tightrope.