Keaton kicks my chair. “About the time someone decided to sleep in our RV.”
Val stands, dusting off her pants and picking up whatever self-respect I’ve left her with. “You’re such an asshole.”
I look over her shoulder, dismissing her, just as Keaton takes the seat beside me, chuckling. “Any idea where the little bird has flown off to?”
I take a sip of my whiskey, allowing the liquid to burn in my mouth before swallowing. “She’s gone with Beat.”
“Beat as in Manik? She’s hanging around again?”
I shake my head, reaching for the pack of smokes on the ground and banging the end onto my thigh. “Naw. They just come to the New York shows when we’re here. Seems this time, Beatrice has found a liking to Dove.”
Keaton doesn’t answer, so I look over at him just as I blow out a cloud of smoke.
He smirks.
“Don’t fucking say it, Keats. Unless you want me to rearrange that pretty little face, I wouldn’t fucking say it.”
Keaton chuckles, resting his head back against the back of his chair. “I wouldn’t, but I would get a handle on that before it gets out of control. You’re losing focus.”
“The fuck I am,” I snap, flicking the ash off my smoke. “She’s not the fucking one.”
Kyrin must have sunk into the chair on the other side of me because his voice cracks through next. “They come in twos.”
Beat orders two vodkas and then rests her eyes on me. Her two bodyguards are probably outside waiting for us, but Aeron went home. “Where did you learn to dance like that?” she asks, stirring the olives around in her martini.
“Ah,” I lean back in my chair, “my mom ruled her expectations with a heavy foot, and that foot usually had a ballerina slipper attached to it, so…”
Beat laughs, flicking some peanuts into her mouth. “I get it. I mean, I don’t really get it. I—my mom and—”
“Oh!” I shake my head, thankful for the drink when it finally arrives. I take a sip before answering. “No, I mean, it was great, but they died when I was young.”
“Oh.” Beat softens her tone, her shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I wave her off, not because I’m unaffected by their death anymore, but because after all these years of having to explain or say the same thing, almost like a rehearsed script, it’s easier now. “It was a long time ago.” Lie, you’re still affected by it. Shutting out bad memories doesn’t help you cope. It’s the easy lie that we blanket ourselves with for a false sense of security.
“So how has Delila been?” Beat changes the subject.
I shrug. “A total bitch at the best of times.” The alcohol is warming my blood and fueling my confidence to speak.
“So, still the same then.” Beat rolls her eyes.
“You used to be in Midnight Mayhem?” I ask.
Her shoulders sag. “Yes. A long time ago, but essentially, yes. For a couple shows anyway.”
“How’d you find it?” I’m intrigued by her on a level that I’m not sure I can quite grasp yet. Fascinated. I want to know her in a way.
“Well.” She exhales. “I was running away from my husband because he kidnapped me. Then there was this whole ‘he might kill me thing’ and I didn’t feel like dying.”
I laugh, throwing my head back. I laugh so hard my belly tightens. When I finally come down from my fit of giggles, she’s watching me with surprise. “You’re not freaked out by what I just said?”
I swipe at my eyes. “No. I mean, if you knew how I came about my current position.”
Beat searches my eyes. “Oh, I think I have an idea. Maybe. Though I’m not sure.”
I shake my head, sighing. I feel relaxed for the first time in a long time. Being around so much testosterone has taken its toll on me. “I swear you could write a really creepy book about my life.”
Beat snorts, leaning into her bag that’s near her ankles and dropping a book onto the table. She points. “Join the club.” My eyes fall on the cover, the bright green title catching my eyes first. The title is simple. MANIK. The cover image is of Aeron’s chest, but where his face is supposed to be, there are ravens flying out.
“Wow! You have a book?”
She waves me off. “I didn’t write it, but yes. It’s the story of how Aeron and I met. I’m all for creepy stories. I wouldn’t recommend this author, though. She drinks too much, procrastinates a lot, and is easily distracted.”
I laugh, running my hand over the book while sliding it back to her. “So why did you want to have a drink with me tonight? Or this morning?”
Her focus drifts. “Well, I was really just hoping to pick your brain on how you dance. I run Aeron’s backup dancers now, and they’re driving me crazy. That’s saying a lot, because my crazy threshold is high due to who I’m married to.”