Does Ozzy beat you like he beat that journalist?
Journalist, ha. There was a joke.
Ever sighed again. “You sure about that? You don’t seem like you’ve let it all go. Then everything with Oz last weekend. Between his hotheaded bullshit and getting you stabbed—”
“He didn’t get me stabbed. He intervened and saved me from getting more seriously hurt.”
“If you say so.”
“And considering I held Kerry’s body as she was dying, I’d say I’m well aware of how long it’s been,” I snapped.
“Sorry.” Ever let out a long breath. “I’m sorry I made you remember all that, sis.”
I shut my eyes. No one seemed to get that being reminded of Kerry didn’t make her any more real to me. She was with me every moment of every day. Sometimes she felt a little more present, the memories a bit closer, but some part of her always existed in my consciousness.
“No, I’m sorry. I know you keeping getting confused and trying to big sister me, but guess what, Sara Lee, you’ll never be the older and wiser one.”
Ever groaned. “Not Sara Lee. I haven’t heard that nickname in forever.”
“Obviously, I was overdue.”
She let out a laugh. “Fine, I’ll come. I’ll be off work in an hour. I have to cover for Mabel’s yoga-genics class.”
I had no idea what yoga-genics was, but if anyone would know, it was my exercise freak sister. My idea of working out was…
I pressed my thighs together. Yeah, I wasn’t going there.
“Okay. Club Kulture. It’s just us girls, and we have the VIP section tonight. Second level. Way in back. Give the bouncer Lindsey’s name and the code Irish.”
“Irish? Why?”
“Her dude’s from Ireland. Guessing that’s why.”
“But it’s only ladies’ night? You sure about that?”
The first tendrils of unease curled inside me. “Teagan promised me. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Unshockingly, there were a couple of tabloid types lurking near the entrance to my sister’s building when I emerged a bit later. I turned quickly and started walking north, trying my best to ignore the shouted questions and popping flashbulbs.
No big deal. You’ll be out of the glare soon. They’ll realize you and Oz are over and back to obscurity you’ll go.
I glanced back as I ducked into an Uber. A tall guy in a black trench coat stood a few feet away, his gaze fixated on me.
When he started to speak, I shut the door.
I let out a sigh of relief as the driver swerved into traffic. And grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer tucked in my minuscule purse, as if somehow I could obliterate the existence of the paparazzi by rubbing my hands raw.
Under an hour later, I found myself crammed in a huge circular booth with Teagan, Jamie, Lindsey, and Elle Crandall and her hulking husband, Mal Shawcross. That wasn’t all. Our table also included Alexander Nash, Lindsey’s man, and some himbo Jamie had picked up on her way in—her word, not mine. She was sitting on the guy’s lap, and Lindsey was wrapped around Nash, and Elle and Mal were five seconds away from indecency as always.
I was growing more uncomfortable by the minute.
“You lied to me,” I muttered to Teagan.
“Lie is a strong word. Besides, I didn’t know the whole band was coming, I swear.”
I clutched my blue lagoon drink, complete with little floating gummy fish. I’d wanted to have a drink like a regular twenty-something. Not to get hammered, just to be social. “Whole band?” I choked out. “Which band? Warning Sign? That band?”
Teagan looked at me as if I was slightly daffy. “My band. You know, Brooklyn Dawn?” She leaned forward to sniff my drink. “How much alcohol is in there anyway?”