He leaned forward.
I smiled at the people behind him, people completely unaware that if I had a switchblade, I’d try and stab Darren right in the stomach. Maybe. Probably. I’d at least think about it in a very threatening and angry manner.
I glanced over to Paul, who was grinning at me. I mentally said good-bye to my best friend because there would be nothing left of him but bone and gristle before the night was over.
Darren’s cheek scraped against mine. I could feel his breath on my neck. He pressed the cash into my hand and I tightened my fingers around his.
When he spoke, his words crawled along my skin and I fought the shiver that wanted to crawl through me.
“Take the money.” His voice was low and honey-sweet. “You’ve done it before.”
“Go fuck yourself, sunshine.” My voice was sharp and brittle. The smile never left my face. I was a performer, after all. None of them would see me crack.
He said, “Now, now. No need to be crass.”
I said, “If I had a switchblade, I would give very serious consideration to stabbing you.”
He said, “Remind me never to tip you in switchblades, then.”
“Pity, that.”
“Take the money, Helena.”
“I don’t want your goddamn money.”
“You’ve never had a problem with it before.”
“Now I do.”
“My money is just as good as anyone else’s.”
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”
“I hear there’s brunch tomorrow.”
“You’re not invited.”
“That’s not what Paul said.”
“Paul doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”
“So, same time as usual?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” I bared my teeth, pressing them against the side of his n
eck.
Darren chuckled, tugging on my hand, pulling me closer. I could feel the heat of him through the vinyl. “You wouldn’t believe the things I dare to do,” he whispered in my ear, and I hated him.
“If you show up, I’ll poison you.”
I thought I felt his lips near my ear. “So there is an invitation, then.”
“I would not be sad if you fell off a cliff,” I said.
“So violent.” His grip tightened on my hand. “Take the fucking money.”
“Why?”