I raise my hand to point, but catch myself. I don’t want him to see her. Not yet. Not until I put up an electric fence around her and hammer a huge sign on it that reads: Harcourt Blackwood’s Woman. Keep Out. Trespassers Will Be Beaten and Fed to Rabid Piranhas. “Sorry. Thought I saw someone I knew.”
A plan forms in my head. Step One: get Nate out of the way.
We go to the VIP entrance. Nate and I are both on the list. The bouncer there looks like the result of a lab experiment involving a silverback gorilla and a T-Rex. His black shirt is stretched so tightly across the pecs that I swear he’s going to pop a few buttons if he breathes too hard, like a bride who’s sucked in everything she can to fit into a vanity gown. His scowl seems permanent. Every time he smiles, his face looks like it’s going to crack.
But he smiles anyway. Good customer service matters, especially for VIPs. “Hi, Harcourt.”
“Hey, Zack.” I smile at Nate. “Why don’t you go ahead and grab a booth? I need to talk to this guy for a minute.”
He gives me a “don’t do anything stupid” look, but shrugs and goes inside.
I go to the guardian of the VIP lane, then point at Red… No. That’s not right. Her hair’s brown, and she can always get rid of the dress. Ideally with me. Tonight.
But back to the present—what does she remind me of that’s delicious?
Skittles.
That’s a perfect temporary name for her. “You see that girl over there?” I point her out carefully, since there are a lot of women. He knows my taste, and I don’t want him to get confused and pick a blonde with extra-large melons who’s too above it all to look happy.
“The dancer? In red?” He sounds a little surprised.
“Yeah.” I hand him a few crisp bills. “Let her in.”
“Why don’t you?” He shoots me a sly grin, which makes him look positively sinister. But his voice is as soft as melted candy. “Play the VIP card. Girls dig that shit.”
Clichéd, and definitely not. I pat his fifty-inch chest, the pec muscles oscillating under my hand. “Zack, my man. I don’t want her knowing it’s me. Just tell her it’s her lucky day.”
I want her to like me because she thinks I’m awesome to be around, not because I have pull at a swanky club like Z. Being liked for me matters. That’s one of many reasons I left Tempérane, Louisiana. Everyone there knows my family’s filthy rich…and treats me accordingly.
I go inside. The music pounds, the bass hard and fast—perfect for dancing. The place is already heaving, as the Brits say. A huge number of people around the bars. Z has your usual array of alcohol, but it also has fancy top-shelf liquor for those who can pay. It gets more than its share of celebrities, who like to feel important by drinking stuff so expensive that you could fund a war on their tab.
Should I send her something pricey?
Nah. Dumb move. She might not be into hard liquor. And even if she is, if she doesn’t recognize it, it’s going to look stupid to explain how much it costs, because what the hell kind of douche does that anyway?
I’m not thinking very clearly today.
You care way too much about how she’ll react. Normally you’d just send it and be done.
I flick away the annoying voice in my head. Nate’s in one of the second-level VIP lounges overlooking the dance floor. He waves, and I plop down in the circular leather seat.
“What was that about with the bouncer?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I signal a waitress for a whiskey.
“Uh-huh.”
I like Nate because he’s astute. But right now I wish he were a bit less shrewd. Skittles is more his type than mine. He likes lithe, leggy brunettes. “Just wanted to know if Tony was coming.”
“Why would he be coming? Isn’t tomorrow his anniversary or something?”
“How the hell did you know?” Is Nate tracking my brother’s life? I only know about it because he asked me to drop by and distract Ivy tomorrow morning while he gets the anniversary gift delivered.
“His crazy mansion made the news, and they said it was for his wife, blah blah blah, who he married tomorrow. Well, tomorrow last year.”
Nate gets shunted back in my “normal” column. The mansion Tony commissioned is insane. He only got it because he decided his wife deserves one, plus he figured he could install better security. It basically has everything except a force field.
The waitress brings me my whiskey, and I take a huge swallow before turning to Nate. “I like the mansion, and you know what’s really cool?”