As soon as my heels stepped from the red carpet back onto the sleek marble floors, I thought I was in the clear, but then I heard a familiar, shrill voice behind me. At first I didn’t believe it, but when I spun around, I saw Tara posing with a handsome guy that I didn’t recognize.
“I’m wearing Versace and these shoes are Louboutins, obviously,” she answered one of the paparazzi’s questions while fluffing her hair and striking the perfect pose.
“Your teammates just passed us on the carpet. Are you going to be hanging out with them at the event?” a reporter asked, pointing in our direction.
Tara’s gaze followed his finger until our eyes locked and my stomach dropped. She should not be given microphone privileges. There was no way to know what was about to come out of her mouth next.
“We’re actually not teammates anymore,” she clarified with an air of attitude as she turned her attention back to the cameras.
That comment sent the paparazzi into a flurry of questions, and I was left clutching Becca’s arm with a vice-like grip. Becca shot me a pleading look as Liam started pulling me toward the entrance of the party. He didn’t want me to be subjected to her drama, but I had to know how she was going to answer.
“I actually left the team for some quite interesting reasons. I had a problem with a certain individual on the team. There was tons of juicy drama, but I have to go to the event now, boys! Maybe we’ll get to the bottom of the story another time!”
My jaw ticked as I listened to her plant the seed of my impending demise. She was bypassing the gritty details of our drama for now, but she and I would have to clear the air soon. We both had too much ammunition on one another and I knew she was just waiting to use it to her advantage. Liam squeezed my hand and shot me an apologetic frown. I wrapped my other hand around his arm so that he knew I wasn't upset... just overwhelmed. I hadn’t factored Tara into my evening attire. If I knew she’d be at the event, I would have tucked a flask into my sequined clutch. Or maybe a glock.
The red carpet led the four of us toward a set of double doors where a PR person was checking people off the list and admitting them as they arrived. When she glanced up at Liam, she smiled and waved us through quickly.
My heart rate started to slow down as soon as we were inside the majestic ballroom. In here, we were just another guest at the party.
The event organizers had spared no expense. The colors of the event were black, gold, and white and they extended to every single detail. Black cocktail tables were positioned throughout the room. They'd covered the walls in ornate black and gold striped wallpaper. White orchids sat on every table and black balloons covered the center dance floor. It was already packed by the time we arrived. People were milling around by the bar stations and the dance floor. I was relieved to see that it wouldn't be a sit down type of event.
Right away I recognized quite a few celebrities chatting with their friends and entourages. I was used to seeing them, having grown up in LA, but I'd never attended a party with so many of them in attendance. That's when it struck me that I was here as a date to one of those people.
The second we walked in, people started buzzing around Liam, waving hello and patting his arm as he passed by. He was clearly well-liked by everyone in attendance, a little too well liked by some of the women, but I did my best to ignore it. And by ignore it, I mean staring them down and praying they were actually men in drag.
Liam placed his hand on the small of my back so that his fingers touched my bare skin. We were greeting one of his friends as he ran his hand slowly up and down my spine, just enough to make my skin tingle. A backless dress was definitely a good choice.
"Would you like a drink?" Liam asked.
"Sure. It'll give me something to do with my hands," I joked as he led us over to the bar.
"This place looks amazing," Becca noted, scanning up over our heads toward the coffered ceiling illuminated by gold stars. I couldn't tell if it was a lighting trick or if they'd actually stuck stars to the ceiling.
Liam leaned in. "Champagne or a Greyhound?"
I smiled at the luxuriousness of champagne, but I had to resist. “I should probably stick with a diet coke since there’s media here."
He and Penn stepped up to order us drinks, and Becca and I stepped aside so we'd be out of the line.