As everyone settled into their seats, Ashley stood and raised her glass. “To Sasha’s last hurrah!”
“To Sasha!”
We clinked glasses, and the lights dimmed. The dark theater reminded me of the Monocle back home—a touch too warm and the smell of alcohol thick in the air. Glasses clinked, and people whispered before the music swelled, and the MC, a beautiful drag queen called Gigi Give-em-more, emerged from the red velvet curtain and welcomed the audience in Spanish. Miranda laughed at something she said and gleefully pointed at me. Clearly, her growing up in a Spanish-speaking household was an advantage that she was about to wield against me.
Wide-eyed, I watched the larger-than-life queen leave the stage and stand in front of our table. She said something, and Miranda doubled over with laughter.
“Ah, no habla—”
“We’re fucking with you, honey.” The audience broke into laughter, and Gigi grinned. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
“Sasha.”
“Princess Sasha. Love it.”
Sarah held up a black sash with the word bride bedazzled across it. “Bride Sasha.”
Gigi eyed me critically. “And what’s the lucky person’s name?”
“Luca.”
“Oh, fuck me.” Gigi sagged to the edge of the stage. “Sasha and Luca. I bet he’s tall, dark, and handsome?”
“I mean . . .” I leaned forward, taking a sip of my champagne.
“Of course. Bitches like you make me sick. Congratulations,” she grumbled, and the audience laughed at the dirty look she threw my way. With a scoff, Gigi moved on to work the rest of the room, and we kicked back and enjoyed the show.
We drank many, many bottles of champagne and watched many, many beautiful women shimmy and tease themselves out of their clothes before the house lights came up and it was time to go.
Gio and Tommy ushered us out into the warm summer night, and we started to make our way back to the hotel. Our group laughed and carried on, deciding a late-night dip was in order. Despite the fully stocked kitchen, the girls wanted some junk food and popped into the convenience store, leaving Tommy and me outside. He was making a call, so I took my phone and found a series of texts from Luca and a picture from Frankie of a bored Luca getting a lap dance.
Mid laugh, a pair of women bumped into me, knocking my phone from my hands and into the alley between the buildings.
“Fucking assholes,” I mumbled as I stepped next to the dumpster, searching for my phone. “Can knock you over, but don’t help you—”
A firm grip on the back of my neck pulled me up, forced me further into the alley, and shoved me against the rough wall. “All alone?” I opened my mouth to scream, but they turned my face until I couldn’t move my jaw, let alone let out more than a whimper. “Stay quiet. Wouldn’t want me to kill your little entourage.”
Swallowing back my screams, I focused on my assailant’s voice. It was familiar, and that sent a shiver down my spine.
“Good girl.” He inhaled deeply and released a harsh breath against my neck. “God, you smell good.”
“What do you want?” I whispered, not sure if he could hear me.
“I just wanted to say hello.”
“Sasha?” Tommy’s panicked voice called from feet away.
“See you in a few weeks, Sasha.” He kissed the back of my head and walked down the alley—his steps unhurried as if he hadn’t just scared the shit out of me.
I stayed plastered to the wall, my face throbbing.
“Sasha, what the hell are you doing?” Tommy gently peeled me from the stucco and guided me to the light of the street. When the yellow light us, he frowned. “What happened?”
I shook my head and gestured to the alley. “Some women knocked my phone from my hand, and it bounced into the alley. I was looking for it when a guy shoved me against the wall.”
“Did he rob you?” Tommy stood in the mouth of the dark alley.
“No, but he said he’d see me in a few weeks. Do you think he means at the wedding because—”