Chapter 1
I move away from Nathan to talk to Carter, but Emily intercepts my path by clumsily bumping into me. With my eyes still on Carter, I ask, “What’s up with the two of them?” I assume she knows. They’re both artists and the community around here is small. Once you’re into the upper level classes, anyway.
Emily’s brow furrows, making one of her eyebrow rings dance. She crosses her boot-clad legs at the ankle and nearly falls over. She’s sipping a drink that looks like mud. I giggle nervously. It’s hard to tell, but I’m guessing she’s not drinking coffee.
“Who? Carter and Cream Puff?” Emily knocks back more of her drink.
“Who is Cream Puff?” I make a face and look at her empty mug. “Are you drinking dirt? What the hell is that?”
“Try some,” Emily shoves the mug my way.
“I don’t drink dirt, dude. No thanks.” I laugh a little because she seems so clueless. “So I take it that wasn’t coffee?”
She tries to focus on my face, blinking her big green eyes. Is she wearing contacts? I could have sworn her eyes were brown, but I suck at remembering details. “It was a triple espresso laced with some kind of white chocolate liquor.”
“Do you usually get trashed after one drink?”
“Ha! I am so not trashes,” she slurs. Then she giggles to herself, “Tray-eshed.” Her dark eyebrows crinkle together and she starts to topple forward.
Grabbing her arm, I’m suddenly concerned. “What the hell did you drink? Emily?” She doesn’t tell me, instead she smiles at her shoes.
“I like boots. Boooooots.” She taps her toe on the floor and grins proudly, like she’s told the most hysterical joke ever.
A second later, a very pretty guy wanders over. He’s wearing a black blazer and dark, stone washed jeans. His head is clean-shaven and there are a number of piercings on the left side of his face—left eyebrow, left nose, left ear, left nipple from the looks of the way his coat doesn’t lay flat across his otherwise smooth chest. A tattooed snake slithers fixedly around his skull, again, mostly on the left side. He’s the kind of guy who couldn’t choose a life of crime. He’d be easy to pick out of a line up. Unlike Bathroom Boy, wherever he went. My eyes dart through the room looking for Mr. Smith, but he’s gone.
Tat Man clears his throat. “Is she okay?”
Emily giggles, which means we’ve entered bizarro land. She jerks away from me and pats the guy’s chest. With her hand lingering on his chest, she looks up at him alluringly and smoothes the wrinkles from his shirt. “I’m fine.”
Tat Man glances back at me, a single brow lifted, as my friend leans harder into him. “I’m pretty sure I saw someone drop something in her drink. I don’t know her, but I didn’t like it. The rest of her friends are kind of scary, so I waited until I could talk to someone who might listen.” He looks down at his feet nervously, unable to maintain eye contact. “Sorry, but it’s kind of awkward walking over to two hot girls and saying something like that—especially when one of them is…”
He trails off as Emily finds his nipple ring under his shirt and is batting at it like a cat. If she purrs I’m going to lose it.
Grabbing her hand, I talk to her like she’s a kid, “Let’s not play with the nice man’s nipples, okay?” Emily juts out her bottom lip. Tat Man and I both stare at her as if she’s grown another head. He’s telling the truth, he has to be, this is so unlike her. Holding onto her wrist, I tug her back toward me, suddenly leery. “Did you see who did it?”
His arms fold over his chest in a defensive pose. “Nah, she was standing inside a group of people and turned from the bar. I was sitting at the opposite end and saw a hand dump something into her glass. She was too far away for me to say something before she picked it up. Plus some couples think the whole date rape thing is fun, it excites one or both of them” He makes a
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