Her Dirty Bartenders (Men at Work #5) - Mika Lane Page 0,20

back home with them, they started following me everywhere to see if I had another man.

That’s when I decided to flee to LA.

“Um, sweetie, we were wondering if you’d had any contact with Vaughn,” Mom said breezily.

I knew they were going to go there. I just knew it.

“Mom, I told you, I’m through with him. It’s over. There’s no reason to talk to him.”

I could see them now, looking at each other and frowning, trying to figure out how to talk some sense into me.

“Well, Estella, that doesn’t mean you won’t reconsider your decision someday. I just hope you don’t end up regretting this,” Dad said.

Did they want me to be with a cheating scumbag?

My mother cleared her throat. “Why, honey, I saw Vaughn at the grocery store just the other day. He looked so sad.”

He was sad he wouldn’t have a high-ranking congressman as his father-in-law. Not because he missed me.

“He asked where you were staying.”

Oh no. She didn’t.

“Mom, please tell me you didn’t tell him—”

“I did, Estella. He’s so bereft. He deserves the chance to change your mind.”

Oh no, no, no.

“Is he coming here? To Denver?”

There was a brief silence, and then someone drew a long breath.

“He might be.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How many times had I told my parents to tell Vaughn nothing about what I was doing or where I was?

“It sounds like I need to stop sharing my whereabouts with you guys, if you’re going to share them with the very person I asked you not to,” I snapped.

There was an icy silence.

“Young lady, your mother and I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. Now, my election is heating up and we are facing a world of hurt—”

This is where I tuned him out. World of hurt was his favorite saying. He used it all the time, whether at home or on the floor of the House of Representatives.

“Hey, guys, I just realized how late it is there on the East Coast. I’d better let you go. Talk to you soon,” I said.

“Bye, honey,” Mom said.

“Goodbye, Estella. We love you,” Dad said.

“Love you too,” I said and swiped my phone closed.

Just what I needed on top of the other stuff going on in my life. Vaughn showing up in town. That was going to be one shit show I didn’t want to see.

14

Stell

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

Marni grabbed my free hand. My other one was busy adjusting the wig she’d made me wear.

“Would you come on? They’ll never know it’s us.”

Tableau was having some sort of private masked party, and Marni and I had specifically been told we were not invited.

Which meant, of course, that we were going to do our damnedest to go.

Thus, the wigs, over the top stage makeup, and costumes from Marni’s Burning Man days.

She was right. The guys would never recognize us. But that didn’t make me feel any better about crashing.

We walked toward the club’s front door with our heads down, just in case.

“Wait.” I grabbed her arm. “Stop. Marn, they’re checking the invite list at the front door.” I turned to head back to the car.

But she still had hold of my hand.

“Stell,” she hissed. “Goddammit, c’mon. You think I don’t know how to sneak into my brother’s club? Now, stay close,” she scolded, yanking on my hand again.

We walked to the back of the club to a door that had a pad with numbered buttons.

She pressed a series of numbers, and the light on the lock stayed red. She tried another series. No luck.

“Can we leave now?” I whispered.

But the last series she entered turned the light green, and the door popped open enough for us to slip in.

“Victory,” she said, slipping inside after me.

“Oh my god. How did you know the code?” I asked.

“They always use one of their birthdays. So dumb.”

We scooted through bar’s backroom and emerged into a party in full swing.

“Act like you belong here,” she said with her brilliant smile and started weaving through the costumed crowd.

“Here, put one of these masks on.”

I pulled a black velvet mask over my face until the eye holes lined up, and fixed the elastic around the back of my silver wig.

As we wandered, I got more comfortable with my costume. Marni had been right. No one would recognize us. It felt great.

I could get used to being someone else from time to time.

“C’mon. Let’s go upstairs,” she said over the booming house music.

We grabbed fresh glasses of champagne off the bar and mounted the