One to Chase - Tia Louise Page 0,88
takes the drinks, handing one to her friend.
He’s distracted talking to a guy behind him. She turns to me, cuddling close against my chest. “This is crazy.”
Looking down at her snuggled against me, holding onto me, warmth percolates in my chest. “Damn, girl,” I breathe. “Are you really hungry? I’m ready to forget this.”
Her eyes meet mine in intensity. “Not really.”
My chin drops and I rest my forehead against hers. “Shit, you’re going to kill me.”
“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” Her voice is still happy, but there’s a note of gravity in it now that wasn’t there earlier. We’re at the heart of the matter, and my expression sobers.
“Okay.” I catch her hand, ready. I want to know everything. I want to be all in. Whatever she wants to tell me, I want to hear it.
We’re just turning to go, and of all the fucking things. “Marcus!” Roland fucking Dickerson is at my side with Karen the cunt Philpot right beside him.
“Roland,” I say with zero enthusiasm. I can’t help noticing Amy shrink into my side.
“I would say fancy seeing you here, but god damn.” Roland inspects the room. “Not a good sign if they can’t even keep track of the guest list.”
“No strikes for being over zealous.” I’m non-committal. I don’t know why these two make Amy so uncomfortable, but I’m sensitive to how much they do, and I’m ready to get back to where we were headed.
“Amy.” Karen’s broadcaster voice clips through the background noise. “How nice.”
My beautiful date doesn’t answer. “Need a drink?” I’m the closest to the bar, and it seems the easiest distraction. Switch places, take off.
“See if there’s a decent Scotch back there.” Roland slaps my shoulder, but Karen looks across the crowd.
“I’ll be back,” she says instead. I’m relieved she’s leaving, but when I look over my shoulder, I notice Amy has gone to stand with her friend. Shit. I’m stuck.
I turn to the bar and call in his order. The bartender places a tumbler of Dewar’s in front of me, and I pass it back to Roland. He’ll likely complain, but I couldn’t care less. I’m about to ditch his ass.
“Traded in Goldfarb for Knight.” He laughs in his congestive way. “I guess there’s the real deal, and then there’s the sweet deal, yes?”
The question irritates me, but it’s my fault. I made the case for Paige at the gala. Thankfully, my love missed that one. Now I’m ready to defend her.
“What can I say? Amy’s more my speed.”
He laughs into his drink in a way that roils my stomach. “You never make a bad choice. Still don’t know why you’re not on our team.”
Because you’re a Dickweed. “Oh, yeah?” I laugh as if I’m one of his frat brothers.
“I’ll give you a tip, since you’re new.” He pauses to take another swig of scotch. “Amy Knight has quite the well-deserved reputation.”
My stomach tightens at his implication. “That so?”
“If she doesn’t put out, just let me know.” He laughs, giving me a disgusting wink. “I have the perfect blend to spread those pretty legs.”
Rage explodes in my chest. My fist clenches, and I’m ready to slam it in his fucking mouth. I’m not sure what he’s implying, but piecing together the response I’ve seen my girl have to this toad, I have an idea. Still, I want to be sure.
“What would that be?” I smile, doing my best to act calm as red clouds my vision.
Roland polishes off the scotch, and he’s more buzzed than I’ve ever seen him. He flags the bartender, who places another short glass of amber liquid in front of him. He lifts it and takes a long drink. Karen’s back with us, and I scan the crowd for Amy.
“The hostess said it’ll be another twenty minutes before we have a table,” Karen sighs, looking at her phone. “I’m stepping out. You okay, Rolls?” Her eyes narrow and flicker up and down him. “Getting pissed so early, dearest?”
He laughs a little too loudly and smacks her ass hard. Her face flames with anger, and my jaw clenches. Karen’s a bitch, and I’m happy to see her embarrassed. Still, Roland’s words burn in my brain. I’m ready to get to the bottom of whatever Dickweed has on Amy.
Karen leaves, and Roland looks bleary-eyed into the crowd. “I need to eat something,” he slurs.
I try to think of a way to get him back on the subject of whatever he was about to say. I don’t have to wait