Page 18 of Queen of Ruin

Momentarily he looks relieved, but then stares down the block with a forlorn expression. Turning back to me, he says, “Did you have to park so far away? My feet are killing me in these heels.” He points down to the pair of diamond studded stilettos. I didn’t even know they made women’s shoes that big.

“Just take them off!”

Alistair stares at me with incredulity. “Do you know what excrements are on this sidewalk?” He pulls a disgusted face. “I could get typhoid.”

“I’m no doctor, but I believe typhoid was eradicated back in nineteen forty-five.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

“Here, let me help you,” Evangeline interjects, holding out an arm to steady him as we start to walk down the sidewalk.

The click of Alistair’s heels causes another bout of laughter to bubble up inside me, and I can see the shake of Evangeline’s shoulders ahead of me. Alistair's hand is clutched onto her bicep as if his life depends on it and it very well may as he walks unsteadily. I wonder how he got around all night in those.

“Explain to me again what the purpose of this is?” I catch up to them and gesture to his outfit: an evening dress, complete with pearls.

Alistair takes a moment as if he’s deciding whether he wants to say something in front of Evangeline or not. He looks down at her arm as she holds onto him, the only thing keeping him upright at the moment, and then sighs.

“As you know, I got my series seven,” Alistair starts, as if he’s giving a monologue in a Shakespearean play, and I gesture for him to get to the point. “There was this party with the guys at work,” he explains, losing his balance as his heel catches in one of the sidewalk cracks. “Shit!” he calls out.

Evangeline giggles while trying to hold him up, and Alistair glares at her. “You try walking in these things,” he pouts.

Evangeline presses her lips together.

“Anyway…” I try to get him to finish the story.

“You remember the frat parties?” he asks, and I groan, remembering exactly what he’s referring to.

“Like a Halloween party?” Evangeline inquires, curiously.

“Not exactly,” I grumble.

“More like a theme party,” Alistair explains. “Ya know, like nineties boy bands, seventies, stuff like that. One of them was where the guys dressed up in women’s clothes, and the girls dressed up like men.”

“Nineties boy bands?” Evangeline asks with a raised eyebrow, and when she turns towards me, it almost looks like she’s picturing me as Donnie Wahlberg – as if.

“There is no photographic evidence of this in case you were wondering if you could use it against me.”

“Hmm, I doubt that, but if it makes you feel safer,” she leaves the sentence hanging, giving me a mischievous smirk and making me want to take a bite of those sexy, pouty lips.

Oblivious to my thoughts, Alistair continues. “I was told by my friends at work that everyone was dressing up, and then I get to the party and I’m the only one.” Alistair lifts his arms in the air in exaggeration, nearly toppling over again.

“Can you really call them friends at this point?” I ask.

“Don’t be jealous, Darren,” Alistair places a hand on my shoulder, “You’ll always be my best friend.”

I shake his hand off. “Believe me, I’m not jealous.”

“How did you end up in jail?” Evangeline interrupts, asking the question that we both want to know the answer to.

Alistair presses his lips together as if to keep the secret from spilling out, and I guarantee it’s not as salacious as he thinks it is.

“I’d rather not say in front of a lady,” he states in a demure tone, and looks pointedly at Evangeline.

“Don’t be dramatic. It can’t be any worse than this,” I gesture to his outfit.

“I highly doubt that’s why,” Evangeline cuts in, placing her hands on her hips and looking pointedly at Alistair.

“I’ll find out later and just tell her anyway,” I express.

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