Page 49 of When Glitter Meets Gold

“Uhh…” he stutters. “Yeah, that’s right. I was in her hotel room when she got back.”

I close my eyes, the thumping bass drowning out my groaning.

Francis and Kandi snort simultaneously.

“Smooth.” Kandi rolls her eyes, leaning in to deliver another razor-sharp barb. “Getting Drew to lie for you? Really?”

Before I can respond, she links arms with Francis, flashes Jack a sultry glance, and slinks off into the crowd. I only have a moment to flash an angry stare at Jack before he nods collectively to the remainder of our party, says a brief, “Excuse me,” then turns his back on us. He’s immediately summoned by a couple of swaying men, who draw him into a conversation he appears only too happy to be a part of.

And then I’m alone with Drew. “Sorry, I panicked.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay, I put you on the spot. But I thought you wanted to keep the whole thing a secret?”

“I already told people I went to hike some of the trail.” Then in a lower voice. “It was just the whole naked with cream stuff I wanted to keep a lid on. Because uh…I realize now how dumb that was.” I’m about to tell him to forget the whole thing when he steps forward. “Hey, do you think if I’d just waited until you got back, you’d feel different about me now? If I’d been more patient?”

I’m not sure how to respond. It’s not a question I want to answer right now, especially since I know the answer is sure to sour the air between us.

“I don’t know, Drew.” I sigh. “I mean, honestly, you’re…gorgeous, and you were so cool about the whole thing back in Maine, but I think we’re just too different. I…”

“What happened to my drink?” Kandi’s voice grates between us as she bats her lashes at Drew. He looks like he wants to say more but ends up flashing me a resigned nod before going after Kandi.

Which is a relief…because there’s something I need to do.

It’s a dumb idea.Sodumb, and most likely fueled by martinis and the intoxicating fumes of rare designer perfumes, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

I reach the bar where I signal to a bartender finishing up an order of shots.

“Could I trouble you for a pen?” I ask while reaching across the gleaming surface to pluck a white napkin from a golden square holder.

He obliges, producing not only a slim golden pen, but also a shot of tequila from the tray.

I down the shot, then, before I can change my mind, I lean against the bar, pressing pen to napkin.

After five or so minutes, Francis floats into my periphery.

“Spill,” he says with a curious grin. “What were you saying to Vandenbaby back there?”

I sigh. Francis and I have always had somewhat of acomplex relationship. Complex because I’ve never quite figured out where his loyalty lies. He’s everyone and no one’s friend, depending on his mood. Which is why I never give him more than a crumb of the gossip that fuels him. In this case, I can’t even give him that because I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Vandenwhat?” I say. “Why is everyone acting weird all of a sudden?” I sigh as I fold the napkin in two and place it on the bar.

I’m sure Francis is about to deliver a sassy retort but is interrupted when a stumbling figure moves toward us, her hands reaching for any degree of support.

Amber staggers through the crowds, eyes glazed, smile dizzy, strides humorously overcalculated. Her entire demeanor reminds me of past meetings with club security when she’d tried to convince them she wasn’t one vodka sniff from catatonic.

“I saw you,” she slurs before pinching my butt with her pointed nails. “You’ve got some serioushs’plaining to do.”

Amber clamps a limp hand over her mouth, shoulders hitching as she giggles in slow motion.

“Jeez Amber, it’s not even midnight.” I grin while Francis and I help her onto a bar stool.

“I think what she’s trying to say is, would you mind telling us what you were doing talking with Mr. Midas himself?” Francis asks before lunging to stop Amber sliding from the stool while delivering her a scathing look.

“Who?” I shake my head. “I was talking to Jack.”

“Jack? Don’t play innocent. You were talking to the person responsible for this place, and pretty much every other ritzy establishment this side of town, and beyond.” Francis waits for me to catch on. I do not.

“Are you talking about the Vandenberg Group?” I laughobnoxiously. “No, no. That was Jack, someone I met when I was a kid.”

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