Page 105 of Beneath Her Skin

“But nothing, bitch! I haven’t seen you in like months. It’s a private event with a limited bar. We won’t be able to have more than maybe four drinks, plus we have a private ride to and from the club. This is seriously important to me, and I want my best friend there to support me.”

I shrink away from the camera, guilt wrapping around my heart. I miss her, too. The hardest part of this friendship is the fact we’re at different stages of life. She tolerates Miles and his rules, but she’s always independent, going to do her own thing when she wants to. Brooke doesn’t understand the delicate balance that comes with married life. A request like this, without asking Miles, is going to dig up so much drama.

“I’ll have to ask Miles,” I say.

Brooke shakes her head, her deep red curls dancing around her face.

“He’s not even there, right? Working late again. I promise, we will get home before he does, and he will never know.”

I let her words sink in.

Miles did say he wouldn’t be home until after midnight. It’s only 7:30 p.m. right now. If this truly is a private event, they usually end around 11:30 p.m. That would leave plenty of time to Uber home and quickly change before he knew anything happened while he was gone.

I bite my bottom lip as I weigh my options. The sting of my teeth digs into the tender flesh, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my system.

Flutters begin to build in my center. A renewed sense of excitement that I haven’t felt in a long time.

It wouldn’t kill me to have one night with my best friend. To let loose and just exist without feeling the need to please my husband. This is doable. I could do this.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Brooke squeals on the other end of the phone. “I know that face! I’ll be there in thirty to pick you up. Oh, bitch. I’m so ready for tonight!”

Brooke hangs up without saying goodbye.

I guess that’s my cue to get off my ass and get ready.

Now the problem is finding what to wear.

3

The black Cadillac stops outside a tall, brick building. Painted in all white, the neon marque shines golden light above the single door entrance. It proudly illuminates the club’s name into the surrounding darkness. A soft glow casts shadows over the sidewalk where a few patrons mingle while sharing a joint, if the earthy smell wafting towards us is any indication.

I stare at the building ahead, worrying my bottom lip. My mind races around what would happen if Miles found out I was here tonight.

The Black Rabbit.

The irony is not lost on me having an establishment withblackin the title, but painting the entirety of it white. Whoever the creators are must have a penchant for humor, creating a metaphor for innocence on the surface while sinful nature lurks within. It’s not my place to judge, because it’s also not lost on me on how similar this club and I are. Slipping through life, pretending to be the good girl everyone wants me to be. When in reality, there’s a darker need beneath the surface, begging to be released.

I hop out of the vehicle, careful to not stumble in my heeled boots. Deciding to be more modest tonight and let Brooke shine like a literal goddess, I opted for my go-to outfit. Ripped jeans that hug my ass in all the right ways, a luscious, silk top with a sweetheart neckline trimmed with lace, and my signature heeled boots. It’s understated while still maintaining an air of smoldering sex appeal. Which, if we’re being honest, I prefer over exaggerated fashion.

Brooke, on the other hand, hit it out of the park with her outfit. Always the fashion diva, she fit herself with high waisted black pants, flawlessly creased down the front. A lacey bralette top is paired with a black, feathered, cropped jacket. All pulled together with her snake skin boot and purse combo. She couldn’t be more of a model icon if she tried.

Brooke’s still hanging halfway out of the vehicle, sweet talking the driver. I swear, she could make friends with a wall if she wanted to. Always making connections and finding new people to bring into her life to fill it with good intentions.

It’s not that I don’t like making friends, per se. I just prefer to keep my circle small and only give my energy to the people I trust most. Which is its own kind of hypocrisy as I stand here, waiting to enter a sex club when I didn’t inform my husband of this outing. But Brooke assured me this was strictly for business. No sexcapades tonight. We get in, mingle, grab a few drinks, and get home before midnight.

I check the time on my phone before securely placing it in my studded clutch. A little over four hours before Miles is due home. I can do this. I deserve this. Brooke is right. I’ve been locked up for the past few weeks and need some time to relax.

“Bye! See you at 11:30,” Brooke yells as the car pulls away.

Sounds like Brooke might have found her own way to relax, too.

She joins me on the sidewalk, linking arms before we begin crossing the street.

“You find yourself a new date?” I giggle.

Brooke grins. “No. They’re not my type, but I did secure us a reliable ride home. It’s easier than waiting for whatever sleazy cab driver might be around at midnight. Even offered to pay double.”

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