Page 59 of Counting On You

“I don’t see why you would. There will be drinks, fun. Heck, you can even call Bruce and rub it in his arrogant face.”

I let the arrogant part slip as my pulse picks up speed. Maybe all’s not lost.

Back in my room, I used Kade’s phone to check if Bruce had replied. Instead of an email, I found that he had unfriended me on Facebook. His actions hurt, but what hurt me more was the discovery that he had accepted my catfish account’s friend request.

Is Bruce into blondes like most guys are said to be?

“How did you get this drive?” I ask.

“A friend?” Kade half asks, half states.

“He has to be a really good friend if he sends a limo.”

He shrugs. “I guess everyone has a price. People’s loyalty can be bought.”

I’m not sure I wholly agree with that, but I let it slide.

“I can’t believe the driver even found this place. Whoever hired him must be rich.”

“Cash Boyd.” Kade raises his eyebrows at my clueless face. “You don’t know him?”

I shake my head. “Should I?”

“Club 69.”

That doesn’t ring a bell either.

“Cash is probably the richest nightclub owner in the world. He’s in the magazines all the time,” Kade elaborates, which earns him another clueless expression from me. “Where the hell have you been living, Vicky?”

“If you want to make fun of me because I don’t read the kind of magazines you’re probably referring to, then please, go ahead. Be my guest. I don’t mind.”

I don’t feel that I’ve been missing out just because I don’t frequent clubs or don’t know who the hell his friend is. That just isn’t me.

I stare at him, challenging him to start ridiculing me. But he doesn’t.

The car takes off and I turn to the window, looking at the woods passing us by even though it’s too dark to make out more than the trees and branches’ silhouettes.

“You know what? I won’t,” Kade says. “I’m going to shut up and pretend I never asked.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a bottle, examining it shortly before lifting it up to show me the label. “Drinks?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I get drunk easily.”

In the reflection of the tinted window, I see him inclining his head. His expression is the same one he used on me before. “This is a five-hundred dollar bottle, baby. And it’s free, courtesy of my friend. Are you telling me in all honesty that you’re not interested in trying a drop?”

Turning to him, I eye the bottle, wondering how people can justify spending so much money on a bottle of wine. Then again, they can afford it and probably don’t know what else to do with their money.

I do feel a bit thirsty, and I haven’t had wine in a long time.

“What’s the harm, right? I’ll have half a glass.”

“Good choice.” He retrieves two wine glasses from a cabinet and places them on a small counter before pouring the wine.

“That’s more than enough,” I say, signaling him when to stop.

He hands me my glass and lifts his. “Here’s to us breaking all the rules.”

I nod my head and take a sip, then another.

Damn.

That’s one good wine and definitely worth its price tag.

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