Page 33 of Dark Endures

“How do I look?” Dahlia asks for the nine hundredth time. “Maybe I should change.”

If she changes, I’m going to have no time at the club before I have to leave for work. As it is, it took an hour to get her into the limo. “You look amazing.”

“I’m not showing too much?”

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. She’s literally showing a quarter inch of cleavage and three inches of her thigh. I have shorts that show more skin. That reminds me, I should bring them on my beach trip. “You look amazing.”

“How are you so confident?”

Me confident? I’m standing next to a woman wearing a thousand-dollar dress—it seems Vex talked her out of the thrift store mini-skirt and into something designer—in a ten-year-old thrifted sparkly outfit with shoes that I fixed with nail polish yet again. “The truth is, most people don’t care what you’re wearing. They care how you wear it.” Mom taught me that years ago, and it’s never failed me. “Stand up straight. Hold your head high. Remember, they’re people too with all their own flaws. No one cares about yours unless they’re jealous of you.” I can almost hear Mom saying that with her cigarette hanging from her fingertips, covered in scarlet lipstick. People always looked at her. And it was never to complain about the quality of her outfit.

“And what about them staring for other reasons?” Her voice takes on a quiet fear.

If you’re me, you remember to kick them where it hurts—also a skill I learned from Mom—and yell. “That’s what you have Maverick for.”

And Dahlia’s back to grinning. “When did you go to your first club?”

When I was eight. But no one wants to hear the truth. “I’d sneak in as a teenager with my fake ID.” Though no onechecked for that where I went. They all knew me. There weren’t a whole lot of clubs by my boarding school. Hanging out with the rich kids had some benefits.

Dahlia’s eyes go wide. “I wish we were friends back then.”

Do I wish the same? My friends from school are pretty amazing. But it never hurts to have another friend. “Me too.”

“We’re here.” Dahlia dances in her seat as we approach the rope where Vex waits.

Is it possible that he looks angrier than ever? That man terrifies me, and she’s smiling like we’re approaching a puddle of cuddly puppies.

I just can’t.

***

An hour ago, I was dancing and drinking some of the best drinks of my life. Now I’m cleaning up after snakes. The world is weird right now. Mom’s last boyfriend would say something about cognitive dissonance. I’m just going to go with weird. “You understand weird, don’t you, Hot Dog?”

She’s sliding across my shoulders as we wait for her neighbor Sweetie to finish soaking.

All I get is a tongue flick for a response.

Not that I need someone to talk to at one in the morning when I’m slightly buzzed, but not even close to tipsy. Watching two people in love is as sickening as it is sweet.

They have me completely convinced there is such a thing as love. How can there not be when a man like Vex dotes on a woman? He stayed by her side every moment of the evening, catering to her every need.

Men like that aren’t real. At least not for long.

“You’re here awfully late.” Canyon walks in.

“I could say the same for you.” Slowly, so as not to jostle Hot Dog, I stand up.

“Night shift security is my excuse. What’s yours?”

Um. “This is my job.”

Canyon leans against a shelf. “I’m pretty sure Maddox didn’t require you to come in at one in the morning to work.”

“Where’s the flirty Canyon?” This is why I prefer talking to snakes than to people.

“Oh, I’m still flirty. I’m just a bit confused by the eye makeup, slight smell of smoke, and liquor.”

Smoke? Maverick’s club is nonsmoking.

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