Page 77 of Three Little Wishes

Riley sighed. “I guess we’re staying.”

“It’ll be okay. We’ll keep a low profile, and if Megan gets out of hand, we’ll call… Sage.”

“There’s one problem. I don’t have a phone or Sage’s number.”

“Me neither.” Cami tapped her pointer finger on her lips, trying to come up with an idea. “I’ve got it. We’ll yell fire, everyone will run out of the bar, and then we’ll grab her.”

Three minutes later, Cami’s hope of keeping a low profile ended. She’d forgotten about the bodybuilders. A microphone screeched, and she glanced toward the stage to the left of the bar. Last Call was famous for its karaoke. She couldn’t see through the crowd, but she recognized the deep voice booming, “Hey, Pretty Badass, your daddies are waiting. Get up here and shake your booty for us.”

“Is he frigging shitting me?”

Riley tugged on Cami’s arm. “Shh. Everyone’s looking over here.”

She hadn’t realized she was standing. But seriously. “PrettyBadass. I’m a straight-on badass.”

“Your hat saysPretty Badass,” Riley pointed out.

Cami took it off and turned it around. “Okay, but my daddies? Shake my booty? What are we, in the eighties?”

“We’re waiting, mama-licious!” the three of them yelled into the mic, and then Donna Summer’s “Love to Love You Baby” came through the speakers.

“I love that song!” a woman behind her yelled.

Cami turned her head. “Good. You go dance with him.” Just then she realized how loudly she’d spoken, and swore under her breath in Italian. Riley said the same thing, only not under her breath, when Willow marched over to their table.

“Cami! What are you doing here?” Willow picked up the half-empty beer mug. “You shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury!”

“Told you,” Riley muttered.

Which drew Willow’s wide-eyed gaze to her. “Riley?” She swatted Cami’s shoulder. “What were you thinking? She’s under…”—she glanced at the bartender and lowered her voice—“age.”

“So am I.” Cami inwardly rolled her eyes at herself. This was getting exhausting. “And don’t try and tell me you didn’t sneak into the bars when you were our ages,” Cami said, with all the teenage attitude she could muster. She never should’ve brought Riley to the bar.

“We so did.” Megan giggled, beaming at Cami in drunken glee. She must’ve started drinking before Willow got there. “I just love your mov—”

Willow elbowed her. “Outfit. She loves your outfit. Right, Megan?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Megan frowned. “Don’t you have a top and pants like that?”

“They’re mine.” Willow glanced toward the stage, where the bodybuilders were now dancing with the Beaches. “What’s up with those guys?”

“We stole their table, and they gave Cami their beer. She promised to dance with them,” Riley said.

“Thanks a lot, pal,” Cami said, looking up when the bartender arrived at their table with a tray of shots.

“Courtesy of the guys at the bar, the three at that table.” He hitched his thumb behind him, then he lifted his chin at a group of women three tables over from theirs. “And the ladies at that table.” As he set the shots down, he glanced at Cami. “Are you sure I don’t know you?”

“Of course you know her. Everyone knows—ouch.” Megan glared at Willow. “Why did you kick… Ohhh.” Her “oh” went on for at least a minute.

Cami pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Then she smiled up at the bartender. “They say we all have a twin. Maybe you know mine.”

“She looks exactly like Camilla Monroe. The actress.”

Willow stared at Megan. “I should’ve cut you off four drinks ago.”

Seventeen-year-old Cami wouldn’t know who Camilla Monroe was, so she stayed quiet.

“No idea who you’re talking about,” the bartender said as his gaze moved from Cami to Willow. He nodded. “Now I know why you look familiar. You two could be twins. You’re not related to the Rosettis, are you?”

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