Page 31 of Sanctuary

A couple more guys join us. Shots are poured. Weed appears.

I don’t really feel like drinking today. I’m starting to develop a headache, but the conversation flows smoothly. Lots of talk about money and potential markets and strategies.

So the least I can do is pretend to be enjoying this little get-together.

Things become muddy after a couple of drinks. Yes, an empty stomach will do that to you. Eventually, I find myself sandwiched between Jett and Mick, the leather of the seatsticking to my thighs in a way that’s unpleasant. The table is littered with empty glasses and overflowing ashtrays. The air is heavy with the stench of cigarette smoke and weed.

Mick signals to a passing waitress, his hand grazing her ass as she leans in to take his order. I look away.

Is this what Jett aspires to? This clichéd caricature of wealth and power?

The waitress returns with a bottle of champagne, the label proclaiming it to be some rare vintage. Mick pops the cork with practiced ease, and the foam spills over onto the table. He fills four flutes, handing them out with a flourish.

"To new partnerships," he toasts, his eyes fixed on me. "And to the beautiful women who inspire us."

I raise my glass, then take a sip, and the champagne is bitter on my tongue. Jett and Clem are immediately deep in conversation, their heads bent together conspiratorially. I tune out their talk of market shares and distribution deals as my eyes wander over the people crowding the rest of the tent and the VIP area.

"So what do you do, Wendy?" a voice asks off to the side. "Besides being a beautiful young woman?"

I turn and meet Mick’s gaze.

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my thigh, fingers inching beneath the hem of my dress. I stiffen, and my breath catches in my throat. Mick leans in close, his alcohol breath hot against my ear.

"You know," he murmurs in a suggestive voice. "There's a lot of opportunity in this business. For a girl like you, the sky's the limit."

His hand creeps higher. Yes, I’m buzzed, but not buzzed enough to ignore the fact that his touch is making my skin crawl.

I glance desperately at Jett, but he's lost in his own world, his eyes glazed over as if he’s staring into some far-off universe where he’s the biggest star of the show.

"I think you’re misinterpreting," I tell Mick quietly, hoping that I sound ballsy enough for him to get the hint.

Just as tension knots in the silence, a girl drifts over to Mick's other side. She giggles and slaps his shoulder, inviting him to join her for shots.

Grim relief washes over me. I’m glad the old fart is preoccupied with someone else’s ass, but she’s not much older than me, so I don’t even know what I should feel.

I clear my throat as I lean toward Jett and whisper in his ear, "Hey, babe? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Jett barely glances my way, his eyes still locked on Clem. "Not now, Wendy. We're in the middle of something."

I press on. "Jett. Please."

He sighs loudly. His face is a huge mask of annoyance as he turns to me. "What is it?"

I lower my voice some more. "It's just... Mick's getting a little handsy. It's making me uncomfortable."

Jett's gaze flicks to Mick, whose hand has already slipped under the girl’s skirt and is very blatantly grabbing her ass check.

"Come on," my boyfriend mutters. "He's just being friendly. Don't make a big deal out of it."

I’m not sure if we’re looking at the same thing anymore. "So you don’t mind if he tries to finger me in front of everyone too?" I hiss out angrily.

"Shut up," he grits out, his eyes flashing with warning. "We need Mick, okay? So just...play nice."

He returns his attention to Clem, their conversation resuming as if I never spoke. I sit back, and my skin crawls as Mick's hand settles on my knee once more.

The music pulses around me. Laughter rings out, shrill and grating.

I feel like I can't breathe.

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