Page 21 of The Oscar Escape
The blondes bolted, and the crowd went wild. Oscar, however, wasn’t cheering. He elbowed his way through the mass of people. Shit could not go down—not with a sea of glowing cell phones pointed her way.
Justin sprang to his feet. “Aria, babe, calm down. It’s not what you think,” the man pleaded. The mic amplified his words, giving everyone a front-row seat to this lovers’ spat.
“Calm down?” she shot back. “What kind of idiot man tells a woman to calm down? When in the history of calming down did a woman ever calm down after a man uttered those words?”
“Amen, sister,” a woman in the crowd called.
Aria pointed to the couch. “Is that a G-string?”
“It’s not what you think. I don’t know where that came from.”
One of the blondes skittered back to the couch. “Sorry to intrude. I had to come back for these,” she explained and plucked the panties from the sofa. She held them up like a spokesmodel on a lingerie game show. “They’re La Perla and cost me a fortune.”
“And they’re hella cute,” Aria exclaimed in one long, bubbly breath.
What was happening here? Why was Aria smiling at the woman?
“For what it’s worth,” the blonde added. “I love that instrumental song on your website.”
“Killer melody,” some guy in the swarm called.
Whoever the dude was, he was correct. Oscar knew what they were talking about. Thanks to keeping a close eye on the internet chatter, he’d viewed the video of Aria playing a complex, sweeping piece on the piano. He’d watched the clip a thousand times. It was haunting and sounded nothing like her usual music. It was the first glimpse he’d seen of her in ages.
Aria glanced at the crowd, then gifted the commando blonde with a grin. “That’s very kind of you. I appreciate the feedback.” But as quickly as she’d donned the pleasant expression, she sharpened her features. “Now take your expensive underwear and see yourself out,” she ordered, regaining her edge. Sure, it was a somewhat sloppy edge, but it was still that trademark Aria tough-as-nails edge. She turned her attention to Justin. “You don’t get to make excuses or lie to me anymore. What you were up to tonight is exactly what I thought it was. You’re a—” She pointed to her foot and started tapping. Oscar cringed. Busting out the secret foot tap language they’d used as kids to call people naughty words wouldn’t help her appear any less insane.
“What are you doing, babe? Do you think your feet can talk?” Justin asked.
“Can’t you hear it?” Aria whispered into the mic. “Can’t you feel the wrath of my foot?”
Justin plastered on a nervous grin and glanced from the crowd to Aria. “Babe, nobody can hear anything because feet can’t talk.”
This guy was not the sharpest tool in the shed. What did she see in him?
“Let me translate my super-secret foot tap language for you and everyone here. I tapped five times.”
This was getting worse by the second. Oscar maneuvered through a light storm of camera flashes.
“Justin,” she announced, “you’re a butthole douche nozzle. Butthole, two taps. Douche nozzle, three taps.”
A collective gasp emanated from the crowd.
“Babe, you’re not yourself. I’m blowing off a little steam before I go on tour. You know how it goes,” he said, taking a step toward her. He cocked his head to the side. “What the hell happened to your face?”
Aria hopped off the table and nearly fell over. Justin tried to help her, but she smacked his hands away, then ran a finger across her forehead. “I don’t know what the hell is spackled to my skin,” she roared and flicked the glop of makeup on Justin’s chest. “What I do know is that I am more myself now than I have been in a long time—like in my song, Jussy.”
Shit!She was back to quoting her lyrics again. She probably didn’t even remember she’d just done it with the blondes.
Aria took a step closer to Mr. Boy Band. “You gotta believe in who you are, know yourself, know your heart.And your heart is a lying heart. You’re a cheating douche nozzle butthole who lip sync’s his way through every performance.”
The crowd produced a full-throated gasp.
Justin lost the regretful-boyfriend vibe and loomed over Aria.
That asshat better not do anything stupid.
Oscar jumped the VIP velvet rope and booked it past the DJ. He was almost to Aria. There was no time to lose. Justin’s pretty boy plastic grin twisted into a scowl. He grabbed Aria’s arm like he was ready to drag her ass out of there.
Oscar clenched his jaw. This kid would be lucky if the only thing he left this club with was a limp.
