Page 84 of Paint the Town, Dove
“You look marvellous by the way,” Zayla looped her arm through mine, taller now in her jaguar stilettos.
“To be expected,” Polly grinned, handing me her drink.
I took a sip, made a face. “Is this Macallan?”
She shrugged. “Some dick at the bar said it’d be too strong to handle.”
“So you took it anyway,” I smirked, handing it over.
She hammered it back in one gulp. “The sweet taste of victory.”
A league of her own.
We waded through producers and musicians, my eye out for the only person I cared to congratulate. The guest of honor,missing, at his own party.
“Have any of you seen Ryden?” I asked.
Before they could answer, Tav appeared, side by side with a woman I’d never seen before in my entire life.
Huh. New fling?
She said something, they both did, but over the music I couldn’t hear for shit.
“WHAT?” I yelled.
“NICE TO MEET YOU!” The unknown woman said. She had brown hair, blonde streaks, pretty face, square jaw. Her eyes were wide, eager. Coke?Did Ryden sell it to her?
Get that fucking thought out of your head, Scarlett Emory-Blake.
Where thehellis he?
Tav lead us five to a quieter booth in the back.
“These parties rupture my hearing,” Polly folded an ear. “Aren’t they networking events?”
“Just an excuse to have fun!” Zayla beamed.
And toaward the artist who wasn’t even present.
“Scarlett, glad of you to make it.” Tav tapped my elbow. He was drinking something clear.
“Mhm,” I folded my arms, “where’s the boy of the hour, then?”
He sighed. “Morty took him home.”
Anger pelted up my spine. “Of course he did, right! What?” I laughed, “he couldn’t handle being here? In a room full of people who fawn over him? That wastoomuch for the great Ryden Spectre?”
Cut the bullshit, Scarlett. You’re fucking angry.
And I was.
Not the time.
I couldn’t help it.
I was angry.
Angry at the world. Angry at Ryden for reminding me of what I fought so hard to forget.
