Page 28 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
We’re at Lula’s, a local Mexican restaurant where the three of us always meet in Venice Beach, at a table loaded with margaritas, baskets of tortilla chips, and a vat of salsa. Kat and Grace sit across from me. While Kat has been carefully listening to my retelling of the story about what happened with Eric, Grace has been fidgeting, anxious for me to get to the good part.
Right on cue, she demands, “Chloe, enough already. Get to the good part.”
Kat looks confused. “How can there possibly be a good part?”
I send Grace an evil glare I learned from watching A.J. practice it on me. Completely unfazed by it, she says, “That’s interesting. Did you pick up that little voodoo stare from your new boyfriend?”
It sucks when your friends are smarter than you.
I put my nose in the air and act like she hasn’t spoken. “What Grace means by ‘good part,’ Kat, is actually the worst part.”
Kat’s eyes narrow. She looks me up and down, as if checking for bruises.
I throw up my hands. “What is it with everyone assuming that because Eric’s a cop he’s going to beat me!” I glare at Grace. “Or burn a cross on someone’s lawn! On behalf of our police force, I’m insulted! Besides, you guys have known him for months, he’s a sweetheart.”
Kat—apologetically, I have to admit—says, “We also knew Jeremy for months before we found out he was the one stealing all your underwear. And wearing it.”
Grace points out with her usual dastardly logic, “And I wouldn’t call a man who destroys your favorite vase in a snit just because you had a tiny tongue slipup a ‘sweetheart.’ I’d call him unbalanced, and then I’d call him a cab and send his sorry ass home.”
“Calling a man another man’s name in a moment of passion—no matter if there was penetration—is not a tiny tongue slipup, Grace. It’s unforgiveable.”
“Oh, honey, give me just a slight break, will you? I’ve called men by the wrong name when they were doing everything from eating my cookie to plowing my corn hole! That boy just needs to grow thicker skin.”
With a groan, I drop my head to the tabletop and hide my face in my folded arms.
Someone says a tentative, “Excuse me.”
I look up and see a wide-eyed girl of about seventeen standing tableside, clutching a rolled-up magazine and a pen. The style of her clothes and general lack of sophistication suggest she’s a Midwestern farm girl. She stares adoringly at Kat.
“A-are you Kat Reid? The makeup artist? Nico Nyx’s fiancée?”
Kat and I look at each other. Wow. This is weird. Nico and Kat aren’t even married yet, and she’s already a celebrity. This girl wants her autograph.
Grace takes charge. “Oh, she gets that all the time, don’t you, Hortense? I hear the resemblance is uncanny.”
Farm Girl looks unconvinced.
“Honestly,” Grace insists, “would Nico Nyx’s fiancée be out having dinner in a crappy Mexican restaurant with no bodyguard?” Her laugh is indulgent. “I don’t think so.”
I know for a fact that she does have a bodyguard, Barney, who discreetly watches us from his position near the kitchen door. Knowing Nico, there are also half a dozen ninjas posted around as well, lurking under manhole covers or hanging upside down from the rafters like bats. His protectiveness of her is legendary.
The girl squints at Kat, then makes up her mind. “You’re right. I’m such a silly willy!” She wags the magazine in Kat’s general direction. “You’re much thinner than she is.”
She trots off. Grace bursts into gales of laughter.
“Oh, be quiet, Grace. You know the camera adds ten pounds,” says Kat, disgruntled.
She’s got the figure of a fifties sex symbol, all boobs and butt and tiny waist, and is a little sensitive about it. Personally, I think she’s beautiful. Guys are always going gaga over her curves. Standing next to her, I feel like an underfed giraffe.
“Ah, the perils of fame!” Grace says between hoots.
“Can we get back to the important topic here? Mainly, what was the worst part of your story, Chloe?”
I have to take several long swallows of my margarita before I work up the courage to speak. “The worst part . . . was the name I called Eric. Which . . . was . . .” I clear my throat. “A.J.”
Kat frowns. “Well, obviously that’s a mistake. You couldn’t have possibly been thinking of A.J., you’re not even attracted to him.”
I pull my lips between my teeth and stare at her.
