“Even as a kid I wanted Cinderella to pretend the shoe didn’t fit so she could do something more interesting with her life than marry a prince.”
A slow smile broke across Tommy’s face. All around them, the party raged on, but at that moment, he was immune to it all. All he could see was Layla’s lovely face hovering just inches from his.
“Anyway, cheers!” She hoisted her glass and drained the shot in a single gulp.
“Did it work?” He cocked his head and waited expectantly.
Layla shrugged. “Too soon to tell. So, where’s your date?” She glanced all around as though looking for the blonde he’d arrived with, but in that particular crowd, it was a needle meet haystack situation.
“Last I saw she’d latched onto someone way more famous than me.”
“In this crowd, that could be just about anybody.”
Tommy laughed. “According to Malina, in order to build my fan base, I need to stay single.”
“That sounds a little . . . controlling.”
“It’s as good an excuse as any. Not like Tiki was a contender.”
“Tiki?” Layla made an exaggerated gaping face.
“Don’t mock. It’s not like I named her.”
Layla burst out laughing, and Tommy began to relax. It felt good to be back on friendly terms. He’d missed her feistiness, her friendship, and the easy banter they shared.
A waiter passed and Tommy was quick to claim two glasses and hand one to her. “How many of these have you had?”
Layla took a moment to think, then wiggled two fingers before him.
“Good.” He handed her a glass. “From what I remember, things don’t get interesting until number four.” When his gaze met hers, to his delight, he found she was grinning. “To Ira,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. “For better or worse, we have him to thank for all this.”
“To Ira!” Layla pressed the glass to her lips at the same moment the power went out.
TWENTY-FIVE
THE KILLING MOON
Aster and Ryan were heading up the hill toward the infamous party house when she turned to him and said, “Be honest, how many times have you come here before?” She shot him a sideways glance.
“Who, me?” Ryan flashed a coy grin; then, remembering who he was talking to, he copped to the truth. “One or two lingerie parties a few months back, that’s all.”
Aster took a moment to process. “So you’re a cross-dresser, or do you consider that cosplay?”
Ryan laughed, which, admittedly was the reaction she was after when she’d made the joke, and yet his casual attitude set her on edge. Here he’d been sleeping with Madison Brooks, arguably the most beautiful girl in the world, and yet he still couldn’t resist attending a party filled with half-naked girls. While his honesty was admirable, the male species’ seemingly insatiable appetite for eye candy left her deflated.
“Some Russian tycoon was trying to transform the place into the new Playboy Mansion, and a frien
d, who shall remain nameless, scored me an invite.”
“So now you’re friends with Voldemort?” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what’s with all the mystery? What do you think I’m going to do with the guy’s name—hand it over to Layla to post on her blog?”
“I’d just rather not drag him into the story without his consent, that’s all.”
Aster sighed in frustration. While Ryan was uncommonly transparent when it came to his own stuff, he took a much stingier approach when it came to doling out gossip. You’ll have to ask them—it’s not my story to tell, was his go-to reply whenever she questioned him about anything outside of Madison’s disappearance. It was annoying as hell.
“So . . . what was it like? The lingerie parties, I mean.” She couldn’t help it; she was totally intrigued by the things men did when their girlfriends weren’t looking.
After a moment’s hesitation, Ryan said, “Let’s just say Hef’s still the king. At least for now, anyway . . .”