Chapter 8 – cat
CAT
“Cheers to finally getting you to go out!” Pippa cheers, raising her espresso martini.
I clink my glass of rosé against hers. “And cheers to you for dragging me kicking and screaming, looking perfectly elegant the whole time.”
She grins and does a little twirl for me, managing not to trip over her sky-high stilettos. She looks sharp as always, with her signature red lipstick and winged eyeliner. “I do my best. Now, tell me this isn’t more fun than sitting around watching rom-coms in your living room.”
I glare. “Hey. Don’t knock my Paul Rudd and Pina Coladas parties. You know they’re top-tier.”
“True. But it’s nice to see you in something other than work clothes and pajama pants.”
Pippa insisted on taking me out to celebrate the new job.
I swapped a shift with Sandy so we could spend Thursday night at Velvet & Vice.
Pippa loaned me one of her dresses, a pale gold and bronze frock that’s a micro-mini on her.
On me, it’s practically knee-length. At least it’s nice enough that I blend in with the glamorous party-goers.
I’ve never actually been inside the nightclub under the restaurant, but it’s gorgeous.
Red and fuchsia lights reflect off the mirrored bar and modern bronze light fixtures.
A stunning DJ with waist-length microbraids plays sultry music in front of a large dance floor.
Elevated dark booths line the back wall, giving VIPs a place to drink champagne and watch the dancers writhing below.
Since Pippa and I aren’t exactly ballers, we settled for sipping our drinks at a high-top table.
Pippa brushes her dark hair behind her ears. “So. How is it working for Grouchzilla?”
“Fine so far. I started training on Monday, and it’s pretty easy. Manage his calendar, put together his travel itineraries, make sure that moth monster he hates stays underground.”
Pippa snorts. “Come on, though. Serious answer, Cat.”
“I’ve got two more days of training. It’s mostly sitting in a back office finishing a computer course. HR put together this whole program to get new assistants up to speed, since Nate apparently goes through them like candy bars.”
She wrinkles her nose. “What does he do to them, stick forks in their eyeballs?”
“Don’t worry. The HR lady promised me, spoons only.”
“If you keep deflecting, you’re going to make me think you’ve got Stockholm Syndrome. Is he treating you okay, Cat?”
I shrug. “He hasn’t had a chance to treat me well or badly. I haven’t seen Nate in days.”
Confusion flashes across her face. “But you’re staying with him. How’s that possible?”
“He said he was never home. I thought it was a figure of speech, but apparently, he lives at his desk.”
Granted, I haven’t been in the apartment much, either. Most days I go straight from training at UPS to work at Terrace, with shifts at the shelter squeezed in whenever I have a few free hours.
Which is too bad, because Nate’s apartment rules.
My room has the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, complete with zillion-thread count sheets and a pile of pillows.
I always bring my morning tea back to bed so I can enjoy the gorgeous view of the city and the harbor below.
I only have one more night before I go back to my place, so I need to soak up the luxury while I can.
Even my guest bathroom is unbelievable. I’ve never seen Nate’s housekeeper, but I know she puts out fresh fluffy towels and robes for me every day.
There’s even a whole cabinet fully stocked with fancy shampoos, conditioners, and soap—even some amazing bubble bath that made me smell like honey and vanilla.
Obviously, Nate doesn’t use the bubble bath.
I’m guessing I use the bathroom he lets his female guests use after their one-night stands.
I try not to think too much about the women who bathed there before me.
If I don’t stop myself, I end up wondering what they look like and whether I’m anything close to Nate’s usual type.
“Well, I guess it’s good that he’s keeping his distance,” Pippa says. “If the new job is just a job, then I’m happy for you. But I wish you’d stay at my place instead.”
“As much as I’d love having sleepovers with you, I’m good without the hour-long commute, thanks. Besides, I think I should be able to go back to my place tomorrow.”
“Wait, they actually fixed your door without making you wait a month? What happened to your lazy super?”
I swallow the last of my wine. “A new property management company bought the building. They promised they’d install new security cameras and fix the window.
My neighbor told me they’re even thinking about putting in one of those fancy video camera doorbells so we can check people’s identities before we buzz them up. ”
“Hell yeah! I think that deserves another round.” Pippa grabs my hand and pulls me toward the bar, where the music and conversation is about ten times louder.
As we weave through the crowd of people, I’m reminded for the thousandth time how much it sucks to be short in a crowd. I can’t poke my head up to see where we’re going when I can’t see over the shoulders of anyone around me.
The bar is packed, but Pippa manages to find a space to squeeze herself in.
While she tries to flag down the bartender, I do a little people-watching.
There’s a girl in a wedding veil and a sash doing shots with her bridesmaids.
Behind her, a tall blonde woman makes out with an even taller, blonder man.
They look like a pair of Vikings ready to start spawning a whole family of warriors.
And behind them, I catch a brief glimpse of a tall man in a dark suit.
Wait, is that Nate?
Did he seriously leave his office to come party in a nightclub? That doesn’t feel like him. He’s such a serious guy, I can’t imagine cocktails and dancing being his idea of a good time. When he needs to unwind, he probably just drinks whiskey and stares at a wall.
I crane my neck, trying to confirm whether it’s really him. Then the bachelorette party heads to the dance floor, blocking my view and making me lose sight of him.
“A little help here, Cat?” Pippa calls. She’s juggling refills for both of us plus shot glasses full of something clear.
I grab my glasses automatically. “When did we decide on shots?”
“We didn’t. They’re from the bartender.” She gestures behind the bar to a man whose eyes are directly glued to my cleavage. “You’ve got an admirer, Cat.”
“Not a subtle one.” I take the shot anyway, in the spirit of girls night. It would be sacrilegious not to. The tequila burns my throat, and I suck on my lime slice to dispel the fire. When I look up at Pippa, her mouth is hanging open, the shot glass still in her hand.
“What the hell is he doing?” she says.
I turn and try to figure out what she’s looking at. Yet again, the crowd is way too tall for me to see much. “Who’s doing what?”
“My evil stepbrother.” Pippa points to one of the elevated booths along the wall.
I can make out the figures of a tall man with a leggy redhead sitting on his lap.
He’s got one arm extended casually along the back of the booth, and he’s gazing into the woman’s eyes while he makes little circles on her bare thigh with his thumb.
The redhead is the kind of cool alt girl you instantly aspire to be like.
Her hair’s pulled back into a loose mermaid braid, and she’s got a half-sleeve of black botanical tattoos.
She’s playing with the lowest button of Ryan’s already mostly-unbuttoned shirt.
His build is lankier than Nate’s, but I can make out his wiry muscles.
“Whoa. They seem really into each other,” I tell her.
Pippa snorts. “They might as well be having sex right there. Can you believe what she’s wearing?”
I tilt my head. The redhead’s gray leather minidress isn’t any more scandalous than Pippa’s own black dress.
Maybe Pippa’s talking about her high-heeled combat boots, which might not be everyone’s taste.
Personally, I think they’re kind of cool, even if I’d never be able to pull them off.
I don’t get the feeling that’s what Pippa wants to hear right now, though.
Fortunately, I don’t have to come up with an answer. Because Ryan pulls the redhead to straddle him, and Pippa lets out a sputtering gasp.
“Is he serious? They’re in public! Why doesn’t he just take her upstairs if he wants to fuck?”
Ryan drags his hands from the redhead’s legs to her ass, pulling up the hem of her dress while he’s at it.
We can see the contrast of her creamy skin and black lace panties against his tanned hands as he squeezes her flesh.
She doesn’t seem phased by the exposure.
She just grinds her hips harder against his.
“That’s a lot,” I admit.
And it’s…kind of hot. They look completely lost in each other, like they don’t give a shit who’s watching. Or maybe they like the attention. Maybe they like flaunting how gorgeous they both are, putting on a show that’s so sexy, anyone near them can’t help but watch.
Ryan kisses along the line of her neck, and she throws her head back in apparent ecstasy. She drags her nails down his mostly-exposed chest, and he takes the opportunity to flip her so she’s lying underneath him on the booth seat.
Pippa puts her hands over her eyes. “God, I can’t even look. He’s shameless! Such a pig. And apparently, he’s fine basically having sex in public.”
“At least he’s only your stepbrother. No one would look at you and think you’re related.”
“True.” She chuckles.
“And hey, even though he’s a total man-whore, he never hit on you! God, that would be disgusting.”
“For sure,” Pippa says, though there isn’t much fire behind it. She looks down at the shot glass in her hand like she’s just remembered that it’s there. She throws it back and grabs my hand. “Come on, let’s go dance.”