32. Luna
CHAPTER 32
Luna
“Hurry up!” Faith shouted at me as I picked at the dress I donned. It was the fifth one I'd tried on this morning and it still wasn't hitting like it should.
I’d come back from my weekend upstate with more problems than I'd left with. All the relaxation from that time away evaporated into thin air the second we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.
I’d been working like a beast ever since.
Parvati called to let me know that we still weren't getting anywhere close to finalizing the permit sign offs from the city. My blood boiled and my blood pressure shot through the roof (I imagine, I didn't actually check), and sure enough that throbbing between my eyes resumed in full force.
Luckily, Faith agreed to this little shopping adventure in between my morning at the Chateau and my evening at Club Deux. If I didn't find a winner in about ten minutes, I'd be seriously screwed.
The Sexual Assault Survivors Network Gala was just a day away and dammit if I wanted to look good. For me, sure, and because I’d have Beck Bennet on my arm, but also because I wanted to prove to Carter that I was fine and had moved on.
Take that.
And I was starting to become suspicious that she was withholding my permit intentionally. Not only had she ignored my emails, but she'd fully given me bad intel.
Unacceptable and unprofessional. I wanted to channel my inner real “ Housewife ” and call her out on it, but I would hold myself back, become the epitome of decorum and diplomacy.
Work and reality hit like a ton of bricks.
While I’d stepped back in terms of the gala planning, I still garnered a lot of sponsors and items for the silent auction. So when the email came in—again—from Carter reminding me of the details, I wanted to throttle him. Not great considering the cause we were raising money for, so instead of violence I chose a five-minute meditation and when that didn't work, I did a midnight jog with my personal billionaire bodyguard keeping pace next to me.
It didn't help much.
And standing in front of this mirror was only adding to my irritation. I usually stuck to the silhouettes I knew flattered my body and none of them were fancy enough for the event.
“You need to try the emerald gown,” Faith insisted. “Like I told you from the beginning.”
My eyes found hers in the mirror. “It's too... demure .”
Faith cocked her head. “What's wrong with that? You're making demure sound like a four-letter word.”
I picked at the dress in question. “Demure isn't exactly my style. I'm more leather and sky-high heels.”
Faith jumped up from her chair and picked the dress from the rack. “All the more reason to try something new. Besides, this dress will have Beck drooling all over you.”
I ran my fingers over the delicate bodice. “You think?”
“I know.”
I peeked at her from beneath my lashes. “I wouldn't mind making that man drool.”
She hip-checked me. “Someone will have to walk behind him with a mop.”
“Fiinne, I’ll try it.”
Faith beamed. “You’ll thank me later.”
* * *
Someone knocked on my office door, which was just as well because my bleary eyes couldn't review another spreadsheet. I’d double checked the inventory review and read through the recommendations put together by my bar leads.
It told me many things, like what people were ordering, what people asked for that we didn't have in terms of brands, and evaluated if we should change up our buying habits.
This happened monthly to keep my fingers on the pulse of things.
“Come in,” I called, shutting my laptop.
“We're ready for you,” Monroe said, poking her head through the crack in the door.
I pushed back from the desk. “Let's get to it.”
The sober curious movement meant more people were asking for non-alcoholic drinks, which I was all in favor of, so I requested a taste test. Since I couldn't taste test our cocktails, it was a nice change of pace.
My team set up a table for me and I rubbed my hands together as my head mixologist came out from behind the bar with the first drink.
“We need to set up an additional tasting with some key customers.” I rattled off a short list of regulars who often ordered mocktails. The mockjito I tried the other day had been fabulous, and I was thrilled to try some more.
Then my phone chimed.
Beck
I had to Google the details for the gala.
I stifled a laugh as the message popped on my screen. Setting my glass down, I considered my reply.
Luna
Oh, yeah, and did you find the info you were looking for?
Beck
Obviously. But it should have come from you.
Luna
I told you you're my date.
Beck:
And yet gave me no details.
Beck
You realize I need to get my suit dry cleaned.
Luna
That seems like a you problem.
Beck
Luna
Luna
Beck
Beck
You drive me ducking nuts sometimes.
Beck
Ducking not ducking.
Beck
Ducking auto correct.
Luna
You use that language around Alice? Tsk tsk.
Beck
Luna
Luna
I’m busy. Talk tomorrow.
I placed my phone face down on the table and ignored it as it chimed and vibrated knowing full well I’d just annoyed the hell out of Beck.
Mission accomplished.
Monroe sank into the seat next to me, clapping her hands. “This is my favorite part of the month.”
“Same, girl. Same.”
My head bartender came out with a tray of pink drinks. “Here we have the Pink Flamingo. It's a mix of pineapple and lime.” They went on to explain where the pink color came from, grenadine, and the lime soda helped give it the feel of alcohol without the booze itself.
Next to us sat a score sheet where we would capture our thoughts. Monroe and I tasted and kept our opinions to ourselves until the end to ensure we weren't accidentally influencing the other person’s score.
We snacked on pretzels in between drinks. There'd be five of them, per usual. The mockjito made a reappearance. “I didn't mull it enough when I sent you home with the tester,” the bartender insisted.
This time they served it in a gorgeous art déco highball glass. I enjoyed buying glassware for the bar because it made the drink even more special when it came out in a unique glass.
Monroe and I sipped our respective drinks and then looked at each other. I tried to suss out if she felt the same way as me. Sometimes our telepathy was on point.
Then she broke the standoff by pointing to the glass. “That's very good. I'm not even missing the alcohol.”
Okay, so we weren’t very good at following our own rules.
I tapped my notepad with my pen. “Agreed, and that's exactly what we want to achieve with this menu.”
“Sir, the house is closed,” Niemand, one of our bouncers, said.
“She's expecting me,” the intruder replied in that deep, rumbling voice of his that sent a thrill between my thighs.
The man sauntered in hot as sin in his usual uniform and his hair freshly cut. No doubt in preparation for tomorrow's gala.
He slid into the empty seat next to Monroe and introduced himself. Monroe practically salivated over him, and who could blame her? The man was absolutely drool worthy.
Then his gaze landed on me, and I sat back in my chair as I absorbed the full force of him.
“You know why I'm here.”
“Want me to babysit Alice again?” I pretended to search for her in the empty bar.
Beck slipped his arm behind me, and I tried to suppress a shiver. “I’m working.”
He ran his fingers through my hair. “And as soon as we solidify a time for us to leave for the gala, I’ll head home and have dinner with Alice.”
That sounded cozy. Something must have shown on my face because Beck cupped my chin. “I’ll save you some spaghetti.”
I barely noticed as Monroe sipped on her drink, eyes bulging as she volleyed between the two of us.
Then the bartender arrived, clearing the table and setting down the next round. Beck finally released me from his grip, and I suddenly wished that I didn’t have a busy night ahead of me.
Three drinks. They’d brought three drinks.
“He’s not staying.” I tried handing the drink back, but Beck swept it up out of my fingers.
He took a long sip, and I ignored the tanned column of his neck. “Delicious.”
“Mmmhmm,” Monroe nodded, blatantly staring at my man.
My man.
Whoa, were we sure those drinks didn’t have alcohol in them? I was losing my senses over here.
Beck smacked his lips. “Is that pomegranate I’m tasting? It’s refreshing. And the hint of mint adds some dimension. What else is there? There’s something else.”
Monroe tapped a finger on the guide in front of us. “It’s triple sec.”
“That’s it.” He nodded as if it were all clear now. The man really knew how to ham it up.
I put my hands on his shoulder. “I’ll meet you in front of our houses at four. I want to arrive before doors open so that I can help out with any final arrangements for the auction items. They need to look good so people will bid.”
Beck leaned over and kissed my cheek. “See, that wasn’t too hard.” He reached out to shake Monroe’s hand. “Good to see you, Monroe.”
Beck tossed a wink out and Monroe almost fell off her chair. If I hadn’t braced myself, I may have too.
“Damn that man is gorgeous. If you don’t marry him, I will.”