Chapter 1 #2
From fall to spring, they held nearly weekly events for charities, auctions, and any other reason to throw a snazzy party, all produced by Creative Style, the company who’d hired Savannah.
Being chosen by them as one of the makeup artists for their sometimes outlandishly themed events was a big deal.
Yes, I was very proud of my cousin.
Yes, I’d rather have shown my support in other ways.
Too late for that now.
The waitstaff were dressed in blues and greens with thematic makeup resembling sea creatures, which was actually cool.
Savannah pointed to the ones she’d done.
The guests—like Savannah, who got an invite to all these with her contract, and me as her plus-one—were a wide-ranging mix of costumes, but nothing quite like I was used to.
There were no slutty nurses or fairies. There were no jailhouse stripes or cop uniforms. No, this was posh and snobby.
Men in three-piece suits and eyeglasses stood next to women dressed as flappers or various Disney princesses—the mature kind, not the skanky kind.
There were old Hollywood bombshells and cowboys too.
From what Savannah had said, it would be a stuffy grind of an evening with old money looking to lord over the new money, and new money looking to show up the gentry.
She also said open bar and drunk people, which I could handle just fine.
Not that I was legally allowed to drink, but I wouldn’t let that small detail stop my fake ID from trying.
Said open bar was manned by two men. I chose to approach the younger one.
The one more likely not to give a shit. He had a black stud in one ear, a hint of tattoos peeking from his rolled-up sleeves, and checked his phone twice before we stood across from him.
The other guy was older and smiling like an idiot at a woman in a glittering silver dress that made her look like a disco ball.
“What can I get you ladies?” Mr. Tattoos asked.
I turned to Savannah with a quick brow raise, but she said, “Two virgin mojitos, please.”
That was not what my eyebrow meant, dear cousin.
The guy wasn’t fazed at all by the request. We took our drinks with thanks, then made our way toward the tables with food.
“You bitch,” I whispered through a smile.
“That’s not very ladylike, Ashley.”
“You could at least let me have alcohol for this, you know.”
“And have you get shit-faced and ruin the whole thing? Not on your life. I need you alert and—perky.”
I turned to her with a gasp. “Perky? Jesus, fuck, Savannah, I’m not here to catch a husband like you.”
She shushed me and glanced around. “Lower your too-deep-to-be-a-fuckin’-girl voice.”
We stared at each other, mouths gaping, then giggled.
“Neither of us are gonna make it in charm school,” I said.
Savannah chose a mini quiche off a tray, and I took this pinwheel thing with cream cheese and a cherry tomato on top. We cheersed our snacks, then faced the crowd.
“Okay, who are we lookin’ at to be the next Mr. Savannah Robins?”
Savannah narrowed her eyes and scanned the crowd. Not many were close to our own age, and most of the men seemed to be paired with the women on their arms, dripping in jewelry and fancy costumes.
“Slim pickin’s,” she said, then sipped her drink.
“Are you goin’ off looks or who looks like they have money?”
“Can’t I have both?” She feigned an innocence she sure as shit wasn’t. “What about that guy?” She pointed with a slight nod, but I couldn’t tell who she meant.
“Uh, sure?”
Savannah snorted. “Jeeeesus, Ash, I thought you were gay. You make a terrible wingman.”
“It’s Ashley, hon, and I thought you were gonna be my wingwoman. Isn’t that what we’re here for?”
Savannah snorted, then eyed me a second before turning slightly to ignore me altogether.
“Savannah?” I asked, but she turned even more. “Fuck me.”
I sat my drink down—so I wouldn’t throw it—and jerked her around to face me. She seemed legitimately torn between regretful and amused.
“I’m sorry, Ash.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“Well, um, you look real pretty.”
“I know, but what’re you sorry for?” I asked but was getting an inkling.
“Um, well, Morgan and I settled the bet the other day. He gave in and said you really could pass for a girl, but he didn’t have a hun’erd dollars, so he gave me the original fifty.”
“What?” I whisper hissed.
“Sorry. You didn’t … I’m sorry, Ash, but this is much more fun with you here.”
“Fun?” A man and woman near us turned at my outburst. “Fun?” I said again in an angry whisper. “I shaved my fuckin’ legs for this. I was all in, and now, fuckin’ now, you tell me I didn’t even have to be here?”
Savannah grimaced. “No. No, I wanted you to come.”
“You could’ve told me before I strangled my dick into these pantyhose.”
She dropped her gaze, wincing. “I’m so sorry.”
“Fuck this.” I marched off, or tried to, but she grabbed my arm.
“Don’t leave. Let’s make the most of it, okay?”
“Oh, I ain’t leavin’. You still owe me my fifty bucks, but I need a minute.”
I wouldn’t leave her here, as badly as I wanted to. I wasn’t an asshole like that, but she could keep her own lying ass company while I found a bathroom and seethed for a few minutes.
Fuck this dress, and fuck these torturehose.
A few heads turned at my steady stride that was in no way feminine, but I didn’t care now.
They could think whatever they wanted to.
It’d been a stupid idea I’d given my all to, and I still could, simply to prove how awesome Savannah was, but before I could do that, I needed to free my junk and take a piss.
Standing up!
The closest restrooms were in the main hall, so I headed in that direction but stopped short of entering.
Two white doors, similar in all but one very important detail, stood like game show choices. One had a gold plate that read women and the other men. Which did I choose?
Technically, there was no choice. I identified as a man, no matter what I was wrapped in, but if I went in and a guy was in there, I’d have some explaining to do. I could head into the women’s restroom and squat in a stall, but eww and no.
Well, fuck, what did I do?
Surely, a nice place like this had one of those family restrooms around here.
I spun on my heels, then bounced off a solid chest dressed in a black suit.
Tilting precariously on my stilettos, I flailed a moment, but a firm grip on my elbow steadied me.
My heart stuttered with my breath—which was already shaky at best—as I took exactly five seconds to scan him from the shiny oxfords to the long legs, trim hips, broad shoulders, and finally to the sharp angles of the man who now held me rooted in place with his stare much more so than his hand.
“You okay?” he asked in a deep voice that matched his dark hair and piercing eyes.
I nodded, because, yeah, words …
One corner of his lips twitched, and I snapped mine closed. Jesus, I’d seen handsome men before. I shook myself into common sense and gently extricated myself from his hold.
He indicated to his left with a jut of his smooth chin and a glance in the same direction. “The women’s room is the next one over.”
“Right,” I breathed.
Wait. He thought … I quirked a grateful smile as I nodded, then rushed off to find a single restroom. I didn’t know if he was left wondering why I didn’t enter the women’s but didn’t care either. That sexy man had been so close to me I could smell his aftershave, and he’d thought I was female.
Score.
On the other side of the hotel’s entrance was, in fact, a family restroom.
Once I’d finished my business, I ran as fast and as ladylike as my heels would allow to let Savannah know what had happened.
Bet or not, pissed at her and Morgan or not, she was truly an amazing artist and should feel good about that.
Plus, there was now a hot guy I could entertain my imagination with for the rest of the event.