Page 17 of Taming Scarlet

“Miss Chandelier texts me her plans. She and her friends are going to Click to start their evening.”

“On average, how many places does she go to on a night out?”

“Two or three, typically. Sometimes less if it is a new club. But two or three seems average.”

“Let me guess, we will be out until three or later.”

“That sounds about right,” he agreed, sounding apologetic. Then, at my silence, he added, “You’ll get used to it.”

I didn’t want to get used to it.

But it seemed as though there would be no choice in the matter as the town car pulled up to the curb in front of Click.

The line wrapped down around the corner of the block. Men in suits. Girls in barely-there dresses and no coats or sweaters to fight the early spring chill.

None of this looked appealing to me.

Eric was out of the car before I could think to move, rushing around the car to open the door for Scarlet as I finally climbed out myself.

I peeked in the backseat to find Scarlet staring forward, gaze seeming far away, face blank.

“Scarlet!” a voice called.

And just like that, I watched a transformation take over her.

A big, fake smile plastered on her face as she climbed out of the car. She flashed that smile to a trio of women waiting on the sidewalk.

There I found a tall, thin blonde in a tight red dress that let her hipbones stick out. Beside her was a shorter Black woman with long braids, and a bright orange dress that would have looked absurd on anyone else. And, finally, a pixie-cut brunette wearing wide leg trousers and an oversized blazer completed the trio. Like she was coming from work… and didn’t know what size she actually wore.

“There she is!” the blonde cheered, arms out toward Scarlet, then grabbed her wrists and forced air kisses to her cheeks.

“Fashionably late, as always,” the pixie-cut chick said, and I couldn’t help but think there was a hint of disdain in her voice.

Scarlet didn’t respond to that. Instead, she turned to the woman in orange, telling her how ‘on-trend’ her outfit was.

If I wasn’t mistaken, judging by Scarlet’s tone and the way the pixie-chick’s jaw hardened, this was somehow a dig to the trousers and blazer outfit.

“Are we ready?” she asked as the blonde linked her arm through Scarlet’s.

It seemed to me that Scarlet was the leader of this crew somehow, that she had more social weight than the others. She might have been why they were stuck out on the street in the cool early spring air, waiting for her.

As soon as she arrived, they walked right up to the bouncer, who immediately let them in.

“Ugh, he’s with me,” Scarlet grumbled when the bouncer tried to stop me from following.

“Right. Sorry,” the man said, looking worried that he might get in trouble for delaying me for even a second, for inconveniencing Scarlet Chandelier in any way.

Once I had some free time, likely after some much-needed sleep, I decided I needed to look into not only Scarlet’s social media, but that of all of her friends as well.

In the grand scheme of things, I guess it didn’t matter who they were and what their connection was to her. But I found myself too curious not to do a little research.

The inside of the club was dark and loud, the crowd a major crush that the girls fought their way through to get to a table in the raised VIP section.

“So, who’s the new guy? He’s cute!” the blonde whisper-yelled to Scarlet.

“Bodyguard,” Scarlet said, accepting a round of shots from a scantily-clad server.

“Does he have a name?” the blonde pressed.

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