Page 40 of King of Justice

I shifted my body toward her, subtly stretching my shoulders. “James Bond rarely sleeps.”

“Right!” She turned to Ray. “I would watch a lot of double-O-seven back then.”

He chuckled, and I grabbed a drink from a passing hostess, downing it as I watched him adjust his towel. Someone soon called him and finally, I was alone with Pink Pajama Girl. “So, you’re a fan.”

“Of James Bond? I was like… six.”

My eyes examined the little drawings on her outfit. “Are these handcrafted?”

“They are.” She gave me her hand. “Samantha Byrne.”

“Nathan Wright.” I kissed the soft skin of her knuckles. “Don’t you own—”

“ColorTex, yes.”

“Is this a part of your upcoming campaign?” I grabbed another drink.

Leaning forward, she gave me a suggestive look. “How many secrets can you keep in one night?”

“Try me.”

“I heard you’re not a costume enthusiast.”

Looking at her fondly, I knew that a part of me wished she were Sophie. “I’m not, and we can easily mitigate this. Chad has a nude section out by the heated pool.”

I must have forgotten how most women in this party would respond, because I was surprised when she said, “You had me at nude.”

Slightly stunned and extremely drunk by then, I followed her out as my eyes watched her every move. She was—in fact—undressing in the middle of Chad’s pool garden.

The heated pool exuded smoky vapor, adding a touch of mystique to the gorgeous woman’s nakedness before she jumped into the water. “C’mon, Bond! You can do it!”

I looked away, catching a glimpse of Chad in the distance as he watched us with an amused expression on his face. But then I knew that my curiosity had waned from the moment she’d revealed how complacent she was. How big was ColorTex? I had heard that they were facing a financial hiccup.

Leaving her behind, I walked back inside and noticed that everyone was gathering around. The DJ’s beats grew louder as I heard everyone shout, “Ten… nine… eight…”

Suddenly, I was outside drinking a cup of coffee. Alone. The bite of cold made me pull together the lapels of my coat, while the cup between my fingers grew colder by the minute. When I looked up in the distance and saw the valet, I waved, and they immediately brought my car out.

As I started to drive away, the thumping beats of the DJ in the background grew weaker and fainter until they disappeared completely. At that moment, I didn’t know why I’d exhaled. I wasn’t there against my will and everything around promised a good time. Even Samantha could have been fun if I had given her the chance.

If Abel were here, he would’ve labeled my behavior ‘blatant self-sabotage’, or something along these lines.

The traffic was insufferable, crawling at the speed of a tortoise, but I didn’t mind. I had nowhere to go and zero intention of heading home just yet. Instead, I immersed myself in the festive snippets surrounding me from every corner.

Confetti. Laughing girls. Drunk boys. Glitter. Balloons. More costumes.

When I finally took an exit, the road led me to Brooklyn, where I took turns and twists until I saw a car getting out of its parking spot. Expertly, I parked there and got out of the car, deciding to enjoy the crisp air for a while.

My steps carried me forth until I reached a sign that read, The Youth Center for the Arts. Although it was closed, I could hear loud live music coming from inside. As I made my way around the building, I discovered a small wooden door next to it—that was where the party raged. Pushing in the door, I stepped inside and had to be careful as the long stairway led downward. It was like a bunker or an old wine cellar with large stones covering the walls and yellow spot-lights reminiscent of those used in mines.

To my left, a dingy bar served basic beer, wine, and cheap vodka screwdrivers. To my left, a tiny stage was occupied by a band of seven jammed up next to each other with very little space to move. In the midst of the seventies rock song cover and the drunk, happy people singing along, my heart skipped a beat.

There was a story behind every single person here, but the only one I wanted to hear belonged to the one with the sun-kissed skin and the crazy waves that framed her kind face.

Behind the musical ensemble, I spotted her.

Sophie.

I couldn’t imagine why she would hold a tambourine in her hands, sing along or bob her head with her eyes closed, but she was an absolute vision.

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