Page 68 of City of Wind and Lies

"Eeek! That sounds great!" Her phone lights up with a message and a smile spreads across her face."You guys okay if I go see Perry before their next set?"

"Go for it, girl!" Drea encourages.

"Okay," she breathes, pushing to her feet. "I'll see you guys in like fifteen."

"She's fun," Drea remarks as Cami heads for the stage. "I totally approve of her being your work bestie."

"Yeah, she's a sweetheart," I say, sliding off the barstool and hooking a thumb over my shoulder. "I'll be right back, I've got to pee."

"Oh, me too." Drea pops up and links her arm with mine.

Of course, there's a decent line snaking outside of the ladies' room, and none leading up to the men's restroom. I can feel the weight of Dallas' watchful eye as I lean a shoulder against the wall covered in a collage of band posters.

"Does it bother you that Dallas may be involved in… you know..."

"Not really," she shrugs. "I don't think life is as black and white as we try to make it."

I quirk an eyebrow at her.

"I just think that it's okay to be gray. Like, people are so quick to jump to a moral high ground because that's what other people are doing, but that doesn't always make it right. From what I know of Dallas, it seems like his intentions are good, and until he does something that makes me question that, I'll ride it out."

"Damn, when'd you get so wise?" I nudge her with my elbow as we take a few steps forward with the line moving.

"Psh," she shrugs. "I always have been."

Drea's words end up on a loop in my head as the line keeps creeping forward. I think I've always known that there was something dark and dangerous about Bowie; that's part of his appeal. But, from what I've seen and what I know of him, he's not some nefarious bastard. He doesn't do anything without purpose. Hell, the first time we met he was quote-on-quote violent, but he was defending me. Maybe the line between black and white has been blurred for a while now.

"Stop thinking so much about it and just enjoy the night," Drea orders as we're washing our hands.

I roll my eyes in the mirror at her. "Yes, mom." Checking my reflection in the mirror, I adjust the button on the jeans that’s digging into my lower abdomen, frowning. "You sure I don't look fat in this?"

Even though I've only gained a couple of pounds, all my clothes feel so much more restrictive than they used to. And I can already see that the little definition I did have in my stomach has faded. I guess this is just something else I have to get used to.

"Yes, babe. You look great, trust," she says, holding open the bathroom door for me.

"Okay," I sigh, talking over my shoulder as I step into the hall. "Mind if we stop at the bar, I could use another wat-" I cut off as I crash into someone. "Oops, I'm sorry," I start. "I didn't see… Trey?"

It hasn't even been that long since I last saw him, but the man looks rough. He's lost a bit more weight, his skin more ashen, and he seems to wear black eyes like his favorite accessories now.

"You look like hell." I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Apparently, the run-in shook loose my filter.

He rakes his stormy gray eyes down my body, giving me a once over, and sneers. "You don't look so good yourself. Never was a fan of fat chicks."

His words shouldn't hurt this much, but they freaking do.

I blink away the tears that are pricking behind my eyes and stare at him dumbfounded. My bottom lip quivers, and I just stand there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open.

"What? Now you gonna cry about it, too?" he scoffs. "Dramatic bitch."

Before I can even think about it, the palm of my hand connects with his cheek, delivering a loud slap.

His eyes narrow, the stupid smirk he’s wearing falls, and he takes a step closer with his hand raised, calling me a bitch again.

"Hey!" Drea shouts, pushing between us and stabbing a finger in his chest. "She's pregnant, asshole."

That seems to short circuit his anger, because his expression shifts to one of shock and he reaches around to grab me by the bicep. "Wren, is that true?"

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