Page 121 of The Unraveling

“Come on, it’s Saturday night. Live a little since you have all day tomorrow off.”

“Fine, okay, sure, yes. Just for a bit.”

She smiles devilishly and says, “Great. I’ll meet you at nine. I’ll text you the address.”

Her smile turns to a grin and I nod.

Fuck.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Ithought you would have been fired,” says Arabella, as she hands me a glass of champagne.

We’re in the back of a black car, and she’s dressed like a witch with a heroin addiction. A tiny little black dress and fishnet stockings, pointy, sky-high boots.

I take the flute from her and she clinks her glass with mine. “To your success.”

“That’s…I mean. Okay. To yours, too.”

I take a big swig of the champagne and she smiles after drinking her own.

“But anyway, I thought you would have been fired. How exactly did you get away with that?”

I suddenly become paranoid. Like, is she wearing a wire? Of course I know she isn’t, but she’s really zoning in on me.

“It was just a misunderstanding. The paparazzi got into that club somehow and just—”

“Please, honey, don’t try to lie to me,” she says. “I know what you look like when you just got fucked. Remember?”

She pinches my nipple and I shy away from her. I finish my champagne in one gulp and then say, “You’re the worst.”

“You love me,” she says, putting her head on my shoulder and laughing.

Why the fuck am I here? I shouldn’t have come. I’m only here because I don’t like to make Arabella mad.

Why is my whole life about keeping everyone happy all of a sudden? Why is it so tense? So stressful?

It’s not what it’s supposed to feel like.

The champagne went right to my head, so I put down my glass and say, “How close are we?”

“Almost there,” she says, looking at her phone.

Five minutes later, we pull up outside a club. It’s exactly the kind of place I like when I’m with people I trust. When I feel like really losing myself. It’s loud, it’s dark, it’s moody, there’s loud, sexy music playing.

But I don’t want to be here with Arabella.

One drink and then I’m going. That’s it.

Then I realize there’s a line around the block.

“Oh my god, no,” I say, “I hate a line. I’m not doing that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, lover, you’re with me.”

She loops an arm through mine and leads me to the bouncer. He smiles at her and lets us right in, which pisses off the entire line.

“Sorry, everyone!” she calls out as we walk inside, which really just adds insult to injury, I’m sure.

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