Page 11 of Under the Lies

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reassure her, motioning for her to come in. She does and I shut the door. “You just scared me. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Brin’s smile is back to full wattage. “Keeping a secret lover from me?” She makes a show of looking around the apartment.

I snort, leaning against the door. “Yeah if I had a guy sharing my bed, he wouldn’t be a secret.” I’d be shouting it from my balcony. It’s been that long.

“Who said anything about a bed?” Brin wiggles her eyebrows.

“Ooo, you bad!” I laugh, pushing off the door to walk into the living room. I smack my friend’s butt as I pass.

I’m about to collapse onto the couch when Brin says, “Don’t get comfortable, Sayer. We have plans.”

“We do?” I don’t remember that. “Here I thought you wanted to get drunk on fine wine and watch old 90s movies.” It’s what we did my first night back in town.

“We do.” She digs in her purse and pulls out two black envelopes with gold lettering. Brin fans her face with them.

“What is that?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Her coy answer stirs up unease. I don’t like surprises. I like straight forward. “Brin…” My warning trails off, taking in her attire as she slips off her coat.

She’s definitely not dressed like we’re going out for a night in the clubs. Brin’s in a gown. A long and elegant pale pink dress that hugs the curves around her hips, the skirt touching the floor. Her midnight hair is twisted up in an elegant updo while the only makeup she has on is a simple winged liner on the lids of her dark brown eyes.

Simple elegance and way too much effort for what I feel like putting in right now.

Seeing the answer on my face Brin pouts. “You’d make me go alone?”

“I don’t even know where you’re going!”

She hesitates, knowing she’s going to have to really sell it for me to be enticed enough to put a bra back on. “It’s super exclusive” –aka snobby—seeing that she’s already losing me, Brin backtracks— “but it’s not a party or a charity auction or any of the boring things you hate. It’s something else entirely. Something fun.”

“Like what?” My interest is mildly piqued just from hearing it’s none of the things I’ve turned down this week. “What is it?”

Brin bites her lip, thinking.

“Brin, if you don’t tell me I’m not going.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “It’s a gambling hall.”

That has me sitting forward. “A gambling hall?”

Seeing she has me hooked, she nods. “Yeah, except there’re no slots, just tables. I know how much you love blackjack.”

I do love blackjack. In college I was the blackjack (and strip poker) queen.

“Okay,” I sigh, more from the effort of getting off the comfy couch than anything else. “I’ll go.”

“Really? Omg yay!” She squeals, jumping as high as the dress will let her. Once she’s done with her mini celebration, she clears her throat. “Let’s get you changed. There’s a dress code after all.”

Of course there is. It wouldn’t be in Haven Harbor if you weren’t required to dress to the nines. But even that can’t suffocate the small feeling of exhilaration as I slide into one of the many gowns I still have, thankful the one Brin’s helping me zip up still fits, if not a little tight.

As Brin tames my dirty blonde hair into something passable and not a nest for woodland creatures, I stare at my reflection in a total not-a-narcissist kind of way.

I look exhausted. My gray eyes empty.

At least my dress looks pretty. Midnight blue with flecks of silver woven into the fabric, I feel like the endless night sky.

Done with my hair, Brin shoves a pair of shoes on my feet before yanking me out of the room and out of my apartment. “C’mon, we’re going to be late!”

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