Page 146 of Awakened by Sin

“You okay?”

No.“Yes.”

“Come to me.”

“I will. I’ll get ready now.”

“See you soon.”

She hung up and flipped on the bedroom light. A lamp with a gold base lay shattered beside the bed. She ignored it and went into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and sprayed a cooling mist over her swollen eyes and fanned her face. Her desolate reflection was familiar. Too familiar. She hated herself. The empty wineglass was filled with ice and Crown Royal this time. She sat at her vanity and placed the chilled glass against her eye.

No! Don’t say it.

She flinched as the memory of her heartbroken voice echoed in her ears. She shot to her feet and tore through the bedroom until she found her earphones. Noise cancelling earphones blocked out everything but the sound of her racing heartbeat. She blasted the most “don’t give a fuck” music she had. Cardi B was up first. She clung to the dark beat and vibe with the desperation of a drowning woman. She said the lyrics with an intensity Cardi B would have been proud of. She ignored the agony and forced herself to move to encapsulate the mood.

She planted her hands on the vanity and examined the woman in the mirror. The chilled whiskey helped with the swelling and redness. Her mouth was set, eyes glistening, but she refused to let another tear fall. She suffered every day for almost three years. It had to stop. She tipped her head up when she felt tears crawling up her throat.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” she chanted but couldn’t hear herself over the music.

She blew out a breath and let Eminem’s attitude seep into her. When she had herself under control, she sat on the vanity bench made up of two snarling lions she had rescued from storage. Through the power of makeup, she could become whoever she wanted. She painted herself into a character who showed no sign that she possessed a hemorrhaging heart with a busted a stitch that was bleeding out with every beat. With every layer of makeup, she became less herself and more the character she wanted to emulate.

Forty minutes later, the sultry badass bitch in the mirror bore no resemblance to the out of control one who wanted to curl up in a ball and die. She wore a crimson velvet sleeveless dress with a high neck. It was skintight, rode high on her upper thighs, and showed off her slight curves. She was decked out in diamonds from her glittering stilettos to the bracelet and rings decorating every finger. It was extra as fuck, but that was who she was. Her smoky wing tipped eye and matte, wine-colored lip was perfection. She was so deep in character that she didn’t feel anything. It was a relief, but she knew the reprieve wouldn’t last forever. Hopefully, Marcus worked his magic before the stroke of midnight and she became herself again and shattered into a million pieces. A black velvet clutch completed the look. She filled it with necessities—cell phone, lipstick, gun.

She walked out the front door and turned to lock it. It took less than thirty seconds for Frederick and Mickey to breathe down her neck.

“What’s going on?” Frederick asked.

“You’re taking me to The Strip,” she said as she turned to face them.

Mickey and Frederick surveyed her in silence before they exchanged a look.

“I don’t think that’s smart,” Frederick said.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she said and started toward the SUV.

“I’m calling it in,” Mickey said.

She ground her teeth as she slid into the back of the SUV. “I’m meeting Marcus.”

“Fletcher? Oh, that changes things,” Mickey said as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Although I still don’t think The Strip is the best place for you. Too much exposure.”

“Angel and Gavin haven’t killed all the Black Vipers yet? It’s been almost two weeks.”

“They’ve killed a bunch, but the Black Vipers contacts have come to play as well.”

If she wasn’t buzzed from whiskey and high on rap, she might have worried about that. Instead, she clung to the beat playing in her head that kept her focused on her role. She balanced on a knife’s edge. One push and she would topple into the endless depths of self-loathing, guilt, and depression. She hoped Marcus was able to fuck her out of the past and into the present. It was the only course of action she could think of. If that didn’t work, she had no idea what she would do.

It took too long to reach The Strip, and the lights and manic energy didn’t penetrate her armor. She texted Marcus as they waited in Friday night traffic. He was at Lux, which was hosting a wealthy businessman’s thirtieth birthday. Apparently, the businessman had the dough to fly in the hottest celebrities to help him celebrate. Due to the high-profile event, the wait to reach the valet station was taking forever.

Her patience snapped, and she stepped out of the car. Mickey immediately followed and grasped her arm as she slipped through the crowd. This time, the press of bodies didn’t make her feel better. The excited tourists flocking the sidewalks irritated her. She was tempted to shove and elbow her way through. As if he sensed her volatile mood, Mickey stepped in front of her and cleared a path while she pressed against his back. It was marginally better once they entered the casino. She took the lead while Mickey scanned his surroundings. He didn’t look so young and bright-eyed now. He was tense and alert. She welcomed an attack right now. She was armed and good to go.

The crowd in front of Lux was ridiculous. She hadn’t seen such a crush in a while. Once again, Mickey cleared a path. When they reached the front, she stepped up to security. The club manager spotted her and waved her forward.

“Mrs. Pyre, Mr. Fletcher told me you would be attending,” he said and glanced at Mickey.

His address caused a fracture in her shield. Her body locked, and she sank deeper into character and turned up the rap in her head. “This is my security guard, and I have another, Frederick. He’s ripped and looks like he works for FBI,” she shouted over the sound of the crowd.

The manager nodded and waved her through. “I’ll make sure he gets in.”

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