Page 8 of Joker in the Pack

“Nonsense. You can and you are.”

The look of determination in her eyes said I wasn’t going to win this one.

“Fine. Just don’t make me pause on any street corners, because I’ll probably get arrested.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop being so melodramatic.”

“You’re not the one who’s going to be flashing her underwear if there’s even the slightest breeze. Where are we going, anyway?”

“Oh, just a club.”

“A club? I thought we said dinner. I’m not sure I’m up to visiting somewhere rowdy.”

“Well, it’s more of a cabaret. And there’s a buffet.”

“Why don’t we get a takeaway instead?”

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Adventure? Adventure? DeBrett’s girls didn’t need a sense of adventure. I had a sense of class, and I had a sense of decorum. That was all I needed.

Right?

Two hours later, I blinked under overly bright lights as I slid around on a black plastic chair. It had got a little slippery when I missed the stripper’s body with the baby oil and squirted it all over myself instead. No way would this dress be going on eBay. Once I’d peeled it off, it’d be heading straight for the bin.

With a dozen disturbingly named cocktails in me, I chanted along with the rest of the hen-night crowd in the audience.

“Strip! Strip! Strip!”

The muscle-bound hunk gyrating in front of me duly obliged and whipped off his leopard-print thong. He flashed the crowd then turned back to me, his sausage and meatballs swinging hypnotically just inches from my face. I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

This was great! Why hadn’t I thought of coming to a cabaret before?

The music was funky. The flashy lights were so pretty. And the men were really, really shiny. This was my new favourite thing!

As the music wound down, my new friend, Taurus, offered me his arm to help me back to my best friend in the whole wide world. I could see her waving at me from the front row. Both of her.

I waved back.

“Hiiiiiii, uh…”

What was her name again?

M-something? Mary? I was just puzzling over that when my feet shot out from under me. The crowd gasped as I grabbed at Taurus, but he was covered in so much oil he slid right out of my grasp.

What’s-her-name disappeared from view in slow motion, replaced by hot-pink spotlights and a wide-eyed hunk staring down at me. The last things I saw before it all went black were his muscled thighs overhead, meat and two veg looking so deliciously edible between them.

Oops.

CHAPTER 4

THE SOUND OF beeping woke me up. Strange. Usually, I set my phone to play Pharrell’s “Happy” at seven every morning in a vain attempt to convince myself that I actually was.

It failed every time.

I reached out to shut off the noise, but something tugged at the back of my hand. Ouch! That stung.

“Easy, easy.”

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