Page 83 of Betrayed

“Ya think?” they all replied in unison.

As the laughter started, it built and built until the entire group was howling, tears rolling down their cheeks. The thunder and crash of a drum intro announcing the return of the band snapped them out of it.

Meg called out, “This calls for a celebration.” She stood to flag down their waitress. “We need more margaritas.”

“And lemon drops,” Lexie chimed in, holding up her empty martini glass.

“And since Arturo won’t be back anytime soon and has put a kibosh on dancing, I might as well have another arctic circle and get hammered.” Mari smiled. “And—”

Angie cut her off. “We know. Hold the ginger ale.”

“Actually,” she corrected with a toss of her head, “I was going to say make it a double because I need it to ease the ache. Cap interrupted our scene, and I’m horny as hell.”

Their titters of laughter continued until Elena squatted down on the edge of the stage and said to the group over the band, “I tried to warn you, next time, listen.”

They turned to their friend and began giving her grief.

“French Kissin’ in the USA”?” Regan scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That was a little lame, you must admit.”

“Usually she’s spot on,” Lexie said in Elena’s defense.

“Yeah, but tonight”—Megan wrinkled her nose—“not so much.”

“Hey!” Elena protested. “How many songs do you know with lyrics that scream, ‘look out, there’s an angry Frenchman heading your way?’”

“It got the point across,” Angie conceded with a grin.

“Maybe I should have gone with my next choice,” Elena said, second-guessing herself for once.

“What was that?” Mara asked.

“‘Run for Your Life, Little Girl’ by the Beatles.”

“Now that would have been perfect!” Regan exclaimed.

Another roar of feminine laughter erupted from the table down front.

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