Page 32 of Shaken Knot Stirred

He set the pretty Cosmopolitan in front of me. It practically glowed in the bar lighting. There was a little triangle of lime rather than a twist. I resisted the urge to flick it off the edge of the glass. I drummed my fingers on the bar and chewed on my lip.

Fuck it.

I nudged my way behind the bar and chugged the Cosmo to the bartender’s protests.

Sliding a fresh bottle of vanilla vodka off the shelf, I cracked to top before placing it on the center of the round server tray. I nestled in raspberry liquor and an almost full bottle of Grenadine. I elbowed the bartender out of the way for clean martini glasses, a lime and a reamer and shaker.

“Do you have fresh raspberries?”

“Only frozen.” The other bartender said, pulling a bag from the freezer.

“These bitches aren’t supposed to bar tend,” said the beta. His coworker gave a pointed look at Lana and then back at me. Lana wasn’t the threat, Beg was, but the message got through, regardless.

I filled an Old Fashioned glass with the frozen fruit and draped a crisp white linen napkin over the crook of my arm.

Cora batted her eyelashes at me in confusion as I sat down at the table.

“This is Moxie. She’s new,” Lana said, touching the back of my wrist for emphasis.

“Oh,” she said brightly. “This must be a mistake, then. I usually get a Cosmo.”

“That’s a wonderful drink choice, but that’s not what you really need.” I placed the martini glasses in the center of the table and arranged my items. “You need something that tastes like sunshine and summer.” I poured the liqueur into the shaker. “Like wearing pigtails and eating ice pops.”

As I built the drink, I let her aura show me what to say next. I conjured up an image of the perfect summer day, pulling on all her nostalgic desires. I had no idea if that was what her childhood was like or if that was a dream she wanted to be real. She watched me with fascination. Lana was concerned at first. It was always dicey to deviate from known wants. That was the thing with people. They often lied about what they wanted. Evento themselves. Most often to themselves. But I could always see what they needed.

On purpose, I dribbled a bit of Grenadine over the edge of the glass.

“Oh no!” I said, like it was a travesty. I collected the drop of ruby-red liquid on my fingertip and brought it to my lips, then paused. Cora was riveted. Perfect. I held my finger out to her and raised an eyebrow. I touched my fingertip to her lower lip, withdrawing my finger before she could touch it with her tongue. Alphas weren’t the only ones who enjoyed the chase.

I pushed the glass in front of her and invited her to drink with an open palm, as if I had given her a prized offering.

She put the glass to her lips, and her aura shivered as the alcohol hit her tongue.

“I’ll be damned. That does taste like summer.”

Lana gave me a look while Cora was distracted by the drink. She had been unsure about what I was doing. The whole point of the night was to get Cora the right amount of drunk to add a zero to the tip, and now her eyes sparkled like a whole new world of possibility had just opened for her.

We chatted inanely about television and fashion for a while. I scanned the room as I walked back to the bar for more ice. Auras were shifting as drugs and alcohol took effect. Quite a few of the hosts were partaking too. But not Lana. Her aura was like a cashier clocking in for an 8-hour retail shift. All business. Lana was more calculating than I would have thought.

“You must come to the Corinthia Tea Party,” Cora said, sliding closer to me as I sat back down.

“Hmm, what’s that?” I leaned into her as I started the next drink.

Cora gasped like she was horrified that I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Oh, it is the most charming of all the Dinghy Races events. They turn Corinthia Boulevard into an enchanted forest.”

I had almost forgotten about that summer tradition. Ceto Bay would be humming with boat races of every variety, from rowboats to multi-million dollar racing catamarans. Anyone could enter the races and prizes ranged from cash to condos and membership in elite packs.

“I’m too fair to sit out in the sun for the boat races, and Ria just refuses to rent a yacht this year. You will be attending the Gala at least, won’t you?”

The Gala was a massive event held in the Ceto Bay convention center. It was like a fancy street festival. All the best restaurants had pop-ups with tasting menus. There would be dancing and drinks sponsored by every flavor of organization in the city. Packs would set up their own mini lounges to entertain new and prospective members. It often turned into a one-upmanship contest where the elite packs of the city tried to outdo one another. Nico and I would go every year as kids. The pick-pocketing was fantastic.

I raised a shoulder in a half-shrug and brushed the foreign long hair out of the way. I had chosen one of my better quality long chocolate brown wigs for the evening, hoping to look more elegant. I was absolutely not to going to advertise my auracle status with my white hair in a place like Vig.

“You must. If you can’t secure a ticket, I’ll give you one of ours. We’ll of course have a lounge set up, even though Ria refuses to expand the pack. I’ve never seen you or Beg there.” Cora hooked her arm through Lana’s, pulling her closer.

“The Pax hosts its own Dinghy Race events,” Lana said, not really answering the question.

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