Page 140 of Inflame

“Yes, you are,” Angie says with a smirk.

Claire’s face turns serious, but I know it is fake from the twinkle in her eyes. “We promise to be good girls tonight and follow all of the rules.”

I look up at the ceiling and let a groan escape. “I highly doubt that even you believe that.”

“It’s not our fault that trouble finds us,” Claire defends, scraping the plate to get every morsel off. “We are innocent.”

I shake my head at her, serving her another two pancakes. I’m so happy to see her back to eating. “What time should I be ready for girls’ night?”

“You aren’t invited,” Claire says boldly.

“We both know that’s not true.”

40

CLAIRE

Open Mic Night at The Shack has become a ritual for Angie and me since our college days. While the venue has been able to up its security and stick with the fire code laws, the place is still a dive in comparison to the places we frequented in Vegas.

No matter how much whining Angie and I did, there was no getting out of having Nic chaperone us. Trust me, we tried. I even lowered myself into offering some very specific sexual favors as part of the negotiation process. Apparently, the wrath of Graham or the mere chance of us getting hurt while we are here weighed more to him than me offering up my ass in a cat costume—which I am glad about because I was only bluffing. I’m not sure I will ever be ready for that level of trust with a man. The ass part, not the costume. I love costumes.

As expected, the line at The Shack is obnoxiously long. My pencil stick black heels scream at me in defiance, as I teeter on them. Waiting outside in the spring is much better than the winter. However, my outfit selection is the same, regardless of the season. I have on a skimpy black dress that has a strapless corset as the top. My hair is piled high on top of my head, and I have on dangling silver earrings that almost touch my shoulders. My makeup is shimmery and bold. If I was on the street, I would probably look like a hooker.

Working long hours and obsessing over money and where to live have taken a toll on my body. I’m exhausted and stressed over the uncertainties of my future. I haven’t talked to my mom since the day we discussed my tuition bills. Part of me hoped she would voluntarily call just to check in with me, but as usual, she is too wrapped up in her own life’s mess to have a care about mine. It should hurt me more than it does. Maybe I’m numb to it all. Or maybe I am just unlovable.

Angie and I are close enough to the front of the line where we can finally see the bouncer. Nic is hovering behind us like a father figure, fitting into the scene as you would expect an introvert to fit in at a party. Maybe with a few drinks in me, I can start calling him Big Daddy or something equally embarrassing. I’m sure he would hate it, and that makes me like the idea even more.

Ever since we had the whole I-am-dark-and-dangerous conversation in the spare bedroom, things have been weird between us. I know it has only been twelve hours, but I can tell awkward when I feel it. It’s as if Nic is having a battle inside and he is the only fighter. Yeah, he made me pancakes and that was sweet. But then when we walked into HH, he didn’t even address me when I was walking away. One minute he is making out with me and then the next he is telling me he’s not good for me. I thought women had this type of reputation for being wishy-washy, but Nic has everyone beat.

I look over at Angie checking her texts. “Has Graham contacted you? Everything okay with him? I wonder if—”

“Hmm?” she asks, looking at me with confusion.

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m just excited for a night to relax.”

Angie nods and then places her phone back into her handbag. “I’m sorry, Claire. My mind is elsewhere, and I need this night too. Between the wedding approaching and all of my ideas getting jumbled in my head over Plus None, I feel like some days I’m drowning in just my thoughts.”

I give her hand a squeeze. “I know we aren’t sharing a roof consistently, but I can always come over and hang out with you if you need girl time.”

Her smile is sad. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” I huff. “We were meant for each other, and you can’t ever deny that.”

Angie wraps me up in her arms. “I love you.”

“Feeling’s mutual. And there’s no return policy. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“For that, I am thankful.”

When we pay our entrance fee and get inside, the place is jam-packed, just like it always was. I haven’t been here in months. Despite the safety flaws supposedly fixed, I wouldn’t know at first glance by how everyone is standing shoulder to shoulder.

I try to push my way through the crowd but no one budges.

“This place sucks,” Nic growls behind me.

I completely forgot he was even here tagging along, so his voice startles me and makes me jump.

“Quit being so hoity-toity,” I say, scrunching up my nose. “You don’t come here for the ambience, you come here for the cheap drinks and greasy food.”

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