Page 62 of Inflame

Lipstick? I move into the room to get a closer look. “Pepper spray?”

“The extra fire kind. It’ll be like getting a habanero juice smoothie to the eyes. It’s supposed to shoot farther and be more potent,” she explains, pride bursting from her.

“Surprised those passed through airport security,” I mutter, taking a tube from her hand to examine the contents.

“I did my research and made sure they were in the checked luggage and met the liquid ounce requirement.”

“But you missed that these will not pass the security protocols for the Starlight Club.”

Her eyes dart to mine. “Really? They won’t even let me bring these in my bag?”

I shake my head. “You’ll most likely get them confiscated at the door when you pass through the metal detectors and the x-ray machine. They upped the security there recently and outlawed all personal protection devices.” I know this because as soon as I found out that they were going to see a stripper show, I did my own research. The owner seems legit enough. It wasn’t hard to infiltrate the club’s security features to see what level of protection they use to keep their customers and employees safe. As far as nightclubs go, everything checked out, and there are no documented incidents reported there in the past couple of years.

“Welp, then I guess I will just have to use my own self-defense skills I’ve been working on during some of my gym sessions.”

I close my eyes as I take in the words she is feeding me. “If you feel unsafe at any time, you call me. Okay? Or go straight to the bouncer. No trying to be a hero.”

“Nic,” Angie interjects, putting her hand on my elbow. “We’ll be fine. It is entirely possible for us to have a drama-free night. We aren’t in Portland. I have not been targeted since graduating from college. All of that craziness is behind us.”

I smile at her and nod. She’s right. Graham is just making me extra paranoid. Plus, I do trust that Angie and Claire have each other’s backs. They are very loyal to each other and that is admirable.

When I was trying to make a life for myself on the East Coast, I made friends and had fun going out. However, many of my friendships were tied to Tara’s friendships. So, when Tara and I split, so did my interest in maintaining our mutual connections with people. I wanted a clean break. Asher is one of the few friends I have that I still associate with from college. However, I never was a person who needed a lot of people to surround me. Just a handful is enough.

“We’ll be ready to leave for dinner in twenty minutes. If you want someone other than Butch with the fake ID, smoker’s breath, and criminal record to drive us around, you better step to it,” Claire says, turning and walking back into her room. Her hand waves up into the air in a reverse goodbye gesture.

I can’t hide my grin over her snark. She is something else. If she were mine, I would smack her ass just for the way she talks to me. Pretty sure we would both enjoy it.

It is her I-don’t-give-a-shit-what-you-think attitude that she pairs with her I-just-want-to-make-those-I-care-about-happy mission that I find the most intriguing. It is fucking with my head how she can be so sweet and sassy all at once. Only Claire can pull off both of those things and make it look sexy.

“Don’t fuck with my best friend’s emotions.”

Angie’s blunt words sober me up from my daze. My eyes study hers for any ounce of leeway. None. She gives me none. Worst part is, she is one hundred percent correct. I need to stay away from Claire. Muddying the waters with her will make the wedding awkward and all future family occasions even worse. Angie is not one to mess with either. And pissing off my brother is the last thing I need.

“Message received.”

18

CLAIRE

I’m glad we just ate a ridiculously delicious dinner prior to arriving at the Starlight Club, because the only items on the menu here are eye candy and liquor.

Even the bouncer is dressed to impress with just a bowtie and booty shorts that look to be made for the pool scene.

“So, part of your surprise is starting now,” I say, passing the man at the back door to the club two backstage passes.

“What are those?” Angie asks, pronouncing each syllable slowly and eyeing me with apprehension.

“I thought it would be fun to get to see the guys get warmed up before the performance, so I paid a little extra.” It was actually a lot extra. But I think it will be worth it. “We could only attend tonight anyway because of a lottery system. So, it is basically fate that we are here.”

“Wow. This is going to be so much fun,” Angie cheers.

I knew she would approve. We have fun doing anything—which I appreciate—but I wanted to do something extra tonight for her celebration. We get a wristband and are granted access to a workout room full of nearly naked, muscles for miles, men. If there is a shortage of baby oil in this country, I know who is hoarding it. Holy fuck.

“Damn,” Angie exhales, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. “I approve of this extra entree. Yum.”

My eyes take in the scene of at least forty men doing pull-ups, pushups, stretches, and practicing dance moves on a wall to wall exercise mat. Every different type of fantasy should be represented in this room by the eclectic variety of man meat. Long hair, short hair, curly hair. Dark and light. Face scruff or clean-shaven. Tall, short, thin, beastly. Tats and piercings, oh my.

“I’m going to pee my pants if that guy across the room looks over at me one more time,” I mumble, causing Angie to look at me and giggle. “It’s like he is stalking me with his eyes. Not complaining, but he is making me wish I wore better panties. Something with better absorbency.”

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