Page 21 of Red Hot Harmony

I’d forgotten that on Saturday nights, most bars, restaurants, and clubs were popular, regardless of the quality of entertainment. In a big city, suburbs included, where people worked crazy hours five days a week, Saturdays were sacred. Saturdays were for fun.

And occasional minor criminal acts.

“It’s the weekend, sweets,” Harper stated the obvious, then pulled off his beanie and raked his hands through his hair to fluff it up.

“Can we bring Tallulah?” Ally questioned, somewhat worried.

“Absolutely. In the patio area,” Harper explained. “Why do you think I chose this place?”

“Sick.” I caught a flash of her grinning at him in the rear view mirror.

Something in me ached because all her smiles today had been meant for other people. This fight, however crucial she thought it was, had become ridiculous. Though I trusted Harper to keep my daughter in line and away from the tattoo shops, I didn’t like that she was getting used to spending her nights elsewhere.

“How long do you think it’ll take Lucas to realize it was all a ruse?” Ally asked him as I spied a parking spot at the very back of the lot and steered the vehicle in its direction.

“Well, he’s an idiot.” Harper snorted out a laugh. “So he probably won’t notice for another hour or two.”

We filed out of the car and headed to the entrance.

Inside was packed. Bodies cramming every corner, filling the bar, seated around the tall tables, stuffing the booths. The hostess took us to the back and onto the patio, where things weren’t as hectic, but it was equally loud. Music playing in the background blended with a basketball game on the large flat-screen TV.

We settled at the only available table and ordered drinks and appetizers. Tallulah had her own chair. She stayed in the bag and surveyed the place with her crafty light brown eyes as if it was all beneath her. Strangely, I could relate. The crowd was a bit young, which made me feel ancient.

“She looks uncomfortable,” I commented after the waiter delivered our cocktails and Ally’s soda.

“Of course she’ll be uncomfortable.” Harper huffed. “She’s been living with strangers for weeks.”

I reached for Tallulah’s head and brushed my palm down to her back. She wasn’t much bigger than Snowflake and had the softest fur. Black with a couple of white spots. She purred from my touch, her body vibrating with delight.

I smiled and sipped on my drink, happy that we’d been able to pull it off. Then the food came right before Dante arrived.

“You’re a hard party to find,” he said, approaching the table and dropping into an empty chair we’d saved for him.

“So?” Harper and I asked in unison, our food forgotten.

“Talk,” Ally urged, her voice full of expectation.

Dante rested both hands on the table and gave us all a once-over. His usually dark eyes shimmered with frenzied mischief. “Fool didn’t know what hit him,” he finally said with a wicked smile.

Harper laughed.

“Details please!” Ally requested.

As Dante started relaying his conversation with Lucas, his gaze swept over to me, then to my glass, and back to my daughter.

It wasn’t fair, I realized. However abstinent, he was still an addict. And this place was filled with rivers of alcohol. People were drunk and happy and carefree.

The emotion that stirred within me was undeniably shame. I didn’t recognize it right away, but it clawed and chewed on my hazy consciousness with vigor as Dante shared his opinion on how insanely trusting Lucas was.

Trusting and starstruck.

“So did he know who you were as soon as he opened the door?” Harper questioned when the story came to an end.

The waiter returned to take Dante’s order. A grilled salmon salad. Without dressing. And a bottle of water.

Not wanting to flaunt my cocktail in front of him while he ate, I’d tried to finish it in record time and my head was swimming.

It was a little later, after Dante’s food came, that a table at the other end of the patio was emptied, cleaned, and then surrounded by another group of guests.

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