Page 51 of Enemies

Like how to chew.

The cherry gets stuck in my throat, and a second later, he’s hitting me on the back. I spit the thing out on the woman crossing the floor to interrupt us. She squeals, flicking the fruit off her dress.

The other occupants of the VIP room fall silent as they stare at us.

Whoops.

Harrison turns to block me from the rest of the room as if I need protection.

Maybe I do.

“Fuck, you’re savage.” But his mouth twitches.

That’s what I get for trying to out-cool this man.

“I can raid my drawer when I get back tonight if you still want a pair of my panties,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“No.”

“That’s what I fig?—”

“They don’t taste like you. I want the ones you’re wearing. The ones you wore when you lifted those middle fingers at my booth.”

Desire slams into me, leaving behind a throb of longing that echoes from the tips of my breasts to between my thighs.

Harrison’s jaw flexes as if he knows exactly how his words affect me.

“You can flirt with me, Raegan,” he drawls. “I’ll even enjoy it. But if you want me to treat you like my equal, you’d better be ready for all that comes with it.”

A throat clearing has Harrison wrenching back to look over his shoulder at Leni. “Boss. We need to talk.”

He shifts out of his stool, but I swear it’s reluctantly. Before he walks away, he says to me, “We’re going out tomorrow night.”

“Calling in another favor?”

“No. A do-over of the first one. And trust me, you’ll want to be there.”

13

RAE

It started with a picture.

One I posted of the beach when I was out walking Barney one morning.

Since then, I’ve posted on social nearly every day.

Sometimes with Barney, sometimes the scenery. One day I snapped a photo of Toro, his weathered profile smiling, when he came to work on the house, and we ended up talking for an hour about his daughter and the argument they had about her leaving Spain for a job in Australia with a boy she was dating at the time.

In between, I’ve reposted pictures from fans. For the first time, my following is growing, and it’s people saying they love my shows or my music or want to check out Debajo.

It doesn’t hurt that I’ve been scanning the feeds of some hashtags of local partiers to see what’s popular and, more importantly, what people are into but aren’t getting in the bright lights and theatrics of the biggest clubs.

It’s not Harrison’s pressure. It’s that I want to make Debajo great. It’s less about me, or even getting the money for Callie, and more about believing in a place and the people in it.

This morning, when I check my DMs, the name on top grabs my eye.

Beck, one of my classmates from arts school, who is in LA.

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