Page 152 of The Wild Charge

“Why not? She’s a bitch,” Siobhan said.

“Shh!” Emily hissed at her. “You can’tsay that.”

“Ladies,” Raven said, projecting calm and comfort as best she could. “It’s alright. Nikolaisa bitch.”

Emily gasped. Siobhan went goggle-eyed.

“This industry is full of them, unfortunately,” she continued. “But if you’re talented, and hard-working, there’s work waiting for you with me. I’ve always got room for new people, so if you don’t want to stay with Nikola, you don’t have to.”

The girls shared stunned glances. It doubtless sounded like a wild, unimaginable possibility to them, but Raven was counting on the weight of her reputation.

“Be honest with me, now,” Raven said, worried she was pushing her luck. “Some not-so-nice things go on at Howard Models, don’t they?”

They looked shifty, hesitant.

“For instance, I know that Jack Waverly is her business partner.”

At mention of his name, all the color drained out of Siobhan’s face. It was as damning as any verbal admission.

“Darling,” Ian said, slipping back into his true persona, leaning forward, expression inviting. “We can help, if you’ll tell us what you know.”

“Siobhan,” Emily said quietly, and Raven didn’t know if it was a plea for quiet, or for a confession.

Siobhan chewed at her lip a long moment, and then her eyes filled with fresh tears. She nodded, voice thick when she spoke. “What do you want to know?”

~*~

Tenny could suck it, because Evan was actually really fucking good at this whole playing pretend thing. After a couple hours, and several rounds of drinks, Jensen had warmed considerably. In fact, Evan thought he – or “Kyle,” rather – might be the guy’s new best friend.

“Aw, man.” Jensen hooked an arm around his neck and leaned most of his weight against his side. “This ain’t shit.” He was slurring a little, glassy-eyed and red-faced, as he pointed at the stage with his glass, slopping vodka over the rim. “Look at her, she’s not even hot!” He was shouting, and judging by the sudden stiffness of the girl performing, she’d heard him.

“Dude, I know!” Evan shouted back, feigning intoxication, and saying a silent apology to the poor girl. She was quite pretty, actually, but he supposed when your dad was a millionaire several times over, you could afford all number of girls.

“You know what we should do?” Jensen asked. He turned his head so his nose bumped Evan’s cheek, his reeking breath hot on his neck. Gross. “We should go to the office.”

A ripple of “ooh”s went up from the entourage. Shouts of “fuck yeah” and “dude, let’s go!” Several of them stood, weaving on their feet.

“What’s the office?” Evan asked, though his pulse kicked up a notch. The “office,” whatever it was, hadn’t ever been mentioned on Instagram. Could it really be this easy? Getting invited into the secret circle?

“Shit, you gotta go,” one of the other guys, Rory, said.

When Evan turned his head, Jensen grinned at him, wide and smug, a spark flaring in his unfocused eyes. “Man. You’re gonnaloveit.”

Leaving was a bit of a clusterfuck, all of them too drunk to make a coordinated effort of standing, pulling on jackets, searching for wallets that had slipped down into the couch cushions. A waitress came around to ask if they wanted anything else, and Jensen said, “Get outta my face, bitch.” She retreated without fanfare, as if this was a normal occurrence. Jensen called his car service, and Evan pretended to have as much trouble walking as the rest of them as they all made a pit stop at the bathroom and then staggered out onto the sidewalk.

A series of black Range Rovers waited on the curb, and the drivers hopped out to open doors for them. Jensen hooked his arm around Evan’s neck again, and nearly sent them tumbling into the gutter. “New guy rides with me,” he declared. “I gotta get him up to speed.”

Some of the others laughed, which Evan didn’t like. He liked climbing into the back of the lead Rover even less, especially when Jensen and Brody piled in behind him and slammed the door.

It was one thing to sit with them in a public place, where he could get up and walk out at any point. But here in the car – doors locking as the driver pulled away from the curb – he was trapped, and on his way God knew where.

How had Tenny done this sort of thing for so long without shitting his pants all the time?

He cleared his throat and pushed cheerful drunkenness into his voice. “This office…it’s not, like, anofficeoffice, is it? ‘Cause that sounds kinda lame.”

“Psssh,” Brody laughed, and proceeded to light a joint, the stink of it thick in the enclosed space.

Jensen still looked entirely too smug, intoxicated or not. “Lame. Ha! You ain’t ready. Trust me, man,you ain’t ready.” He smacked at Brody’s arm. “Gimme a hit.”

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