Page 68 of The Singles Club
“Press it, or you’ll make me angry, young man. And you don’t want to see me angry.”
“Maybe we can wait to play this game after dessert?” I begged.
She slammed her hand on the table. “There will be no dessert unless you press the button.”
People at the surrounding tables glanced our way.
This was not happening.
“Fine.” I swallowed and inched my finger toward whatever this was. Sweat prickled the back of my neck and under my arms. The moment I pressed, Annette let out a tiny “Ohhh.”
No. Please tell me this wasn’t remotely connected to her…
Annette stood, placed her hands on the table, and leaned in toward me. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room, and I give you permission to press it aslongandhardas you want.”
Her face glowed brighter, and my eyes widened as flames from the candle started traveling up from the ends of her hair. I grabbed the water and threw it at her hair in alarm, but it didn’t put it out. She screamed when she realized what was happening and ripped at the top of her head. In seconds her entire side ponytail was a flaming fur ball sitting on the table. Shouts and screams surrounded us, and someone ran toward us with a fire extinguisher and sprayed. Foam was everywhere—on both me and Annette, who now had mascara streaming down her face as she held her real hair, which was a lot thinner now that her wig or whatever it was sat on the table buried under white powder.
Without a word, she picked up her purse and then glared up at me. “Don’t ever contact me again.”
Relief was the first feeling I felt, and embarrassment was the next. I looked around the room of shocked patrons staring in my direction. In the middle of the silence, I heard heels clicking across the floor. I looked over to find Vivian coming toward me. A soft smile on her lips. She took my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
On my way out, I noticed Isabella by the bar area. She gave a slight wave and a look that had pity written all over it.
“Wait, the tab,” I said, half in a daze.
“It’s already taken care of.” Vivian wrapped her arm around mine, and I let out a deep breath. Once we got outside, she looked up at me. “You should call Max.”
“Right.” I pulled out my phone and told him to come pick us up. Once he got out of the car, he stopped in his tracks and looked down at my suit. “What happened?”
“Long story,” I said before opening the door for Vivian. She slid inside, and I walked to the other, which Max already held open.
Vivian placed her hand on top of mine. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is… at least partly my fault.”
“How do you mean?”
She bit on her thumbnail. “I have some good news and bad news.”
“I could use good right now.”
“The good news is that those last two disastrous dates had nothing to do with you.” She clasped her fingers together in her lap. “The bad news is that there is a reason those women were so forward with you sexually.” She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. “Your profile picture. What do you see on the dining room table?”
I enlarged the photo and saw Brock’s DVD.
Fuck.
I ran a hand across my face. “At least my profile is private.”
“That’s the other thing… it’s not.”
My stomach did a freefall, and nausea swept over me. “What?”
“You have to delete it. Do you know your password?”
My hands shook as I tried to punch in the URL on my browser but kept making typos. Vivian slipped the phone from my hands. “I can do it for you. Just let me know your password.”
