Page 136 of Positively Pricked
This was good for the lovebirds, but bad for me, because the longer I stood here, the more conspicuous I felt, even in my jeans and dark long-sleeved shirt.
Isodidn't want to get involved. And yet, Ididwant that drink. I gazed past them toward the bar. Maybe if I snuck off to the side, they wouldn’t notice me?
No such luck.
I was just sidling past them when Tiffany said, "Jane knows. She'll tell you."
I froze in mid-step.Reluctantly, I turned to look. "Huh?"
Tiffany said, "A hairy ass. Hot or not?"
Oh, God.I looked toward the bar and wondered if they sold wine by the bottle, because I was pretty sure I'd be needing more than one glass.
Tiffany urged, "Go on. Tell him."
I looked to the senator and felt myself frown. The guy wasn't just unsteady. He looked almost ready to throw up. But why? Because he'd had too much to drink? Or because the topic of conversation was just that nauseating?
Tiffany gave me a look of impatience. "Well?"
I glanced around. "Uh, no comment?"
Tiffany beamed like I'd just given her the best participation trophy ever. She turned to the senator and said, "See! She totally agrees."
I made a sound of frustration. "That's not what I said."
But already, they'd moved on, yelling back and forth about her wardrobe allowance, even as the crowd around them grew.
Wanting no part of it, I hurried to the bar and ordered the first thing that came to mind. Surprisingly, it wasn't wine. It was a mimosa of all things.
A few paces away, the argument ended with Tiffany ripping off her engagement ring and hurling it onto the floor. I couldn't help but wince, even as she turned and flounced away, leaving the senator staring, unsteadily, after her.
I hadn't voted for the guy, but I still felt bad for him. While waiting for my drink, I watched as the crowd drifted away, leaving him standing alone, looking at the fallen ring.
He made no move to pick it up, and for some reason, that made the scene even more pathetic.
Unable to stop myself, I left the bar and returned to where he was standing. Silently, I picked up the ring and held it out in his direction.
But he didn't take it. Instead, he staggered forward, straight into my arms. He was a big guy – a pro football player back in the day, and I nearly fell backward under the weight of him.
He pulled back to mumble, "Sorry, guess I had one too many." He gave me a sad smile. "Walk me to the elevator?"
I glanced toward the bar, where my mimosa was now waiting on the counter. And then, I glanced toward the nearest bank of elevators.
Selfishly, I wanted to say no. But he looked so darned pathetic that I didn't have the heart. So I gave him a nod, and let him take my arm as we moved awkwardly in that direction.
As we walked, he muttered, "Fucking Zane Bennington."
My steps faltered, and I gave him a sideways glance. I wasn't even sure what he meant. Was it a description of what he thought Tiffany had done? Or was it merely a general observation on Zane himself? If that one was the case, I could definitely relate.
The senator slurred, "He's the reason we're here, you know."
This wasn't a surprise. And yet, part of me wanted to ask for details.
But I didn't. Gossiping aside, I hadn't sunk so low that I'd take advantage of a drunk guy.
Turns out, I was way too scrupulous, because less than ten minutes later, it washim, trying to take advantage ofme.
