Page 21 of Savannah Royals
“Aces.” I step into the dress, turning for Paul to do up the hooked buttons. While his fingers work, my own fly through my hair, weaving two French braids. I secure them in a crown with pins. Paul hands me the wig, and I put it on. Next comes a long strand of plumply exquisite pearls, stolen several years ago from a Savannah socialite. I loop the plunder twice around my neck so the first strand fits choker tight, the second dangling low over my décolletage.
A knock sounds at the door. “Hey, lovebirds, let’s get a wiggle on!”
“Kat’s not ready yet.” Paul opens the door as I begin pawing through my makeup products.
Tony peeks inside, eyeing my ensemble. “Mierda, Kat. You shopping for a replacement beau tonight, gringa?”
I frown at his reflection in the mirror and begin painting my face. “No, and I need five more minutes.” Ten to fix up the finger waves in my wig.
Tony ambles into the room and lounges on the bed. He has three buttons undone on his dress shirt, exposing a smattering of dark chest hair. He takes a deep swig from a bottle of gin, then passes it to Paul. Abe hovers in the doorway, Tony’s foil in naught but an informal white sleeveless shirt and workman’s pants. He strikes an impressive figure with his dark, round shoulders on full display, straining a pair of worn suspenders.
“You still want to hit Carousel, right?” Paul asks, taking his own gulp from the bottle. He hands it off to me, placing it on my vanity with athud.
“Absolutely,” Tony replies. “The jazz will be hot tonight.”
It’s a new sound, jazz, and it’s taking Savannah by storm this year. Tony and I can’t get enough. I swipe the mascara wand over my lashes, then pick up the bottle of gin. It’s an expensive label, one from Paul’s not-so-secret stash. I tip my head back to take a big gulp, then a second.
“Easy, killer.” Paul reaches for the bottle.
“I think she’s a hellraiser.” I point to my reflection in the mirror and grin wickedly. “I can feel it. Must be the hair.”
“Oh boy!” Tony slaps his hands together and rubs. “She’s getting into character. Look out, ladies and gents.”
I pick up red lipstick, meeting Paul’s heated gaze in the mirror as I sweep it on.
“Bella, Katarina,” Tony pronounces. “Now can we go?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, and Tony breezes from the room.
“You look real swell, doll,” Paul whispers. His hand quickly caresses my backside before he departs.
I pause to give myself a final once-over in the mirror. Alcohol thrums through my veins, excitement flushing my cheeks. When I turn, Abe is the only one remaining, hovering in the doorway.
“How do I look?” I cock out a hip.
“Like the cat’s meow. As always.” Abe has the gin, and he takes a deep swallow, eyes locked on me. Electricity crackles in his gaze. Lingering.
My blood simmers, and I bask in his attention, the way a kitten licks up every last drop of cream.
“You like?” I step close to him and loop my fingers through his suspenders, leaning my hips dangerously close to his.
Nine days out of ten, Abe is like my brother, but sometimes, on that tenth day, when temptation burns in those dark eyes of his…it’s fun to play. I flutter my lashes as a throaty laugh bubbles out.
Hellraiser indeed.
“Christ, Kat.” He fidgets, then steps back, glancing nervously over his shoulder. “We should go.”
“One more sip.” I steal the gin from him and take another swig, a little smaller this time.
Abe watches me swallow, wary but riveted. “You’re going to be a handful this evening, aren’t you?”
“Your favorite kind of handful.” I eye him knowingly as I pass the bottle back. “Your turn.”
He watches me again. Smiles slowly.
Then he chugs.
CHAPTER SIX
