Page 66 of First Star I See Tonight (Chicago Stars 8)

“Older or younger?” He asked as if he were genuinely interested.

“It depends on the situation.”

“What about now?”

“Um . . . forty-two.”

“Seriously?” He grinned. “That’s sick. I dig older women.” His breath held the overly sweet stench of the Red Bull he’d been mixing with Grey Goose, and he seemed to be having trouble focusing. “People think everythin’s a big party for me, but it’s not. I got all this business to handle. Lotta people to take care of.”

For a moment he looked like a lonely fifteen-year-old, and she felt a flash of pity for him. She’d been lucky enough to celebrate her own twenty-first birthday at a bar in Boystown with a rowdy group of friends—people who liked her for herself. Maybe Logan knew that without his fame and money, none of these people would be here.

He swallowed the last of his current drink. “I wanna dance.”

Celebs frequently left VIP to go down to the floor, but there was a weird energy in the club tonight that she didn’t like. Too many people, everything louder than normal, guests bumping into each other, servers dropping trays, glasses shattering. A fight had already broken out, and although Ernie and Bryan had intervened so quickly that hardly anyone had noticed, she didn’t want there to be another.

“Let’s talk instead,” she said. “It’s a real crush down there tonight.”

“Tha’s what makes it fun.” He grabbed her arm. “Come on.”

The girls in the booth didn’t like seeing him leave with her instead of one of them, but Piper needed to stay close. Also, Jen would love hearing about this.

Spiral’s patrons were older than Logan’s core group of tween fans, but he was still a celeb, and people began to press in on him. His bodyguards made a phalanx through the crowd. The DJ segued into “Not Witch U Now,” his last hit.

She was a decent dancer, but, drunk or sober, Logan was a great dancer, and she didn’t try to compete but simply surrendered to the beat. He gave her a drunken grin. More people came on the floor, trying to get closer. Logan moved to the edge, grabbed the drink one of his drunken posse members handed him, and downed it.

The music grew louder. Three willowy hair-swishers cut Piper out. As they began grinding on Logan, she pictured a trio of beautiful sharks devouring a very small herring. One looped her arms around his neck, another around his waist. Even drunk, Logan started to look nervous. His security, along with Jonah and Bryan, began to move in, but something about the women’s determination made Piper certain there’d be trouble if the men touched them. She wedged herself in front of the closest woman, but there was only one of her, three of them . . .

And one of Coop Graham . . .

“Ladies . . .” He tapped two of the outliers on their shoulders, at the same time giving Piper the signal to close back in on Logan. “I’m getting lonely here.”

The women moved in for the bigger prize.

Logan, in the meantime, lost his balance. Whether someone pushed him or he was too drunk to stand, Piper couldn’t tell, but he staggered, then fell to the dance floor. His sunglasses flew off and crunched under one of the dancers’ feet.

A couple of his drunken bodyguards rushed in, pushing everyone who stood in their way, and knocking over two of the male guests. One of them landed on Logan, but that didn’t stop his security from trying to charge through a cluster of women who were blocking their path. Piper spun on them both. “Back off! Now!”

Miraculously, they stopped. Coop helped the male guests up, patting them on the back and inviting them to VIP for a drink. The three shark women pushed their way through the dancers, trying to return to their pop idol herring. Coop stepped in front of them, ready to pile on the charm, even though all the jostling had to be hurting him. Logan’s bodyguards began to shove into the crowd again as Piper got Logan to his feet.

“Tell your posse to back off,” she shouted into his ear, “and I’ll make your wildest dreams come true.”

He gave her a drunken leer. “For real?”

“A one-way ticket to paradise.”

As he complied, she grabbed his arm, pulled him to the edge of the floor, and steered him into the kitchen.

A massive tray of bourbon brownies nested in square paper liners sat on the counter. She’d barely eaten all day, and she grabbed a couple of them, warm and oozing chocolate. “Private party,” she told Logan.

Using a combination of strength and stealth, she managed to maneuver him up the stairs and into her apartment. “Wha’s this,” he slurred.

“The Garden of Eden,” she said dryly.

He gave her a lopsided grin. His eyes without his sunglasses were small, brown, and unremarkable. “Whadda you got to drink?” he asked as he tried to prop himself against the counter that divided the living area and kitchen.

All she had were a couple of juice boxes and some beer. She kicked off her shoes and held up the two squished bourbon brownies. “I’ve got something even better.”

“Pot brownies!” He would have grabbed them both if she hadn’t sequestered one at the end of the counter for herself.

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