Page 73 of The Wicked

“Got into a bar fight, and allegedly a bag of coke fell out of his pocket. Burford will make any charges disappear, but you just know some asshole’s gonna leak the details to the press.”

“I’m on my way.”

I could hear Trey in the background, whining as usual.It was only one line, I don’t see the big deal.But for once, I wasn’t mad that Trey had travelled down the path of irresponsibility yet again. A little drug bust was nothing compared to some of his past escapades. And thanks to his screw-up, I had a genuine emergency at home, a real excuse for leaving Saralisa in bed alone this morning.

Damn, this was a mess.

26

SARA

“Tell us everything.”

Brooke rested her chin on her hands across the table and regarded me with gleaming eyes. It was girls’ night at Applejack’s—well, girls’ night plus Paulo—and I had an audience of six. Even Brie had shown up for the gossip tonight. Her security team hovered in the background like hot Scandinavian ninjas.

“Maybe she needs another cocktail first?” Addy suggested.

“No, really—”

Too late. Addy was already topping off my glass from a jug of the house special—applejack, blue curaçao, and lemonade garnished with apple slices. On any other night, I would have ignored the alcohol and switched to water, but Garrett had promised to rescue me at the end of the evening and make sure I got home. Which would be the pool house tonight. Darla was working in Virginia again this week, and Brooke had offered me some shifts at the Craft Cabin. I still hadn’t decided whether to accept Garrett’s offer. Five weeks after I puked on his shoes, things were going good between us, better than good, but this was all so new. So strange. Plus he had to take a trip to Los Angeles for work next week, and I’d feel a bit weird staying at his place by myself, especially with his family so close by. And I missed my friends. I even missed Baldwin’s Shore a tiny bit, something I’d never thought would be possible.

“Did you change your hair?” Brie asked. “It looks nice.”

I nodded. “I’ve changed so much—my hair, my clothes, my outlook on life. It was time. I’m sick of being a doormat.”

“Good for you.”

“Now spill the tea,” Brooke instructed. “We googled your new guy, and ohmigosh…” She fanned herself with a menu. “You met him at the masked ball?”

“We both crashed the party and ended up dancing together, then one thing led to another and he ended up charging into the craft store and taking me skydiving.”

“Uh, what?Skydiving?”

“Indoor skydiving.”

I gave them a brief rundown of events, leaving out any mention of handcuffs, riding crops, and nipple clamps. To be honest, I still wasn’t sure about the nipple clamps. We’d only tried them once, and although the after-effects were exquisite, actually wearing them hurt a little more than I was comfortable with. Garrett was going to pick up a different pair to see if they were any better. Anyhow, I focused on the sweet stuff, the parts that wouldn’t ruin reputations if they got picked up by the papers. Not that I didn’t trust my friends. None of them would knowingly sell a story, but Paulo in particular had a big mouth, although Brooke said he’d learned to zip it after he began seeing Davis French. Did Davis have a nervous PR lady the same way the Dorsey family did? Her name was Angela, and I’d met her in the aftermath of Trey’s latest scandal. Luckily, his bag of “coke” had turned out to be a mixture of baby laxatives and powdered vitamins, and he’d been more upset about getting ripped off by his now ex-dealer than the potential drugs charge.

Angela had also given me a lecture on the importance of protecting “the family,” and when I’d made a joke about the Mafia, she hadn’t cracked a smile. But she did have a minor breakdown when she realised I hadn’t signed a nondisclosure agreement, then Garrett walked in and said I didn’t have to because he trusted me, which had sent a whole other kind of warmth through my veins. But I also didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with Angela, so I’d insisted on signing the NDA anyway.

Brooke gave me a sappy grin. “Aw, he takes you dancing? That’s so romantic.”

“That salsa class we went to sure paid off,” Paulo said, nearly taking his eye out with a swizzle stick. “Was it my excellent footwork that helped you to hook your man?”

“I hate to break it to you, but I was actually a junior dance champion before I moved to Baldwin’s Shore. Only national, not world.”

Six jaws dropped.

“Oh, sure, only national.” Ah, there was Blue’s snark.

“So, do you know any hot dancers?” Addy queried. “Asking for a friend.”

“Not anymore. My old dance partner was the son of the Polish ambassador, and he moved back home years ago.”

“Aren’t you the dark horse,” Blue muttered.

“My mom worked on Capitol Hill and my godfather was a senator. Practically all of our family friends were connected to politics, but my dad and Marcin’s dad met at an art exhibition.” I took a sip of my cocktail. “I miss my old world, and I’m going to start taking steps to reclaim whatever I can from it. Dancing, art, my old name. I’m sick of hiding away.”

Romi looked puzzled. “Wait, your name isn’t Sara?”

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