Page 26 of Ice Cold Hearts
What follows is nearly an hour of dancing with one man, only to be stolen away by another with increasingly ridiculous threats or reasons it’s their turn.
I had expected flirting. I had expected the sultry promises of what would happen once they got me alone. What I hadn’t expected was the easy camaraderie and lighthearted fun. These men, my men, are full of surprises, and I never want this night to end.
Unfortunately, I don't have the same stamina I did at twenty-one. Since I'm basically just a houseplant with big feelings, I decide water is in order to keep from wilting completely. After shooing Ian back to the table, I hit the restroom and run some cold water over my wrists to cool down faster. I almost don't recognize the bright-eyed, glowing girl reflected back at me.
Mom was right. I really should get out more.
There's an extra bounce in my step as I head to the corner of the bar and wait for an opportunity to catch one of the bartender’s eyes.
It isn't long before I've got a delightfully cold glass of water in my hands. When I turn toward the table, I catch sight of someone I hoped to never see again barreling toward me at top speed.
I grip my glass so tightly it's bound to shatter at any moment. My legs won't stop shaking, and the fried pickle chips are coming dangerously close to reappearing all over the club floor. All the muscles in my body are taut and ready to run, but I can't make myself move. I am a toad frozen by the gaze of a snake.
Every vile word she said to me nails me to the floor.
“Do you have any idea how many girls a week I get in here claiming Oliver is the father of their child? Come up with something original, at least.”
“I'm sure you believe it's the truth. Everyone is always so sure. I can't say I blame you. I imagine it'd be a lot more convenient for you to be knocked up by an up and coming athlete than your addict boyfriend.”
“The only possibility? Don't make me laugh. Do you actually remember who it was or were you so blitzed, you landed on the last face you saw on TV?”
“The papers? Little girl, even if you had triple the amount of contacts that I have in the press, I could still bury you so deep your child won't ever see the sun. No matter where you go or how hard you fight, you'll always be the whore who cried wolf. Do you really want anyone stupid enough to give you an interview to find all those articles about you? You won't be able to land a job as a night shift dishwasher when I'm done with you.”
“Not afraid of me? The confidence is adorable. Do you really think the press will leave you alone if you do end up going to them? Being harassed at home, at your ‘job’, and anywhere else you show your greasy face? That's brave, putting your child at risk. Maybe you could handle the stress and bring it to term. But then there's all the scrutiny of every feature that baby has to see if you're actually telling the truth, prying into your medical record and theirs. Not to mention that I'll personally make sure that child's face is splashed on the front page of every paper in this city. But go ahead and go to the press. It'll be the most fun I've had in ages.”
“Not going to leave until you see him? Are you just stupid or are you mentally impaired? Security will have no issue throwing you out on your ass. They can each lift three hundred pounds, so if they balance the weight between them, it'll only take two of them to haul you out of here. Three if you try to fight.”
“That's what I thought. Now run along, Skank.”
The closer she gets, the more frozen I become.
I should have known this night was too good to last.
9
EMILY
Most of the time, when people learn that animals sometimes gnaw off their limbs to escape traps, they feel horror and compassion, but right now, I’m jealous of the little assholes. If I were able to get out of this by gnawing off a limb, I would do it in record time. Unfortunately, Liza has both literally and figuratively backed me into a corner so even if I did chew off a limb, I’d still be stuck here.
Her blonde hair falls around her in soft waves, and her deep red dress perfectly matches both the shade of her lipstick and her wine. I can’t help but wonder how long it took her to find such an exact match. She’s beautiful in the same way that nightshade is, but all I can see is the poisonous intent behind her eyes.
“Hey, girl. I’m sure he’s told you all about me already, but I’m Liza, Ollie’s agent. And you are?” she asks, flashing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Emily,” I answer warily.
Does she not know who I am?
“Is this your first time here?” Her voice is sticky-sweet.
I opt for short and succinct. Maybe she’ll get bored of me and wander away on her own.
“Yes,” I answer.
“I could tell,” she says, giving my shoulder a condescending pat. “There’s a certain attitude you develop when you run in the best circles, and you just look as fresh and simple as a daisy. I wish I could pull off a look like that.”
What game is she playing? More importantly, how do I end it?
“How do you know Ollie?” Liza presses.