Dave immediately spouts, “I called him!”
Nikki’s pretty face contorts, “He’s clearly into women, Dave. Did you see how he looked at me? He wants me.”
Dave retorts, “Bitch, please. He was staring because you have lipstick on your teeth.”
Ah. There’s the diva we all missed!
Nikki gasps loudly, “You lie!” while searching her clutch for a compact mirror. Rubbing her fingertips along her teeth none too softly, I look up at Dave and mouth, “You’re mean.”
Smirking like the asshole he is, he shrugs and mouths back, “He wants me.”
And truthfully, I have no idea who Happy wants. He’s hard to read.
Dave takes his place between us, and Nikki and I thread our arms through his elbows, then in we go. The entrance leads to a hall that could double as a ballroom all on its own. Silken drapes hang from the ceiling to the floor in emerald greens and ruby reds.
Pure class.
This place is elegant. And chic. And tasteful.
Pieces of artwork have been placed here and there, and although it should look odd, it doesn’t. It looks fabulous. Taking our place in line to the ballroom, we wait and look around until I hear a female clear her throat by my side. Turning, I look to see a very bored-looking Ling by my side. She looks fabulous. Of course. I’m not really sure what she’s meant to be, but she’s dressed in a sleek black dress with her hair in a chic up-style, wearing long black gloves and pearls. Now that I look closer, she could be Audrey Hepburn a la Breakfast at Tiffany’s. She can barely contain the eye roll as she says robotically, “You don’t wait in line. Come with me.”
Bitch.
Not saying a word, we follow Ling from the long line to a door hidden behind the gorgeous drapes. Looking Dave up and down, she licks her lips, “Shortcut.”
When she turns her back on us, Dave’s brows rise and I roll my eyes in a don’t ask kind of way.
A long narrow hall that seems to go on forever leads us right into the kitchen. Workers hustle and bustle while we step around them. I catch Nikki snatching something off a tray and shove it into her mouth as quickly as she can. I bunch my face at her in warning and she shrugs, chewing as obviously as she can before she whispers, “That was divine.”
When we reach another hall, Ling turns to me, but speaks without looking at me. “Follow the hall. First door on your left.” Peeking through her long lashes at Dave, she runs a finger down his chest to his stomach before licking her lips and walking away. We all watch a long while before Nikki mutters, “Her gaydar is broken.”
Silently chuckling, I open the door, and my eyes light up when I realize it leads right into the ballroom.
This place…Oh God, this place! It’s stunning. I want to live here. Forever and ever. Amen.
It’s the epitome of elegance. The sparkling white-tiled floor is freshly polished and waxed, with tall, thick Grecian-style pillars every few yards in the brightest of whites. They seem to be holding up the room while the walls gleam in gold and peach. Curtains, also peach-colored, decorate the six bay windows on both sides of the room.
Round tables that seat eight each are strategically placed around the room. The white tablecloths match the white chair covers, each chair decorated with a thick peach and gold ribbon fastened into a bow at the back.
And here we are, three nobodies who should not be able to afford to come to a charity ball like this, openly gaping at our surroundings.
A moment passes before Nikki murmurs, “Maybe we should get our masks on.”
I’ve been holding my mask the entire time. The invitation said costumes were a must but masks were optional, and from what I can see, most of the women have worn them while none of the men have bothered. Which is fair, because when I asked Dave which mask he chose, he laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more.
Nodding to Nikki, she comes forward to help me with my mask. It’s a little unusual, but I couldn’t say no. It’s all white lace in the shape of a butterfly, and lined with white velvet; she clips it into the sides of my hair. It’s so light, it doesn’t feel like I’m wearing anything at all, and although it covers most of my face, you can still see it’s me. Nikki chose a black and gold cat-eye mask, which is held up by a long thin pole in her hand.
Both masked, we smile at each other and take Dave’s elbow. Walking past a tall spiral staircase, I feel eyes on me. Halting in my tracks, I look up.
I spot him at the top of the stairs walking down towards me. He’s dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and black silken wings. The wings are tattered and frayed. His slacks are ripped, his white shirt torn and slashed. Red droplets of dried paint drip from his heart. Something black that looks like soot has been rubbed into his face to make him look dirty. When he reaches us, he looks Dave up and down before uttering huskily, “I believe this belongs to me.”
Holding his hand out, palm up, I don’t even think as I let go of Dave and move over to stand with him. Tucking my hand into the crook of his elbow, he holds out his free hand to Dave and introduces himself. “You’re David Allen.” Dave nods, dumbstruck. Letting go of Dave’s hand, he takes Nikki’s small hand in his and kisses the top of it. “And you must be the lovely Nicole Palmer.”
Oh my God. The nerve! Acting all fakely suave around my friends. Gah!
Gritting my teeth and gripping his shirt tightly, I watch my friends go gaga over Twitch and fight the urge to yell, “It’s a trap! Don’t fall for it!” and continue to hold onto him. He chats with Nikki and Dave a while, and Nikki shoots me a look that says she approves. As in, a lot. I can see Dave has his doubts, eyeing Twitch’s tattooed neck and hands. I want to flick his nose, telling him not to stereotype people, but in this instance, I’d be wrong.
Twitch is exactly as his stereotype predicts. And that sucks.
I wish he was different. He’s not exactly boyfriend material. That, and he has a girlfriend.
At least, I think he does. Ling’s a bitch. She’d suit him to a T.
Suddenly, we’re walking in the opposite direction from my friends. Brows bunched, I ask, “Where are we going?”
He says with no feeling, “I told them I’d claimed you as my date tonight.” Face scrunching further, he eyes me and his lip twitches. “Nicole seems to like me. David not so much.”
I scoff, “That’s because you’re full of shit! Nikki is a hopeless romantic, whereas Dave can smell bullshit a mile away.” He doesn’t respond, just walks me along nodding his head. We stop at a deserted corner of the room and Twitch takes his time looking over my costume.
The more he looks, the more irritated he seems to become. And suddenly, I’m petrified that I made the wrong choice. Trying to take attention off of me, I ask, “What are you meant to be?”
His gaze roams my body once more. His hooded eyes finally reach mine. Searching my face a long time, he finally turns away, looking into the crowd. “Love.”
My entire body breaks out in goosebumps and I visibly shudder.
Love? He’s love? What the heck? He and I have very different views of love. That’s sad. Just…sad.
Catching my eyes, he scowls, “Don’t do that.” My face falls, and as I go to ask him what he means, he adds, “Don’t feel sorry for me. And don’t assume you know me. You don’t know shit about me.”
Face flaming, wanting to avoid an argument, I let go of his sleeve and start to walk away. He catches my hand and holds it tight, leading me in the opposite direction. Confused, I ask quietly, “Where are we going?”
He walks me a long while before he answers, “Taking you on a tour of my home.”
Did he just say his home? This is his home?