Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

“Because you were afraid?”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“So tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“Why you brought me. Everything.”

“Now I doubt she’ll even talk to me.”

Misty pats my hand. “Let me handle this.”

“Wait, no, Misty!” But she’s already dashing up the steps.

“Goddamn it,” I hiss, knowing this is going to be a disaster. I drag a hand down my face and trudge up the steps.

6 Sara

I’m in the ladies’ room staring in the mirror and patting a damp cloth under my eyes. It’s no use, though. The silent crying I just did in the stall has my eyes red and puffy. I pull out some concealer from my evening bag, determined to look decent when I walk back out. I wonder how long it will take to get another Uber to come pick me up. The one that brought me here said they usually don’t come this far out.

I’m alone in the room, but the door opens and heels click across the marble floor. A woman comes around the corner, and our eyes meet in the mirror. Oh, for the love. It would have to be Irish’s girl. What did he call her?

She extends her hand. “Hi, I’m Misty.”

I turn and look at her hand, then meet her eyes. “Are you his wife?”

She drops her hand and huffs out a laugh. “God, no, me and Green? He just brought me along because he didn’t want to come alone. He got scared you might be a dog now or married or something.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t be surprised. Men are idiots, the whole lot of them. Take it from me, I’ve seen them at their worst.”

“A beautiful girl like you?”

“I’m a stripper, and honey, if that’s not an education in the opposite sex, I don’t know what is.”

“You’re a . . .”

“It’s okay, you can say it. I’m not offended or ashamed of what I do. I make damn good money.”

“I didn’t mean . . .”

“Sure you did.” She pulls out a cigarette and lights it, then blows the smoke toward the ceiling, resting her ass on the counter. She plants a hand on the granite and leans toward me. “Look, let me be honest with you. Green’s got it bad for you, or for whatever you two used to have together.” She shrugs. “I may be a bitch, but I’m a romantic at heart, and I’d hate to see you break his. So, if it’s me that has your panties in a wad, don’t worry, I’m not interested in Green.”

“Why do you keep calling him Green?”

“That’s the only name I’ve ever known him by. That’s what everybody calls him.”

I shove my concealer tube back in my beaded clutch. “Well, thanks for the advice on men, but this was a mistake. I never should have come.”

“You had some kind of pact or something?”

That stops me. “What do you know about it?”

She shrugs. “Just what Green told me. Look, the boy was like a lovesick cow on the way over here. It’d be decent of you to throw him a bone. At least go out there and let him explain. Then if you still want to leave, leave.” She hops off the countertop and twists to put her cigarette out under the tap. “No skin off my nose.” She meets my eyes. “You do what you want.”

I watch her strut away, but she pauses and looks back at me, her eyes skating over me. “Love that dress, by the way. Bet his mouth dropped when he saw you.”

After she’s gone, I stare in the mirror and consider my options. I can run scared with my tail between my legs and get the fuck out of here. Or . . . I can go find Irish and figure out if what we had out in the garden was real or just some magical fairytale in my head. What would Misty do?

I straighten my spine. “Be a badass, Sara.”

I pull open the door, and model my strut after hers, head held high.

I spot him at a table alone, flipping an empty shot glass over and over on the linen tablecloth.

I glance around, looking for Misty, and find her at the bar, pressed up against some guy I think was on the basketball team in high school. She’s staring adoringly up at him as he laughs at something she says.

I refocus my attention on Irish, and weave between tables until I’m standing beside him. The shot glass stops moving, and he slowly looks up at me.

“Dance with me,” I say.

Without saying a word, he stands, takes my hand, and leads me out on the floor. We whirl around the floor once before he finally speaks.

“I thought I blew it. I thought you’d left.”

“I almost did. Your girl stopped me.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“I know. She told me that.”

“What else did she tell you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.”

“All good things. Now shut up and kiss me.”

His eyes drop to my mouth, and he murmurs, “Yes, ma’am.” A split second later, he covers my lips in a soft kiss. Another trip around the dance floor and he’s pulling me out a side door and into a darkened hallway. The coat check is back toward the main hall to the left, so he pulls me to the right and into a darkened alcove under a set of stairs. We’re totally alone, but the music carries to us. Sheryl Crow’s “My Favorite Mistake”.

He grins down at me. “There’s your girl. I remember you used to play this CD over and over.”

I cock my head to the side. “I still do.”

“I want to run my fingers through your hair, but I’m afraid to touch it. How many pins you got holdin’ it all up?”

“Lots.”

“Damn it.” His eyes move over it. “Still as long as it used to be?”

“Close.”

“You always had such gorgeous hair. Thick and silky.” His eyes drop to mine. “You gonna let me take you home, Sara? Let me pull all those pins out of your hair?”

I cup his face, and pull his mouth to