What kind of friend are you? I scold myself. Flirting with your best friend’s boyfriend!
Just another example of why Mr. Thompson warned me about him. Obviously, he’s unfaithful too.
The hummingbird departs, leaving behind the heavy stone in her place, making me want to cry. My anxious feet distance themselves from him, while I lower my head in shame.
“What’s wrong?” he questions.
I look at him through my lashes and discover the smile has faded from his lips, adding another layer to my guilt. Now I’ve hurt him too.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I lie.
My eyes shift around the room, seeking for an exit, only to find we’re blocked in on all sides. Did he somehow bribe the patrons to keep us enclosed?
“We have an audience,” he says, gesturing with his head to someone behind me. “Anyone you know?”
As I turn in a slow circle, all my anguish melts away as I behold Patsy, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Beside her is John, wearing a dignified smile.
My eyes widen as my lips curve. “Hey, you made it.” With open arms, I lunge towards Patsy, who accepts my embrace, wrapping her arms around me. “You look spectacular.”
Patsy wears a simple white dress with short sleeves and a soft pink ribbon around her waist. She curled her hair and applied a light layer of silvery makeup, causing her dark eyes to glimmer.
“Thank you,” she replies. “But I’m not as stunning as you.”
As we release, I observe John waiting patiently for his turn. Even he is rather dashing in his sky-blue shirt and black trousers. He tamed his mop of hair and tucked it behind his ears.
As he envelopes me in his arms, he brings his lips towards mine. I turn my face and his lips land on my cheek instead.
I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this level of familiarity with him. We’ve hugged once before, but I’m not comfortable with this public display of affection. In fact, I can’t say I’m comfortable with any displays of affection from John.
As I try to ease myself away, he tightens his arms around my waist, heightening my vexation towards him. I slap my palms against his chest and push against him, liberating myself from his embrace. I avoid his gaze in fear of enduring another bout of guilt.
“Let me introduce you to my boss,” I say, twisting my body towards Angelo, and I’m elated to discover his smile has returned.
For now, he hides his hands within his trouser pockets until I introduce Patsy and John. He extracts one hand and offers it to Patsy. “Nice to meet you.”
Patsy’s hand trembles as she welcomes his. Even her voice raises an octave.
“Hi. I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to you. Wow, you’re so much more handsomer in person than in the papers or on TV. Is handsomer even a word? Oh, my gosh, now I’m babbling. I should probably shut up now. Yet here I am, still babbling. Oh, God.” A nervous giggle escapes her lips as she retracts her hand and turns on her heel, her expression peculiar. She clutches hold of my wrist, dragging me away from the men before closing the gap between us, and whispers. “I just made a complete idiot of myself, didn’t I?”
“No, you were fine,” I lie. “Why are you so nervous, anyway?”
“It’s Angelo Cappellini. He’s a celebrity in Twisted City, and I just met him.” Her restless feet tap dance on the spot.
Now I feel my face twist into a curious expression. “He’s that famous? I thought he made appearances in the paper because of his line of work.”
She giggles. “Have you been living under a rock? He’s known worldwide.”
“Television and newspapers weren’t my luxuries as a kid. I first heard about him three months ago when he called me for an audition.”
“And he’s your boss,” she continues to gush, fanning her face with her hands.
“Hey, Eva, have you girls finished gabbing?” Angelo asks.
We turn to observe Angelo standing with his hands in his pockets once again, wearing his mischievous grin.
John, however, stands with his arms folded across his chest, wearing a sneer until Patsy speaks. “Is everything okay?” she asks him.
His scowl transforms into a distinctively obvious fake smile. “Yeah. I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth.
For a moment, I sympathize with John, until he repositions himself by my side and allows his fingers to tiptoe along my back and rest on my shoulder. After glancing at his hand, I shrug it off. He’s either being ignorant of my aversion or dumb as he replaces his hand upon my hip, drawing me closer to his side. My mouth hangs agape as I glance towards John to discover the smugness on his face.
Though I’m not thrilled about it, I’ve accepted John’s fondness towards me. However, I will not tolerate his possessive behavior. I scoff before grabbing his hand to throw it from my hip and reposition myself beside Angelo.
My eyes narrow as I acknowledge John’s aggravated glare, though it appears aimed towards Angelo rather than myself. My eyes drift over to Patsy, who can’t pry her amorous gaze from Angelo.
The silence surrounding us becomes intolerable, along with the rising tension that pervades the air, though it’s radiating from John. Why is he being such a jerk?
“I’m heading up on stage soon. Why don’t you find a table?” I suggest.
“Sure. Where would be the best place for us to watch you?” Patsy asks.
“You can use my table tonight,” Angelo offers. “As long as you don’t mind me joining you.”
Patsy’s jaw drops while John grimaces. I half expect John to decline and search for another table, but apparently his loyalty to Patsy means more than his indignation for Angelo.
“Lead the way,” he says.
Before I’m able to follow Angelo to his table, Patsy, once again, clutches my wrist to hold me back.
“Pinch me, I’m dreaming,” she gushes.
I giggle. “Nope, you’re not dreaming.”
She fans her face with her hand. “I can’t believe this is happening. I get to sit with Angelo Cappellini.”
“Only if you follow him and actually sit next to him. Come on.” With her hand remaining clamped to my wrist, I tug her along behind me.
Angelo and John have sat and have engaged in conversation, or at least, it appears they are conversing since John’s grimace remains visible. John is the first to notice us. His scowl diminishes, allowing a wide grin to take its place.
Angelo turns to face us before rising from his seat. “Here you go, ladies.” He gestures for us to sit.
Patsy slides in first, curving around the corner of the sofa to join John.
As I slide in, Angelo follows close, grasping my wrist to stop me halfway along the sofa. He slides his arm along the back of the sofa, allowing his body to seal the gap between us. His heat warms my body, while his scent imbues my nostrils. I turn my head to gaze into his eyes, only to discover his attention remains on Patsy and John.
This isn’t inappropriate, is it? Neither John nor Patsy can verify my assumption since Patsy reminds me of a deer in headlights as she ogles Angelo, while John resumes scowling. Even Angelo remains nonchalant as he watches his fingertips drum an intermittent beat on the table.
The same tension and awkward silence since meeting my friends accompanied us to the table. I rest my hands in my lap and allow my fingers to comfort one another. My eyes flicker between the three people and I chew on the inside of my cheek. This is awful and will only get worse when I go on stage. How can I get them talking?
“Does anyone want a drink?” Angelo asks.
Not exactly what I was hoping for, but it’s a start.
“Sure,” Patsy says, though she omits to mention what drink she would like.
“Beer for me,” John tells him. “Whatever you have on tap or in a bottle.”
I arch an eyebrow at Patsy as I try to prompt a response from her without embarrassing her further.
She furrows her brow for a second. “Oh! A vodka cranberry would be nice.”
“Eva
, will you come and help me get the drinks?” Angelo asks.
“Sure.” A sense of relief washes over me as Angelo liberates me from the awkwardness.
“So, your friends,” he begins once we’re a distance from them. “They seem nice.”
I glance sideways towards him. He wears his mischievous grin.
“Patsy’s starstruck,” I say. “John, however…I don’t know what’s up with him. This isn’t how he normally acts.”
“Not sure what I can do for John, but I can put a few drinks in Patsy and loosen her up a little,” he tells me.
My eyes widen as I rest a hand on my hip. “Patsy has a boyfriend, and you have—”
“Hey, Ange. Do you have a minute?” Frankie asks, cutting me off before I can reprimand him for flirting with other girls while he’s dating my best friend.
“Sure, what’s up?”
While the two brothers converse, I continue to my destination. Once I reach the bar, I rest my elbows on the top and nestle my chin in the palms of my hands.
“Hey, Eva,” Mary greets me.
While she’s busying herself pouring drinks for other patrons, I notice her glistening nails.
“New nails?” I comment when she’s able to assist me.
She rests one elbow on the bar, nestling her chin in her palm. With her free hand, she wiggles her fingers in front of me. “You like them? The color’s called ‘Moonlight.’”
As the light reflects from her fingernails, they sparkle an iridescent silver and black.
“Actually, I do. Where do you get them done?”
“The nail salon on Main Street. You should come with me sometime.”
I rise from the palms of my hands and present my chewed stubs to Mary. “I’m not sure there’s enough nail to paint.”
“Ever thought of fake nails?” she asks.
“I’d only chew those too,” I chuckle weakly.
The warmth of Angelo’s body presses against my back as his hands reach past my waist to rest on the edge of the bar, and he rests his chin on my shoulder.
“You got those drinks ready yet?” he says, his breath tickling my ear.
Even though I know this is inappropriate behavior, I’m unable to escape. My wide eyes remain on Mary, despite her attention on Angelo, completely oblivious to the indiscretion. A fight ensues within my body. The hummingbird flutters around her cage, awakening my senses, while my mind reprimands her and orders her to settle. Yet I’m losing the will to thwart his advances.
“Whiskey and a Coke?” asks Mary.
“Beer and a vodka cranberry as well,” Angelo says.
“What kind of beer?”
Angelo rests his hands on my hips as he stands tall. A hot blush stains my cheeks, while the hummingbird pounds against my chest, desperate for a way out.
“Do you know what he likes?” he asks me.
With my body rigid, I shake my head.
“Get him a Bud,” Angelo tells Mary.
Mary gets to work on our order.
Angelo’s lips brush against my ear, while his hot breath flows down my neck. “Maybe I should have someone take your spot tonight, so you can spend the evening with me.”
“Wouldn’t that disappoint everyone here?” I ask, maintaining my focus on Mary.
“Would you rather disappoint your boss?” he teases.
A nervous giggle creeps up my windpipe and escapes before I can repress it. “No, but wouldn’t it upset your customers if I don’t sing?”
My body and breath quiver as his hands reach around to the flat of my stomach to interlock his fingers.
“Fine. Leave me with your friends. But you can make it up to me later.”
I slide my eyes closed as I lose myself to him.
“Here we are,” Mary says, causing Angelo to liberate me from his grasp.
My eyes flicker open to discover she still shows no signs of misconduct between Angelo and I. Could it all be in my head, and this kind of flirtation is acceptable among friends?
No, that’s not possible. Even though Alice isn’t the jealous type, this would trigger a reaction.
After collecting our beverages, Angelo silently turns away from the bar and leads us back to the table. Once seated, he rests his arm along the back of the sofa and closes the gap between us.
I expect the awkward silence to return. But to my surprise, Patsy has found her voice and asks Angelo questions. I lean back against the sofa, allowing her and Angelo to converse. I glance at John and notice the grimace has faded, leaving a smile in its place.
Twenty minutes later, I’m summoned to entertain, and I’m no longer feeling apprehensive about leaving the three alone. Angelo rises from the sofa, granting me access. However, he stops me from proceeding to the stage as he slips his arm behind my back. His fingertips tiptoe towards my waist. His soft lips press against my cheek, provoking a hot blush to rise.
“You’ll be fantastic as always, angel,” he murmurs into my ear.
I know Patsy heard him as she brings both hands to cover her cheeks. That’s so sweet, she mouths.
There’s no need to look at John; I sense his glare burning holes into both Angelo and I.
“Thanks,” I mumble as I ease away from him.
For a moment, our eyes lock, though I’m unable to determine what dwells within his. A slight curve dances along his lips, only to disperse soon after as he returns to his seat.
For now, I’m relieved he’s abandoned his advances towards me. However, the moment I turn away and begin my journey towards the stairs, my wretched heart calls out for him.
Once I reach the microphone, my gaze gravitates to Angelo’s table, and I discover he has invited Patsy to close the gap between them. He leans towards her to whisper something in her ear, inducing a glow to emanate from her face. Despite their closeness, Angelo’s hands remain on the table with his fingers laced; Patsy cradles her glass between her palms, though this doesn’t abate the burning fury erupting within me.
You’re both in relationships. Back off each other, I silently reprimand them.
I take a quick glance at John and find him seething with anger.
A slither of remorse soaks through my skin as I observe his anguish, but it soon dissipates. There’s no need for this hostile behavior, since Angelo would talk to him too, if he wanted to talk. It’s John who is excluding himself from the group.
Before I can allow my thoughts to contemplate any further, the music begins, signaling the start of my performance.
It’s like I’ve only finished my first performance, even though I’ve done this countless times now. As I descend the stairs my body quivers and my throat is dry.
During my time on stage, I maintained my focus on Angelo’s table. Patsy was dancing in her seat, while Angelo sat back with his arm stretched along the back of the sofa. As always, he wore a smile as he watched me.
But John’s angry glare remained on his bottle of beer most of the time. When he glanced my way, the fury that spewed forth from his penetrating stare was terrifying. If we could dismiss John and his melancholic attitude, Patsy, Angelo, and I could have a pleasant evening. But I doubt I could convince Patsy to abandon her best friend. Maybe I should hide in the office and ask Angelo to join me.
Before I can execute my plan, Patsy greets me with a wide smile. “You were fantastic!” she exclaims.
I tuck my hair behind my ears. “Thank you.”
“Can we dance?” she asks.
Without waiting for my response, she grabs my wrist and draws me into the sea of people. I look around for Angelo, only to find a wall of patrons obscures my view.
“Do you think they’ll be okay without us?” I ask.
She releases my wrist as her gaze falls to her hands plays with her fingernails. “That’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay.”
“John really likes you.”
A chuckle escapes my lips before I can suppress it. “Yeah, that’s a little obvious.” I fold my arms a
cross my chest. “Though I can’t say the feeling is mutual. Especially after tonight’s performance.”
She sighs. “I know, he’s acting like a jerk and I’ve even told him to stop, but you need to understand he feels threatened by Angelo. This is John’s default when he’s hurt.”
“Why is he threatened by Angelo?”
“Well, you two seem close.”
My hands gravitate to my hips. “We’re just friends, and he’s dating someone.”
“Well, neither of us knew that.” She arches an eyebrow and one corner of her mouth hitches up. “And you two sure appear intimate.”
Did either of them see Angelo and my interaction by the bar?
“I don’t know what more to say, Patsy,” I tell her. “Yes, I know John wants more than friendship, but I’m not ready for that. As for Angelo, we’re friends, and I’m sorry if John feels threatened or hurt by our interactions, but this is how we are. It’s how we’ve always been.”
Who am I trying to convince more that there’s nothing but friendship between Angelo and me? Patsy or myself?
Her face softens as a gentle curve dances along her lips. “Believe me, I understand. Do you have any idea how many people have questioned John and I’s relationship? But if Angelo’s taken and you’re single, then why not go on a date with John?”
“How long have I known you and John for? A week?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been working here for three months, almost every night, so I’ve grown to know Angelo really well and I trust him. I can’t say I feel the same way with John after tonight.”
Patsy gently reaches for my shoulders. “Please don’t let tonight cloud your judgement. Call tonight’s behavior a fluke, a one-off, and not the real John. In reality, he’s a real sweetheart.”
“Hey, Patsy,” John’s voice interrupts us.
Patsy’s hands retract from my shoulders as she turns to face him. Her face lights up like the morning sun and I understand why people would question their devotion to each other. They do appear to be more than friends.
As I glance sideways towards John, I fold my arms across my chest and chew on my lip.
The fury in his eyes has dissipated, though he refuses to look at me. He hides his hands in his trouser pockets. “I was feeling kind of lonely over there,” he tells her.
Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1) Page 18