by Marie Harte
B-Man murmured encouraging words while the interviewer handed her a hanky. Gear rolled his eyes. Oddly, of the three participants, she found the clown-faced villain to be the most real.
“Give me a break.” Gear huffed and turned to the emcee. “You know why I’m here, Tool?”
The interviewer’s face tightened. “That’s Todd.”
Sadie coughed, then bit back a laugh when Elliot stepped on her toes in warning. She put a finger over her lips. “I know, I know. Shh.”
“Todd,” Gear drawled, looking out of place with that square jaw and large red mouth. Sadie wouldn’t have recognized him as the once-bearded giant had Elliot not said something before. “I’m here because it’s in my contract to be here. I’m here so I can face this two-timing bitch and my fucker of an ex-best friend and give you some goddamn ratings.”
The censors had to love this guy.
The crowd hollered and whooped until a few of the television people got them back under control.
“Dream on,” B-Man snorted. “We know who cheated first, and it wasn’t us. We’re just friends anyway. Nothing to talk about except I feel so bad for Sahara. We know about your weekends in Taos with that chick you met at a fan show in Dallas. Hell, man. You and I talked about you flying her out for a hang and bang. I thought you were joking. With a woman as fine as Sahara, why go somewhere else?”
“Taos? What the hell are you talking about? What do I ever do but work on the show, covering up for your lack of talent?”
B-Man managed to look both sad and angry, and Sadie wondered if she’d had him all wrong.
“Oh, he’s good.” Elliot practically purred the word good, and she waited for him to tap his steepled fingers together like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. Excellent, B-Man. Exxccellent. “He’s lying, but he’s so good at it.”
Sadie was strangely hooked on the train wreck of an evening. Like the rest of the gathered partygoers, she was eager to be titillated by infidelity and a television camera. Real or not, it made for terrific entertainment. Especially since she doubted any of it was real.
They hurled insults at one another, most of them from the emotionally drained Sahara and B-Man asking why Gear had done what he’d done, while Gear called them everything under the sun that could and did offend.
“Say what you want.” Gear was smiling, and his painted mouth looked horribly deformed. Demonic. Sadie liked it. “You want her? You can have her. But fair warning, Sahara’s one desert that never stays dry. Your new girlfriend’s a climber, sleeping her way to the top one dick at a time.”
“Hey.” Sahara looked more angry than hurt, seemed to realize that fact, and started crying again.
Gear added in a more reasonable tone, “She’s more interested in what you can do for her than what she feels for you, Brian.”
“That’s B-Man to you,” Brian snarled. “And fuck you, Gear. You shit all over the show for months. Always wanting it your way. You treated her like crap. She never deserved it, and neither did I.” Now B-Man’s eyes were shining. “We were best friends, bro. How could you do me this way?”
“That’s rough,” Foley, the handsome cop next to Sadie, murmured. “Bros before—”
“You say hoes, you sleep alone,” his girlfriend warned.
“Ah, noes. I was going to say noes, as in, never cheat on your bud.”
“Good answer.”
“We grew up together, Gear,” B-Man was saying. “You’re like my brother. We learned how to build an engine together.”
“What script are you fucking reading from? Otis taught me how to build an engine, asshole. And fuck you. Brothers don’t sleep with their friend’s woman.” Gear glanced at Sahara with blatant disgust. “Although to be fair, it’s tough to resist a woman who never shuts her legs. Or her mouth.”
A few women in the crowd gasped. “Asshole,” one shouted. “Nice slut-shaming, Gear. You jerk.”
Not too popular with the ladies, was he? Frankly, Sadie didn’t care for his attitude much either.
“Yeah?” B-Man said, his gaze darting from the crowd to Gear. “Well, a real man doesn’t sleep around on his fiancée. You’re such a dick.”
The crowd cheered him while jeering at Gear.
Gear gave an angry laugh. “That’s right. Throw it all on me. While I’m working my ass off, you’re sleeping with my fiancée and making plans to cut me from the show. Stab me in the back again, why don’t you?”
“Nice story.” B-Man huffed. “She loved you, man. You ruined it all. Not me. And not her.”
Sahara remained quiet, looking at B-Man as if he’d hung the moon.
Sadie waffled once more, thinking B-Man in the right. Gear sounded like a chauvinistic jerk, and the cheating accusations could have come from him being caught, so he made up stuff about his friend and fiancée. Having dealt with a cheating ex, she was inclined to believe B-Man’s story. Yet…the makeup couldn’t hide Gear’s furious hurt. Until it smoothed out and his painted mouth sneered again.
Not sure what to believe, Sadie watched, enthralled and hating herself for it. Wait. Was that a flash of disdain in Sahara’s eyes before they turned grieving once more? And there, the smug satisfaction on B-Man’s face before he shook his head. He started arguing with his best friend again, asking him to come back. That despite it all, they could try to rebuild and forgive. And damn, but he sounded genuine, while Gear’s anger and smirking Joker face came across as rude, backstabby, and unforgiving.
“He needs some PR help,” Elliot whispered. “Seriously. He’s worse than you during the holiday rush.”
“Shut up, Elliot.” Sadie sighed, no longer entertained. “This is just sad. Let’s go back inside and get something to eat. I’m starved.”
“Yeah. What she said,” the redhead agreed, and her boyfriend joined her.
The four of them walked back inside the mansion, and Sadie appreciated the warmth generated by the hordes.
“Hi. I’m Cyn, and this is Foley,” the gorgeous redhead said by way of introduction and turned to Elliot. “I’ve seen you before.”
“Yeah, you look familiar to me too. I’m Elliot Liberato.” Elliot shook their hands. “This is my sister, Sadie.”
“Hi.” Sadie nodded at them, still thinking it too bad Officer Hottie had a woman.
“I’m not sure how I know you, but I’ll figure it out.” Cyn smiled at Elliot, engaged Foley in the conversation, and as usually happened with anyone who spoke with Elliot for any length of time, immediately became his new best friend.
“I’ll be back. Just going to get a drink.” Sadie was promptly ignored as the three of them laughed at something Elliot said.
With a sigh, she left them in favor of one of the appetizer tables, which sat on either side of the spacious ballroom being used as a dance floor. The decor looked terrific. Orange and black tablecloths were being constantly cleaned. She spotted Tory wiping up on the south side and gave her a wave.
Tory smiled back. More of Joaquin’s people milled around the outskirts of the dance floor, holding trays for revelers not wanting to load up. But not Sadie. She moved to the opposite side of the room, so as not to interrupt Tory, and filled a plate with tiny crab cakes, shrimp pâté, mini egg rolls, and—yes!—Elliot’s famous tiny corn dogs and a side of cheese curls.
She had to hand it to Joaquin, who catered to the lower class, like Sadie, as well as his hoity-toity guests, of which she’d guess more than half the invitees to be. He’d done well to hire Sofa’s Catering, because she, Elliot, and Rose made the perfect team to handle a shindig like this one. Delicious eats, but not too fancy that commoners couldn’t enjoy them.
Sadie grinned, liking the thought of being low man on the totem pole. God save her from famous idiots like the ones on Motorcycle Madnezz.
A wave at Theo and Gina, refilling her table, had the pair approaching.
Theo’s e
yes grew wide as he eyeballed Sadie’s costume. “Oh man. You are like every geek boy’s dream of Xena, Warrior Princess.” He blinked at her cleavage, which she didn’t think impressive in the slightest. “Nice, er, top.”
“Xena who?” Sadie asked.
Gina frowned. “Yeah, who?”
Theo groaned. “Today’s youth. So sad, Gina.” Gina was maybe a year Theo’s junior.
“Yeah, well, what’s her excuse?” Gina asked with no deference to Sadie—her boss—whatsoever. “Sadie’s thirty-four.”
“Thirty-two,” Sadie growled. “Ah, whatever. Get back to work, you two. And remember, if anyone asks about the food, mention Sofa’s. A lot.”
Theo gave her a thumbs-up. Gina nodded and trailed him back toward the kitchen, asking about this Xena person.
Sadie continued to watch the crowd, but as more drunken sailors, cops, robbers, and monsters continued to approach, asking about touching her sword and other body parts, she gradually left the open area. She found a shadowed area off to the side that afforded privacy as well as a tall table gone unnoticed by the masses. Perfect for her to set her plate and drink on while she ate and watched the party.
As far as costume parties went, Joaquin had scored. The dance floor remained packed, and the DJ was top-notch. Dance and dubstep vibes competed for most heavily populated track. The plethora of minibars meant no one had to wait long for a drink, and the amazing catering company—ahem—made sure to keep the tables fully stocked with goodies.
While continuing to snack on high-calorie goodness, Sadie felt no guilt whatsoever. Tonight was her night to enjoy fat foods and, with any luck, a talented boy toy for some mindless pleasure. She’d seen a bunch of contenders. Men with muscular builds engaging in guy behavior. Smack-talking with friends, checking out scantily clad women, and acting not all that bright.
Perfect.
Sadie didn’t want a date with Einstein. She wanted some quick nooky to end her dry spell. With any luck, she’d enjoy herself before kissing her nameless hookup goodbye. Maybe Elliot had been right to insist she attend.
“Hey, Xena. Be my Valentine.” A drunk guy smelling of BO, Axe body spray, and cheap beer leered close by.
Crap. She’d been found out. “Hey, um, what are you supposed to be?”
“Hercules.” He flexed, and she had to admit his arms impressed her. Too bad she’d have to hold her nose while praying she couldn’t taste his breath during a kiss. Gross.
“Nice to meet you, Hercules.” She took the hand he held out and tried to contain a grimace while he gave the back of it a sloppy kiss.
“Hey, pretty thing, you want to go fuck in the corner?” He nodded over her shoulder to the discreet alcove nearly hidden by a wall of potted bamboo behind her.
Though Sadie loved frank talk, the whole “let’s fuck in the corner” was a bit much even for her. Could she be that desperate? He smelled like Elliot’s dirty socks. As much as she wanted to be that kind of girl, the one who felt no guilt for a shameless hookup, she just couldn’t. Not with Hercules.
“Sorry. I’m waiting for a friend. And he already called dibs on the corner.”
“Well, shit. Can’t blame a guy for tryin’.” He stumbled back, gave her a salute that nearly had him tripping over his own feet, then turned and hit on the next woman he ran into.
Sadie sighed and returned to people watching, sipping from her cosmopolitan now and again. To her amusement, she spotted one hell of a hot devil getting accosted by a drunk and giggly genie very close to falling out of her bikini top. The devil wore a half mask hiding his face, a dark-red cape over broad shoulders, and black from head to toe. He held a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other as he tried to gently nudge the woman back, but her hands were everywhere.
Oh boy. Talk about grabby. He swore when lady fingers grabbed at what appeared to be a generous package.
Sadie felt for the guy, even as she had to laugh at his desperation. He had his hands full, for sure. It was like looking at a picture of herself as she’d stood on the dance floor. Minus the crotch grabbing, of course. She’d have skewered any jackass who tried. Devil glanced around, and she felt the heat of his gaze when it landed on her. Despite the half mask, which covered the upper half of his face, his stare penetrated.
His lips curled into a dark smile before he turned to the genie and said something.
She pouted, took a good look at Sadie, then flounced back into the crowd.
The devil took his time walking toward Sadie, now striding as if he owned the place.
She nodded at the vanished genie. “Problem?”
“Yeah. I’m not a fan of being molested while trying to save my food and beer. I mean, at least let me eat before you knock me down and mount me.” His voice sounded like gravel licked with fire.
She laughed. “You have a way with words.”
He stared at her, then slowly grinned. And man, the sight of that square jaw and those full lips grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go. “So I’ve been told.” He paused. “You mind if I share your table? I’m dying to sink into these crab thingies.”
This close, she could see that his eyes had been darkened by black makeup but were actually hazel in color. Wow. Talk about a handsome…devil. She chuckled aloud at her pun. “Why not? You earned it.”
His smile showed even, white teeth, but his eyes seemed serious, a bit mean despite his mirth. Underneath the humor, he had the menacing air down pat. Hmm. She mentally added him to her maybe-do list.
“What’s that look?” he asked.
“Are you a demon or a vampire? With that costume you could be either or a mix of both.”
He flashed fang-less teeth and shrugged huge shoulders. When he stood by her side, she realized he was half a head taller than her own five eleven. “I’ve been called worse, so I figured the devil was appropriate.” He stuffed a whole crab cake in his mouth and chewed, so she did the same, liking his style. “What about you? What’s with the Xena getup?”
“I’ve been told I clomp around and growl at people like a barbarian. Thought I’d run with that theme.”
He held up his beer for a toast. “Nice.”
She clinked his bottle with hers and took another sip. “So, Devil, why are you hiding and not trying to get lucky like half the bozos in here?”
“I could ask you the same.” He continued to eat, watching the crowd as much as he watched her.
“If you’d seen my last ‘suitor,’ you’d understand. For the record, body spray does not mix well with baked-in BO.”
He winced. “I smelled my share on the dance floor. Joaquin packed ’em tight tonight.”
“Yep.” She finished the snacks on her plate and downed her drink, wishing she’d grabbed more to eat.
“So how’d you get in here? You know Joaquin?”
She understood the question. It was a closed party.
“In a way. He’s a friend of a friend of my brother’s.” Gee, that sounded sad. Like she couldn’t get in unless dragged along with a sibling.
“Yeah, me too. A friend of a friend.”
The music’s tempo jolted the partyers to new heights of enthusiasm.
“Great DJ,” Devil said, his foot tapping to the beat.
She found herself doing the same. “No kidding.” She eyed the tiny corn dogs on his plate. He had half a dozen. She wondered if he’d miss one… “Hey, is that B-Man over there?” she asked.
When he turned his head, she stole an appetizer off his plate and shoved it in her mouth. Oh yeah, Elliot would be thrilled to see her display her “house manners” in public.
The devil turned back to her. “Not him.” He frowned at his plate, then at her full mouth. “Did you just steal my food?”
“Nope,” she answered around a mouthful.
He stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter. It was
a full-bodied laugh, holding nothing back. Charming and real. She put Devil at the top of her list.
She swallowed, wishing she had something more to drink. As he finished off his plate, he glanced at her clean one, then at her. When he sighed and handed her his beer, she took it gratefully.
“No backwash, I promise.” She opened her mouth to show him hers was clean, then downed half the bottle. “Damn, that was good.”
He blinked. “Ah, you want more?”
“No, no. You drink that. I’ll go get some.”
She moved to go, but he grabbed her arm. They both paused. Together, they glanced down at his large hand on her wrist, and he dropped her arm. “Ah, that’s okay. You stay here. I’ll get you something. Beer? More chow?”
She nodded. “Um, both, thanks. I’ll save your place.”
He left, and she watched his progress as he cut a swath through the crowd. Yes, the devil made his own path. This time, no one bothered him as he returned posthaste. To her surprise, she was glad. The guy smelled good, a hint of subtle cologne that went straight to her head. He had a kickin’ body and a great smile. But that air of Don’t fuck with me really turned her on—ah, made her amenable to his presence.
Talk about a wordy mouthful. At the thought, she found herself glancing down his body to see what else might be a mouthful.
Jesus, Sadie. Get your head out of the gutter, girl.
“You okay?” Temptation leaned closer. “You look a little flushed.”
“You can tell in this lighting?” she teased, trying to get it together.
“Good point.” He handed her a beer, placed his own down on the table, and then put a plate overloaded with goodies on top of their empties. “This is to share. To share,” he said slowly.
“Yeah, yeah. Man, I’m starved.” She fell on the plate as if the Russians were coming.
To her amusement, he fought with her for the cheese curls as much as for the mini egg rolls, and they devoured the snacks in good company.