63
CORA
“These are ‘your closest friends and family’?” I have to yell to be heard over the blaring music and the massive crowd stuffed into the club.
From the outside, The Coop looked like any other club. A neon marquee, blacked-out windows. There wasn’t a line at the door, which made sense considering the place was supposed to be closed for a private event. My private event.
Now, I see that there wasn’t a line because anyone who would possibly want to be here is already inside. It looks like Anya invited half the city.
She leans in and screams, the words still getting lost in the noise, “Only the people I trust are here. You’re safe. I promise.”
I’m less concerned about being murdered and more concerned about long-term hearing loss.
Music booms through speakers affixed to every corner of the room. I can feel the vibration in my feet. It rattles my bones.
When Anya mentioned the bachelorette party, I imagined sitting around a table with fancy drinks and shiny dresses and conversation. I wanted to catch up with Francia and Jorden in person, maybe get to know Anya a bit better.
But it might be hard to find a table here—considering women are dancing on most of them.
The table closest to us is holding two women in sky-high stilettos and barely-there dresses. They both blow a kiss in Anya’s direction and continue dancing, a gaggle of interested men thronging at their feet. One of the men notices Anya, too. He must not be a friend of Lev’s, because he’s staring at Anya like he wants to eat her.
Jorden shoves through the crowd. The colored lights flash on her pale skin and her teeth turn a vibrant shade of blue when she smiles. “I never would have guessed you’d have a club bachelorette party, Cora. This is amazing!”
“It is?”
She nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been cooped up for way too long. I need to let loose!”
“I’ve been cooped up, too,” Francia shouts. Her lip curls in disgust as she surveys the scene around us. “So coming to ‘The Coop’ is not how I pictured my first outing in a week.”
Francia and Jorden joined us for a pre-party dinner at Anya’s house. It was obvious by the look on both of their faces that they were shocked by the personal chef and the driver Anya sent to pick them both up. Apparently, their temporary lodgings aren’t quite as extravagant as mine.
“I forgot this whole arrangement meant you were living in a mansion.” Jorden elbowed me in the ribs after she arrived. “That’s why we haven’t heard from you. You’re too busy living the high life.”
“I’ve just been normal busy,” I mumbled.
Busy being fucked up, down, and sideways by my fake husband. But they didn’t need to know that. No matter how well it would sell our little game.
Francia stayed quiet. She stayed quiet most of the night.
Until now.
I reach for her arm, grounding myself in the crush of people. “I’m sorry. This is not what I had in mind. I thought it was going to be…intimate.”
Suddenly, an arm is around my shoulders. I turn around to find Yasha surveying the crowd. His hair looks white in the neon lights. “Get as drunk as you want, Cora. I’m the designated driver tonight.”
“No, you’re not,” Jorden says. “That old guy with the mustache is our driver.”
“Fine. I’m your designated…something that starts with a ‘D.’” He waves it away. “Doesn’t matter. Have fun.”
Jorden’s mouth curls into a flirty smile. “I won’t be able to focus now. I’ll spend all night wondering what the second D could stand for.”
Her eyes take an obvious dip below the belt and Yasha actually chuckles. Hook. Line. Sinker. He doesn’t even know how fast Jorden is reeling him in yet. Poor guy.
“She hasn’t even had a drink yet,” Francia grumbles to me.
The music is making my ears numb, Francia and Jorden are already at odds, and my head of security is going to spend most of the night fending off advances from people within my own party. And we haven’t even made it past the entryway.
“Let’s find the bar!” I yell, urging us all forward. “Let’s dive in and see where the night takes us.”
My enthusiasm wanes moments later when I’m trying to navigate through the herds of people. By the time I get to the bar, I’m sweaty and Yasha is the only one still with me. He stayed purposefully close; I suspect Ivan is responsible for that. But Francia and Jorden got lost in the crush.
“Do you see them?” I ask him.
“Jorden just put a dollar down the pants of a man who is definitely not a stripper.” There’s a tinge of jealousy in his voice. “And Francia snagged an open table. She’s under the projector ordering from a waitress.”
I should have gone with Francia. One glance behind the bar is all it takes to see that it is going to be a long wait for a drink. Besides, I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to drink here. Going to the bar was just the only thing I could think to do.
I tug on Yasha’s arm, tearing his eyes away from where Jorden is already busy making new friends. “Anya told me yesterday not to drink anything unless you’d checked it.”
“You should be safe here,” he promises. “Rooster and Legs know what’s going on and they told me they personally vouch for the safety of everything.”
I watch the bartender closest grab two bottles, twirl them, and then fill a line of shot glasses. In that same five-second span, another bartender next to her fills a beer and slides a pink mixed drink down the length of the countertop.
There are so many bottles and glasses and different drinks. Even if I start off paying close attention, I’ll lose my edge by the third or fourth drink. Besides, I have a feeling I should stay sober if I’m going to navigate the social waters I’m in tonight.
“I think I’ll be safe rather than sorry,” I tell him. “Maybe just a bottle of water?”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a plastic water bottle. “Have mine. I already tested it for you. Definitely not poisoned.” He grabs my shoulders and points me towards the table. “You go sit down. I’m going to go wrangle your friend before she gets herself into trouble.”
Jorden doesn’t look like she’s in trouble. She is somehow already toasting a round of shots with a group of people I’ve never laid eyes on before.
Ivan should have chosen her, I think.
He wouldn’t have to work so hard to make people believe he was into Jorden. She attracts people. It’s some kind of magnetism in her that draws everyone in.
I’ve never been good at that part—meeting people, staying in touch. I bounced around from my Dad’s house to shelters to my stepdad’s house to my shitty apartment… Needless to say, scraping and clawing to put food in my mouth and a roof over my head doesn’t leave a lot of time for me to make close friends.
It’s part of the reason I hold Francia and Jorden so close. They’re the closest things I’ve ever had to best friends.
Yasha sees me to the table and then dives back into the crowd after Jorden. Ivan would probably remind him that Jorden is not his priority, but I love that he’s taking good care of my friends, too. Even if his motives fall more in line with keeping Jorden away from other men than protecting her from harm.
I drop down next to Francia. “No drink?” she asks.
“The bar was way too busy.”
She eyes my water bottle and then turns back to the crowd. “I talked to a waitress and ordered everyone something.” If she’s trying to hide her grimace, she’s doing a terrible job.
Francia has always been a little… proper. Jorden would say stuck-up, but that’s because she didn’t know the girls I was a debutante with. I saw them shun lifelong friends because they wore the wrong kind of dress to a tea party.
Francia just knows what she likes and she’s honest about what she doesn’t. It’s a good quality in the right circumstances. Right now, though, it would be better if she had more of a poker face.
“I really am sorry about this,” I tell her again. “I know this isn’t your scene, but—”
She waves me off. “No, I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole. I’m like a cat, I think. Leave me in a room alone for long enough and I start to go feral. I forgot how to interact with other humans.”
“I’m sorry about that, too.”
“I haven’t been killed by one of Ivan’s crazed ex-girlfriends, so I count myself lucky.”
I blow out a breath. “He’s really doing everything he can to take care of me—of us. All of this. He’s trying to figure out who might be after me, and as soon as he does, you’ll be perfectly safe.”
Before she can say anything, a waitress returns with a tray of drinks that are miraculously upright. If I’d been forced to carry them through the dance floor, they would have ended up on the sticky floor.
Francia offers me the same pink drink I saw a woman at the bar drinking, but I wave it away. She leaves it in front of me just in case and takes one for herself.
“Is he worth all of this?” she asks. Her voice is almost quiet enough that I don’t hear her. “I don’t mean to pry. “I just mean, you could call off the engagement and be safe, right? Someone is only after you because they don’t want you marrying him. So if you don’t marry him…”
“Then there is still someone out there trying to manipulate him. If it isn’t me, it will be some other woman being attacked. I feel like I owe it to him to help him figure out who the threat is, at least.”
“How noble of you.” She gives me a teasing smile. “He seems to be taking great care of you. I can see why you would stay. I just wanted to make sure this is what you want.”
My heart clenches. Her words hit a spot far too close to home.
This is what I want.
Not the assassins and masks…but Ivan. Anya. Niles. Yasha.
These people who love in their own unique ways. Who care about and support each other. I’ve never had anything like it before.
“I want it.” I clear the sudden hoarseness from my throat. “He’s worth it. I’ve never felt so…cared for. So safe.”
“That’s nice.” She squeezes my hand once before she pulls her own back. “You have what we all want. Or…what I want, at least.”
Jorden told me she wanted a sugar daddy. Some rich man to lavish expensive gifts on her and take her away from her minimum wage days. Francia’s desires seem to run deeper than that. There’s a shadow looming over her I’ve never noticed before.
“What do you want?”
“Someone who wants to take care of me.” She shrugs. “My parents were always busy—working all hours of the day and night to scrape by. They did it for me, but they weren’t around. I was alone a lot. Then they sent me to a private school. They were trying to give me the best education they could, but I felt more alone than ever. Growing up rich-adjacent without actually being rich was…lonely.”
I can remember how isolated I felt at some of the parties my stepfather sent me to when I was a teenager. That’s where I learned that you can be lonelier in a crowd of people than you can when you’re all by yourself.
“I can relate to that.”
“I just want to fit,” she says. “I want to find a person who makes me feel like I’ve found my place. It seems like you’ve found that. I’m really happy for you.”
It’s strange to feel like we’re bonding while, at the same time, Francia doesn’t understand a single thing about what I’m going through right now.
I do feel like I’ve found my fit. It’s like Ivan and I are matching puzzle pieces. The trouble is…we’re in the wrong puzzle box. We go together, but nothing around us makes any sense.
I’m not sure it ever will.
Tears well in my eyes. I blink them back hurriedly, hoping Francia won’t notice.
“And in celebration of that fit…” Francia grabs one of the other drinks she ordered and holds it up to me. “A toast! For you and Ivan!”
I grab my water bottle, raise it in the air, and smile meekly. “To me and Ivan.”