Page 39 of No Lies No Promises

“Next round.” My smile could dazzle the sun. “Promise. I got this.”

Exuding confidence, shaken more than I’ll admit, I saunter away.

In my ear, Sean encourages me. “Take your time, babe. No hurry.”

A few minutes later, with my makeup refreshed, I exit the restroom, stop at the bar, and order two more IPAs.

As Pierre pops the caps, Dante says, “Do it.”

Just like we rehearsed, I drop a pill into the bottle on the right.

Now comes the hard part.

Smile wide, I sway my hips in my spandex mini dress while Jeff watches as if spellbound. Leaving center stage, I settle beside him.

“You have him by the short hairs, Lillian.” He slides his hand high up my thigh. “You’re in a unique position to help me.”

After guiding his fingers to my knee, I lift my beer. “To new beginnings.”

I gulp it down. Like any guy trying to impress a woman, he does the same.

“Can you believe…” A most unladylike burp erupts from me. “Excuse me… Sean had the nerve to be jealous? He’s the one playing around!”

Not giving him a chance to respond, I keep going. “So last weekend we were driving home, and this crazy bitch tried to run us off the road. When her first tactic didn’t work, she blew herself up and almost took us out with her. Sean said he never saw her before in his life, but I’m certain he did.”

“How so?”

And the fish takes the bait.

“She mentioned demonical holiday balls. Mine and Sean’s stupid little joke. Our moment. Not hers.”

He snickers. “Don’t you mean nondenominational holiday balls?”

My breath catches.

Got him.

I hope the guys caught it, too, but something, either in my face or body language, must give me away.

Expression hard, all pretenses gone, Jeff lifts a closed fist, a hypodermic needle glinting between his fingers. “Whatever you think you’ve learned, you haven’t.”

As I start to rise, he drives it into my thigh. This sharp, white-hot sting blooms on impact. As liquid poison spreads, I’d run or scream, but my body won’t obey, not even when Pearson slips his arm around my waist. Neck lolling, I’m no more than a rag doll he can guide across the patio, through the gate.

Shoes. Cracks in the sidewalk. Stains. Gum. Everything blurs.

As I’m about to puke my guts out, Sean says, “Babe. So glad I found you.”

Is he here-here or in my comms?

“Poor dear. She’s had too much to drink,” Ruthie says, or maybe I’m dreaming.

While I try to decide, Rebecca tips up my chin. “Jesus, how many did you have, sis?”

I try to respond, but it’s almost impossible with Jeff’s fingertips digging into my ribs. “I’m taking her home.”

“Don’t say anything,” Dante says in my ear. “Let Sean handle it.”

Say anything? As if I could.