Bat Out of Hell

by Bernadette Franklin

  My friend flipped me the bird and stuck her tongue out.

  I worried I wouldn’t escape the party with my sanity intact. In what world were lechers safer than fashion designers?

  Mine.

  Damn. I needed a new life before my current one got tired of my shit and finished me off.

  Chapter Three

  Clarissa’s mother saved me from a fate worse than death. The instant Juliette Carter released my ankles, I fled. To keep the fashion designer from latching onto me, I did the only sane thing I could do under the circumstances: I abandoned the first party and tested my luck in the hallway. Other partygoers had opted for the hallway party, too, transforming the place into a maze of people dressed in absurd outfits.

  I’d never thought my crystal belt and Prada witch’s dress would be the most normal outfit. Vampires were common, as were werewolves. The Tarzan trend annoyed me, and I came to the conclusion that the men dressed as Tarzan were single lechers hoping to have their loincloths removed.

  Ugh.

  How the hell was I supposed to find a decent man not at high risk of being a lecher? David had seemed decent enough, but he classified as one of the men looking for some late-evening action. He’d taken the dive into the fray of single ladies and enjoyed their attention. Players went onto my ‘hell no’ list, and he showed most symptoms of a chronic player.

  Maybe I could slip out of the party, get a cab, and head home. I’d miss the money later, but I expected the public transit system would be the end of me if I attempted to make my way home on my own.

  “Hey, babe. Nice dress, but you’d look better out of it,” one of the many Tarzans said, sidling up to me.

  As I had no interest in being subjected to his offerings, I didn’t even turn my head in his direction. “No, thanks.”

  “Come on, baby. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

  What was it with rich men and their egos? Why couldn’t they buy a personality and dignity with their money? Damn it, I’d been at the party for less than an hour, and I already needed a gentleman willing to deal with me and play dumb while I used him as an escape route.

  Even David would do, as a player beat a man who didn’t understand the meaning of the word no.

  “Not interested.”

  “You’ll like it.”

  I wanted to ram my knee into his groin and give a good twist while I was at it, but his money would make my assault of his delicate, fragile self stick, and I didn’t want to spend half my life in jail for giving an asshole a reason to leave me alone. The hallway party had plenty of men, and few wore rings or strings.

  If I eliminated all the Tarzans, I had some vampires, a werewolf, and someone around my age dressed in a suit. I had no idea if the suit was a costume or not, but I’d take him home to meet Mom on appearances alone. A quick check of his left finger revealed he wasn’t claimed.

  My ploy probably wouldn’t work, but I marched over in his direction.

  “Hey! I wasn’t done talking to you.”

  Damned egotistical bastard. In good news, his outcry caught attention, including the brown-haired man I’d chosen as my escape route. The vampire accompanying him raised a brow, and I recognized one of Clarissa’s brothers.

  I really needed a new life. My current one really hated me and wished for me to die. Sighing, I beelined for Jonas. “Is your friend the kind your mother would let Clarissa date?”

  “Unfortunately for my peace of mind, yes,” Clarissa’s brother replied. “You have an attachment.”

  “Unwanted.” I stared Jonas’s friend in the eye. “Please help get rid of him. I’m paying in a kiss, but that’s all you’re getting out of me unless it’s a friendly coffee date.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t say I’ve ever been part of such a rescue mission before, but I’m happy to oblige. I’ll skip the cheesy pickup lines since you’ve offered the invitation, if you please.”

  Damn. I’d found a man who came prepackaged with the word please. “I do please, actually. Thank you.”

  I’d played the kissing game enough times to hold my ground, and my partner of choice wasted no time going in for the kill. His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me close while his lips went after my self-respect first and scored a knock-out. Unsatisfied with that, he went for gold and hit it right out of the park. If we’d been at a baseball game, the ball would’ve been long gone, likely out on the street beyond the stands and the parking lot.

  Hot damn. He needed a warning label to prevent unsuspecting women like me from playing with fire. He stopped before he crossed the line to indecent, pulled away, and smirked. His attention settled on my unwanted attachment. “The next time a lady tells you no, it doesn’t mean ask until she says otherwise.”

  While keeping one arm wrapped around me, he pointed down the hall. “I just thought you’d like to know your boss is over there and saw the whole thing.”

  Tarzan turned a rather unpleasant shade of green, and he spun around and fled.

  “Well, that was a most unexpected but enjoyable twist to my evening. Jonas, I trust you’ll keep the lady company? If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss my meeting. Mind serving as the go-between on our coffee date since you two know each other?”

  “Sure thing. Drive safely. It’s a madhouse out there.”

  I admired the view when he left. “Do I want to know who he is, Jonas?”

  “He owns the penthouse hosting the third party. Does that answer your question?”

  “It really does. Now I’m really glad I asked before just randomly kissing him. That was my other option. I was starting to get desperate. I figured he couldn’t be too bad if he were hanging out with you.”

  “That’s a really low bar. I just thought you should know that.”

  “Better than that lowlife Tarzan incapable of understanding English.”

  “As my mother will literally murder me if someone does anything to you tonight, care to have a tour of the third party? If my esteemed opinion doesn’t ensure that you don’t want to know who he is, his penthouse will.”

  “It beats just standing in the hallway waiting for another lecher to try his luck.”

  “Why are you in the hallway, anyway? Mom was determined to ghost you all night long.”

  “She’s fighting with a fashion designer last I checked. I have angered the fashion designer, and she claims she will be seeking revenge. I’m concerned, as she now knows which state I live in.”

  “Juliette?”

  I laughed. “How did you guess?”

  “There’s only one designer here who would openly seek revenge against someone, and it’s her. What did you do?”

  I gestured to my dress. “It used to be a Prada. Now it’s a witch’s costume. Apparently, it’s a perfect Prada.”

  “I’m not sure I can protect you from Juliette, but I’ll try. Mom will be proud of me for a change. I’ll play your date, but you’re not getting a red string out of me. I value my life.” Jonas held out his arm. “Plus, I get to tell my sister my costume was being your date rather than a vampire.”

  I linked my arm with his. “Sounds like a plan. I like you, but you’re not dating material, Jonas.”

  “You may not be from money, but you make our standards look low. And that’s not a bad thing. That’s why Mom likes you so much. You haven’t gotten anywhere, but you haven’t settled, and she loves you for it. She also loves Other Mom’s cooking.”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t date you even if I liked you. You’re too much like a brother at this point, and that’s gross.”

  “On that, we’re agreed. Also, thank you for not being born a man, Lee. It would be awkward.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m that gay friend you never knew was gay, and I’d have to fight my sister over you. As I said, awkward.”

  Damn. “Cool. Do you do hair?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “I need a cut and I’m too cheap to go to a salon. What does a girl have to do to get you to fix this dis
aster?”

  “I’ll swing by tomorrow. I have the day off work. That work for you?”

  “You can dye it whatever color you want, too. You could even perm it. I don’t care, just make me look pretty for a change. The boutique has decided to ‘welcome all hairstyles and colors to allow our store to be more in line with modern trends.’ Actually, I just want a really good disguise, so the fashion designer doesn’t find me. Don’t remind that guy about the coffee date, by the way. He’s probably one of New York’s Most Eligible Bachelors, and I just can’t handle that level of responsibility.”

  Jonas led me down the hall, turned the corner, and kept walking until we reached the end. “So, about this building. There are four penthouses. His is the largest of them and has the best view. While he opened his penthouse for the party, he has a security detail on hand. It’s very much look and don’t touch. I’m on the list to have full access to the penthouse, so if you want to escape the mayhem, we can go into his private entertainment room and play some console games. Also, there are two levels, and you probably don’t want to know how much it cost.”

  “Trust fund?”

  “Inheritance from a relative, good business sense, and the inability to keep from working,” Jonas replied. “For a workaholic, he’s a good person. He doesn’t have time for a girlfriend or a wife. He might even ask about that date. It’s been a while since he’s had an excuse to go out with someone as friends, and that is how you framed it. Honestly, he probably played along because you set the stage as a friendship with a kiss rather than wanting in his pants.”

  I definitely wanted in his pants, but as I didn’t jump into bed with random men without a damned good reason or an engagement ring, I’d have to daydream about him in his perfect suit. I’d learned my lesson after a few bad men, and nobody was getting an easy ticket for a night of fun out of me anymore. “Hey, that’s pretty impressive. I didn’t completely screw it up.”

  “It’s okay. I would’ve rescued you even if he hadn’t gone with it. That guy you dodged is an asshole.”

  “More of an asshole than you are?”

  Jonas laughed. “Sweetheart, while I’m at least a princely asshole, he’s a crowned ruler of assholes. He’s got six kids because he doesn’t like when a woman tells him he has to wear a condom. I would’ve hated to have had to introduce him to my knuckles for trying to pull that shit on you.”

  “Damn. That’s awful.”

  “So is his child support bill. You’d figure he’d learn, but no. Turns out the bastard’s a shitty asshole, but he’s a great dad. The only thing he loves more than screwing women are his kids. If it weren’t for that, I would’ve hit him for even looking at you.”

  I would never understand people. “Please tell me his kids aren’t here.”

  “Nah. As I said, he’s a shitty human being unless his kids are involved, then he’s the perfect example for all dads to follow. I don’t get it, and I doubt I ever will, but that’s all right. Oh, Lee?”

  “What?”

  “Do me a favor.”

  “What do you need?”

  “When we go into my friend’s penthouse, please don’t scream.”

  What had I gotten myself into?

  Women screamed for many reasons. Some screamed when they saw the perfect pair of shoes. Others screamed if a spider crossed their path. I screamed if winged assassins with butt knives tried to sting me.

  Hospital visits sucked, as did slowly suffocating to death. I appreciated the slowly part of the equation; I didn’t need to carry an allergy pen with me as long as I sought out medical attention within an hour. At that point, my body gave up hope. Popping allergy pills helped, but ultimately, I needed to cart my ass to the nearest doctor if I wanted to stay reasonably safe.

  Not even Clarissa knew the real reason behind my screams when a winged assassin with a butt knife crossed my path.

  I hoped to keep it that way.

  A Leonardo da Vinci drawing decorated the entry, and a pair of security guards kept the curious from getting too close to it. It rendered me speechless, and had it been unguarded, I would’ve spent hours lovingly stroking its frame.

  Everyone in Clarissa’s family knew my dirty little secret, my crush on old sketches that embraced the unfinished beauty of life.

  In many ways, I viewed myself as a sketch, an unfinished piece lacking color. I wanted to be beautiful, too, like the profile sketch of a woman’s face, the hint of a smile on her lips.

  Her eyes kept secrets, and I could lose hours attempting to decipher them.

  There was only one thing I could say. “Can the coffee date involve sitting on the floor underneath that picture and staring at it for hours?”

  “I’m going to do you a favor and not tell him you have a crush on his sketch.”

  “How is that doing me a favor?”

  “It’s his prized possession.”

  Damn it. I’d found the perfect rich man, and he didn’t have time for a woman. Still, I could dream. “Then a coffee date sitting beneath it would be perfect. Just look at it, Jonas. It’s a masterpiece.”

  “It’s a barely finished drawing.”

  “That’s what makes it a masterpiece.” I huffed at Jonas’s lack of refined taste in art. “You will be pleased to learn I wouldn’t scream over just seeing a painting. I wouldn’t even scream if he offered to let me take it home.”

  “You wouldn’t? What would you do?”

  “Cry or faint,” I admitted. “That sketch is worth more than I am.”

  “I disagree.”

  “I don’t. I understand that sketch’s worth.”

  Jonas rolled his eyes and pointed at one of two hallways branching off the foyer. “You’re worth more than some dumb sketch.”

  Somehow, revealing his interest in other men had done Jonas a world of good. Any other day, he would’ve just laughed at me. “You being nice is seriously starting to creep me out, I just thought you should know this.”

  “Being a prince of assholes is hard work, so I’m on vacation right now. You’re going to have to deal with the kind and considerate version, although I will deny any and all accusations should you attempt to tell anyone I can be a kind and considerate being.”

  If Jonas brought out his kind and considerate version, I could understand why the penthouse’s owner stayed friends with him. The penthouse belonged to someone with good taste and more money than possibly god. While I didn’t recognize many of the painters, his walls showcased fine art, the kind bought for millions at auction. I wanted to spend the rest of my life, or a minimum of several weeks, examining each painting. “He collects art.”

  “It is his vice and passion. He’d rather work ten or more hours a day to come home and spend the rest of his day staring at paintings on the wall than having a life. Since he doesn’t have a woman to waste his money on, he can spend it on anything he likes.”

  I saw no problems with the man’s life choices. I’d be forever curious about how he’d learned to be such a damned fine kisser, though. Then again, if he didn’t have time for women, maybe he took lessons from the local street ladies. That would put a damper on my day, as the last thing I needed was a bill to be tested for anything I might’ve picked up from kissing a promiscuous male. I’d hope for natural talent. Natural talent wouldn’t create any long-term trouble for me. “And?”

  “And what?”

  Pointing at the nearest painting, depicting flowers in a vase, I glared at Clarissa’s brother.

  “They’re daisies, I think. And?”

  “Life doesn’t have to be about going out after work and dealing with assholes. The art seems healthier, anyway. There are a lot of assholes in the world.”

  “While I’m not disputing the population of the kingdom I’m in line to rule, I don’t feel that you understand the severity of his introverted behavior.”

  “Jonas.”

  “What?”

  “I’m an introvert. Your sister is an extrovert. Do you know what extroverts do to introv
erts?”

  “I’m afraid to ask, but I’m going to ask anyway. What do extroverts do to introverts?”

  “Adopt them and force them to leave their homes.”

  Jonas snorted. “He doesn’t make a good introvert except when he’s not working, which is not often.”

  “Well, after working so hard, I wouldn’t want to deal with people, either.”

  “I feel this is an important time to remind you that you work in retail, Lee.”

  I sighed. “I never claimed I made good life choices. It just happens to be the one job I’m good at. I can’t afford college, not that it would do me any good. I’m good at selling clothes. I’m bad at going to school. I’m useless at school, really. Lectures make me want to stab people, I don’t write notes fast enough, and I can’t remember what was said after five minutes if I don’t write it down. Now, if they could just give me a damned book and ask me to read it, I would be okay. But for some reason, colleges expect to lecture students. You should be proud of me for refusing to waste money on an education I’d flunk out of due to an inability to handle lectures.”

  “It can’t possibly be that bad.”

  “It can possibly be that bad. I didn’t go to college because my grades in high school are a horror show. I wouldn’t earn financial aid, as I couldn’t keep my damned head any higher than C level.”

  “At least a C counts as a passing grade.”

  “Barely.” I bowed my head. “They don’t care about your grades in retail. They care about your ability to kiss ass. Does the person in the store make good money and want to buy clothes? Kiss ass. Don’t tell the lady looking at the black slinky cocktail dress she’ll look like an undead raven. That is how you get fired from retail.”

  “I’m going to guess one of your co-workers did that?”

  “Yes, she did. You’re a professional liar in retail, Jonas. You tell the customer what they want to hear and hope for the best. If you get a unicorn, they should be worshipped.”

  “Dare I ask what a unicorn is?”