by Gemma James
“Hey!” a woman shouted as she stumbled in with a crash. “You fucked up my shoe. Sorry ain’t gonna cut it.”
I froze, recognizing Christie’s reflection despite the mask she hid behind. It wasn’t easy to forget the woman who blamed me for a lifetime of resentment. Out of all the toes I could have crushed, they would have to be hers.
Christie’s dark eyes widened. “Why haven’t you slithered back to your hole yet?”
I straightened my spine and turned to confront her glare. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”
She smirked. “You don’t belong here. Everyone knows it.” Her gaze traveled to my toes and back up again. “Dressing like me. Trying to be me.” She tsked-tsked. “So pathetic.”
“This isn’t about you.” I paused, trying to think of a way to make her understand. “I had no idea when I came here. I didn’t know.”
Christie’s face twisted, and her hands bunched into fists. “He wasn’t your father!”
“According to the whole damn town he was.” I clamped my mouth shut before I could say more and went to move past her. Last thing I needed was another argument with Christie Beckmeyer. Who would’ve thought I’d discover a sister . . . just to have her hate me?
She blocked my exit at the last second. “Your mom’s a slut. My dad wasn’t the only guy she screwed.”
“Get out of my way,” I said through clenched teeth, “unless one ruined shoe isn’t enough for you.” Just because I wasn’t speaking to my mom didn’t mean I’d let anyone else badmouth her. Christie must have seen something dangerous in my eyes because she stepped to the side and let me pass. I resisted the urge to throw something as I shoved through the crowd.
“There you are!” Six materialized in front of me, and something blue sloshed over the rim of her cup. “Why’d you take off your mask?” She shoved her drink into my hands before refastening the mask over my eyes. “Makes you mysterious. Now, bottoms up. You don’t look like you’re havin’ fun.”
“Six, I’m not really in the mood—”
“Oh, noooo you don’t. You need a drink. Loosen up already.” She bounced away and gestured for me to follow. “C’mon! There’s someone I want you to meet.”
My eyes wandered to the bathroom entrance, where Christie stood drilling me with her glacial stare. Wonderful. I gulped down the alcohol and hurried after Six. “Who? Haven’t I met enough people tonight?”
“Darn, he disappeared,” she said as she coaxed me into the center of twisting bodies. “But let me tell you, this guy is hot. And he’s a newbie in town like you. Fresh meat.”
We began dancing, or more accurately, Six danced. I two-stepped with the finesse of a Ping-Pong ball. “I’m not interested in dating,” I hollered above the music.
“I never said a word about dating.” She tossed me a glow-in-the-dark bracelet. Several people wore them—there were neon bursts of color bouncing all over the place. “You know what you need?”
I was afraid to ask. “What?”
“A hot and sweaty romp in the sack. No strings, no expectations . . .” She paused long enough to wiggle her eyebrows. “Just a little wrestling between the sheets. It’s good exercise.”
I needed that about as much as a tax audit, but I laughed despite myself. “You’re horrible!” The alcohol infiltrated my bloodstream with amazing speed. I couldn’t say how long we danced. Three songs? Four? Ten? By the time she pulled me to a less crowded corner of the bar, I’d gulped down another drink and my ability to walk straight worsened by ten degrees.
“What was in that stuff?” I asked her.
“What stuff?”
“The blue crap you gave me!”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she stated with a laugh. “There’s a reason they named it Adiós Mother fuck—”
“Okay,” I interrupted, “I get the idea.” The ceiling suddenly whirled in a nauseating spin. “Oh, shit. Be right back.” I covered my mouth and pushed through the crowd, making a beeline for the restroom. In my haste to escape inside, I tripped over a boot. Two strong arms reached out and grabbed me, and how did I thank my rescuer?
I barfed down the front of his brown leather jacket.
“Oh God, I am so sorry!” I raised my eyes, initially surprised he wasn’t wearing a mask like everyone else, and then I gaped at him. His familiar mahogany eyes stared back, and the Earth halted, crashed into Jupiter for all I knew. In that moment nothing else existed.
I must be dreaming.
To test the theory, I dug my fingernails into my arm. Okay, not dreaming, but something wasn’t right. The blue drink from hell must produce hallucinations because the guy I’d dreamed about for years had his arms around me, and I was very much awake.
“Don’t worry about it.” He glanced down at his soiled jacket and winced. “I’ll live.”
I opened my mouth and willed a word out—any word—but couldn’t find my voice.
He lowered his arms and stepped back, watching me carefully as if he believed I might crumble to the floor. “You okay?”
“I’m okay,” I mumbled. Not okay. Not okay at all. I’ve finally succumbed to insanity.
His gaze fell to his jacket again. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna grab some paper towels.”
As soon as he disappeared into the men’s restroom, I bolted.
Find EPIPHANY on Goodreads and download a three-chapter excerpt:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17704279-epiphany
Gemma James writes dark erotica, drinks too much caffeine, and stays up too late. She's morbidly curious about anything dark and edgy, whether it be serial killers or BDSM. Erotica is a new venture for her, and she's looking forward to exploring the deviant side of human nature, the contrast of pleasure and pain. Find Gemma online on her blog, Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads:
Blog: http://authorgemmajames.blogspot.com/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorgemmajames
Twitter: www.twitter.com/gemmajames85
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6644836.Gemma_James
