by Linde, K. A.
Sam could leave me. He could go back to being with her. Perfect little Claire and her perfect fucking violin and her nice, normal family that surely didn’t barge into his life and insult him.
He might have said that I was out of his league. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe perception and reality were too far skewed. And he’d want someone like Claire again. He hadn’t been the one to break it off after all. He spent weeks mourning her departure and not even told me. Hadn’t wanted to tell me.
I felt actually sick, thinking of all of this. But my brain wouldn’t shut up. It just repeated history and all my darkest fears. Like a broken record, hitting those highlights by scraping across my memories with a needle.
The cab dropped me off in front of what looked like a nondescript office building. I’d never been here before. The street was quiet and empty. Not exactly the place I’d expect a party.
Still, I followed the instructions on the invitation and knocked on the door.
“Invitation?” the man asked when he answered.
I held it out to him. He took it, slipped it into his pocket, and gestured for me to walk down the hallway.
“Last door at the end of the hallway.”
“Thanks,” I said with a growing sense of unease.
Was this supposed to be like a speakeasy? That didn’t seem Thomas’s style.
I was regretting coming here. Alone. What if I ran into Thomas again? With my emotions all roiled up inside of me, I didn’t put it past myself to give him a taste of the Lark I had been and cut him off at the balls.
With a deep breath, I pulled open the door at the end of the hallway, and my jaw dropped. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting. A few card tables and a tiny, smoky room, but this was something else. This was established. It certainly wasn’t a few tables that he’d thrown together to get this party going. He had been doing this for a while. There were, at quick glance, at least a dozen poker tables. I could see roulette, craps, blackjack, and even a few slot machines against a wall. Music was playing from hidden speakers with a group of girls in micro minidresses dancing at the center. Platforms had been erected between some of the tables, and girls in bras and thongs were dancing atop them.
This wasn’t some little poker game he’d put together. This was a full-blown casino in the middle of Manhattan. That I’d never, ever heard about.
My gaze slipped around the room. I found Court at one of the poker tables. Camden was standing nearby with Fiona fluttering her eyelashes up at him. He seemed indifferent to her presence. I found Katherine next, not exactly against a wall—she’d never deign to look like a wallflower—but just far enough apart to make it look purposeful. I didn’t see Gavin or Whitley anywhere.
Or Thomas for that matter. Which was just fine by me.
I strode across the room to where Katherine casually sipped champagne. As if her husband wasn’t standing nearby with another woman.
“You made it,” Katherine said when I appeared before her.
“Barely.”
Katherine tilted her head. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Who do you think I am? I’ve known you your entire life. I can see when something is wrong with you. You’ve lost your glow.” She inhaled sharply, her eyes narrowing. “Did Sam hurt you?”
God, Katherine was too intuitive for her own good sometimes.
“Yeah. Well, no. I don’t know. His ex-girlfriend was waiting for him in his apartment when we showed up. And he decided to stay and talk to her. Told me to go on without him. That he’d be here soon and text me.”
Katherine wrinkled her nose. “Text you? After he sent you away?”
I couldn’t explain the other part to Katherine. She’d never once grappled with her Upper East Side self. This was just who she was. Take it or leave it.
She’d encourage me to just let go. Find a balance between the two. Or better yet, just let Bad Lark take over for a while and see how much better it could be. How much less I’d have to try. Except that wasn’t what I wanted. Right?
“Yeah. And she was blubbering and telling him she still loved him.”
“And you didn’t break her fucking neck for the audacity?” she asked acidly.
“That’s rich, Ren.” I gestured to her husband.
“That is different,” she said icily. “And you know it. Camden and I were arranged. You and Sam chose each other.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have made the comparison. I’m sure Fiona makes you want to rake your nails down her face.”
“I’ve considered it,” she said with a small frown before the emotion disappeared. “But it wouldn’t be worth the satisfaction it would give him.”
“We’re both so fucked.”
Despite myself, I checked my phone one more time. Waited for that text message from Sam. But nothing was there. Just as empty as before.
Katherine placed her palm against my phone. “Stop looking for him. It’ll only make you more stressed.”
“Yeah,” I said, stuffing it back into my purse.
But when I looked back up, I saw the very last person I wanted to see right now. Well, perhaps Thomas was actually the second after Claire this particular night. Not that I wanted him beelining for me either.
“Oh no,” I murmured.
Katherine looked up and narrowed her eyes. “I can handle Thomas.”
“Hello, ladies,” Thomas said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Enjoying the party?”
“It’s something,” Katherine said, taking another sip of her champagne.
That clearly wasn’t what Thomas had wanted to hear. His nostrils flared at her dismissal.
“And you, Lark? Where’s that boyfriend of yours?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Katherine interjected smoothly.
“I heard he liked to play poker. I figured you’d be together,” he said, baring his teeth in an imitation of a smile.
Something rose up in me. All that anger that I’d wanted to spew on Claire hit me fresh. And I couldn’t stand that slimy grin on his face another second.
I took a step past Katherine’s indifference and right into my Upper East Side persona.
“I don’t care one iota that you expected Sam to be here with me. All I care about,” I said crisply, evenly, “is that you get the fuck out of my presence. I’m here to hang out with my friends. And you are not one of them. You haven’t been one of them since you started stuffing your dick in every girl on Tinder just because you could get away with it. I’m glad to be rid of your unremarkable dick, and I don’t need you crowding around me. Unless you want this little operation brought up to my parents, I suggest you move along.”
Thomas sputtered in shock at my outburst. Even all these years later, I’d never stood up to him. I’d cried and grieved and mourned the loss of a bullshit relationship. I’d put Bad Lark to rest, and I’d gotten walked all over. But I was done letting some dickwad wannabe take up any more of my time or energy.
Katherine just burst into laughter—real laughter. She fluttered her fingers at him. “You heard her. Be gone, snake.”
And to my amazement, Thomas actually turned tail and hurried away from us.
Katherine turned to me and wrapped me in a quick hug. “That was the best Larkin St. Vincent I’ve seen in years. Where have you been hiding her?”
“Apparently, I just needed to come to terms with both sides of who I am. I’m still Upper East Side, right?”
“Always,” she agreed. She snapped her fingers at a passing waiter. She plucked two fresh glasses of champagne off of the tray. “Keep them coming.” The man nodded and fell back into the crowd. Katherine handed me a glass and then held hers aloft. “I propose a toast. To Lark, the Upper East Side, and how we stop putting up with men who ruin the entire fucking world.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
I clinked my glass against hers, and then we both tipped back our champagne. And even though my insides were s
quirming as I wondered what exactly was happening with Sam and Claire back at his apartment in Brooklyn, I felt like a new me.
Lark 3.0.
Not all good. Not all bad. Just me.
33
Lark
Two hours later, and I still hadn’t heard from Sam.
Not a call. Not a text. And he damn sure hadn’t shown up to Thomas’s party. Not that he could have even gotten in without the fucking invitation that I had. But he would have had to call me for that. And he hadn’t done that. Which meant…he was still at his place…with Claire.
I didn’t know what the fuck they needed to talk about for two hours, but I was drunk and murderous. Half-ready to catch a cab and drive back over there to demand answers. But I knew that I wouldn’t do it. Even though I’d unleashed something within myself, I wasn’t ready to go that far. He’d said he’d text. Until he did, I’d get drunk as a skunk and let my anger simmer.
“Can’t we just go dance?” Whitley asked, holding out her whiskey. “You both need to let loose a little more.”
“You can go dance,” Katherine said. “You’ve been dancing all night. Why would you need us?”
“It’s more fun with my friends.”
“You make friends everywhere,” I reminded her.
“Well, yeah…but you two are the hottest.”
“Obviously,” Katherine said with a quirk of her lips.
“And I’m pretty sure Gavin already left with that brunette chick.” She pushed her currently blonde-highlighted hair off her shoulders.
“Are you jealous?” Katherine asked evenly.
“Of what?”
“Gavin being with someone else?” I added.
Whitley snorted. “No. Why would I be?”
“Because you like him,” Katherine said.
“You have it all wrong. Gavin King and I are oil and water. We don’t mix. We just have a lot of fun dancing and drinking. He’s a good wingman.”
“Please.” Katherine rolled her eyes.
“I’ll admit, he’s good to look at,” Whitley said with a shrug. “But there are so, so many more men and women who are pretty to look at.”
“If you say so,” I said with a smirk.
“Whatever. So…you won’t go dance with me?”
“I think we’re good here,” I told her.
Katherine’s attention suddenly shifted, and I saw immediately why. Fiona hadn’t left Camden’s side all night. She’d been hanging on to him for dear life. He was mostly ambivalent about her presence. As if she were more prop than person.
But now, he was walking away from the table that he’d been playing poker at and leaving Fiona behind. He was coming straight toward us.
Whitley and I fell silent, waiting for the incoming bomb to explode.
“Hello, Camden,” Katherine said evenly. As if she were hardly interested in his presence.
But he brushed right past her indifference and took her arm. “We need to grab Court and get you home and safe.”
Her eyes rounded only slightly. “Home? You want me to leave?”
“No, you’re coming with me. Where you belong.”
We all gaped at him. Ever since the party, they’d been living apart. As far as I knew…they weren’t even speaking, except at public events where they would be photographed together. Their secret was out about the arranged marriage and his mistress. So, they kept up appearances to a certain extent. But this was altogether different.
“I don’t understand,” Katherine said softly. Honest confusion in her voice.
“I just got a tip from a detective that I know. He said that if I was at this party, then I needed to get out now,” Camden said. “This place is about to blow up.”
I gasped. “A raid?”
He nodded once, not taking his eyes from Katherine’s face. “I need to get you out of here.”
I could see everything roil through her. He was worried about her. About Katherine and not Fiona. Was this a gimmick? Or real?
We didn’t have time to worry about it. If a police raid was about to hit the party, we needed to get the hell out of here.
“I’m going to get Court,” I gasped.
Fuck, English was going to kill me. This wasn’t supposed to happen while she was a thousand miles across the ocean.
I dashed into the crowd, heading toward the table where Court had planted his ass in front of the entire night. He had a sizable number of chips in front of him. He was not going to like having to move. I could already tell that he was drunk. Just by the set of his shoulders. Sometimes, he was so like Penn that it was scary.
“Court, we have to go,” I said, grabbing his arm.
He didn’t even glance at me. He just brushed me aside with the grin of someone who was beating the odds. “Can’t leave. I’m on a roll.”
“Camden said now,” I growled. “Right now.”
“Camden can fucking shove it,” he said with a lackadaisical attitude.
I got right up in his face, obscuring his view of the cards. “Now, Court.”
“Lark, what’s the big fucking deal?”
I leaned in, speaking softly into his ear, “Camden got a tip that the place is about to be raided. We need to get you out of here now, or we might all get arrested.”
Court reeled back, losing some of his cool. “Fuck. Can I cash my chips in?”
I shook my head, glancing uneasily over my shoulder. I grabbed his arm again and tried to all but drag him out of his seat. “Come on.”
“Fine, fine.” He lovingly stared down at the chips. “I’m out, boys. Duty calls. Free-for-all on my chips.”
The guys laughed, clearly thinking I was dragging him away for nefarious purposes, but I couldn’t even care. We needed to go. The last thing that could happen was Court Kensington getting arrested. It would spell defeat for Leslie and the campaign and me and English…and everything I’d been working toward. I felt suddenly very sober at the prospect.
As soon as Court and I were away from the table, Camden began to lead Katherine and Whitley away. I followed him, guiding an incredibly, stupidly drunk Court toward them. They must have been pumping him full of alcohol for him to barely be able to keep his feet under him. I didn’t know how he’d been fucking winning while he was this intoxicated. Unless the game was stacked in his favor to get him to keep coming back. That sounded like something Thomas would do. Get the big dogs to win a lot on their first night and then start clearing them out.
I shook my head. I’d probably never know. And right now, I had bigger things to deal with.
“Where are we going?” I asked when I finally caught up to the others.
“Camden knows a back way out,” Katherine said.
“How?”
Katherine shrugged one shoulder. “He’s Camden Percy.”
Yeah, that was answer enough, I supposed.
I felt chased by an invisible force. As if, at any moment, the police would burst in through all of the doors and put handcuffs on us. Everything would go down in flames. My stomach was in knots, the buzz I’d had vanished, and I just half-dragged, half-hustled Court toward the alternate exit that Camden was leading us toward.
No one stopped us. No one asked why we were all leaving, where we were all going in the first place. And still, anxiety warred through me.
The anticipation kicking into overdrive.
This wasn’t who I was. Not anymore.
I’d done enough in high school to warrant running away from the cops. We’d snuck out and gotten drunk and high and skinny-dipped and on and on. Enough that was horrible. Enough that was just stupid. I hadn’t missed this feeling. Like I was in a free fall, and soon enough, I would get caught.
Wasn’t this half the reason I’d given up Bad Lark before? I might have come to terms with her today when I was taking down Thomas, but I didn’t want this to be my life. I didn’t want that anxiety of wondering if…when I was going to get caught. It had poisoned my relationship with Sam the first time around. I didn’t
want to do it again. And yet, he was doing enough bad all on his own.
I’d been so happy since we’d been together. Jumped the gun and used the L-word, even asked him to move in with me. Stupid.
I should have expected the worst. Should have thought the bottom would fall out. Like it always did.
Because I was the girl who was out of everyone’s league. Who could ever leave me? Except everyone.
Fuck.
My fears were really ramping up as we hurried out of the back exit and into a deserted alley. I couldn’t focus on Sam right now. I just needed to get us away and find a way for us to get home.
That was when I heard the sirens.
“Fuck,” I gasped.
Camden seemed unperturbed. “This way.”
He led us down the alleyway and out onto the main street. I had no idea where we were. I didn’t know this area of town like I did the Upper East or Midtown or even SoHo. I swallowed as our group hurried and yet tried to look casual, moving down the street in cocktail dresses and thousand-dollar suits.
The sirens were getting louder. I glanced over my shoulder once, just once, and saw the cars zooming toward us. I wanted to pick up my pace but worried it’d look suspicious. They were coming for the party, not us.
Camden finally stopped. “This is far enough.”
He gestured at a brightly lit diner with a sign that simply read Waffles. The inside looked like a typical sixties-era diner with red booths along the walls, a diner bar at the back, and cheap tables along the middle. A jukebox played music. I could see a collection of framed photos declaring them the best waffles in the city for the last three years. I wondered who had actually voted in that.
Katherine wrinkled her nose. “You expect me to go in there?”
“This is as good of a place to wait until I can get my driver out of that mess to pick us up,” Camden said. He yanked the door open and held it for her.
