His scowl broke out into a toothy smile. “Hey, Brookie. Good to see ya. How’s your dad doin’?”
“Great, if you overlook his stress and unwillingness to take his vitamins.”
The boom of Timmy’s laughter sounded like boulders rolling down the side of a mountain. “Sounds like him.” He unhooked the velvet rope and waved us through without checking our IDs. “Have fun.”
We swanned past, eliciting a chorus of grumbles from the queue. Timmy silenced them with another scowl.
“Next!” he barked. “Where’s your ID?”
The door closed behind us, enveloping us in neon-splashed darkness and thumping music.
“Brookie, huh?” I shouted over the noise.
She laughed. “Family friend!” she yelled back. “Speaking of friend, you want me to help you find yours?”
“It’s okay. You go have fun.” I gestured toward the dance floor. “I don’t want to keep you, and you’ve helped enough.”
“You sure?”
I nodded.
“Give me your phone anyway.” Brooklyn took my mobile and entered her number. “Here, I texted myself, so I have your number too. You need anything, give me a shout. It was nice meeting you, Scarlett!”
“You too!”
Normally, I would never exchange numbers with a virtual stranger, but Brooklyn gave me good vibes. Plus, I needed more friends. I hadn’t realized how small my social circle really was until tonight, when I couldn’t think of anyone else to invite out besides Carina.
I stared at the undulating crowd, took a deep breath, and plunged in.
Luckily, it didn’t take me long to find the VIP lounge. It was located on the top floor, and the relative quiet here compared to the chaos of the main rooms was almost jarring.
A security guard and a woman in a dazzling silver sequined dress stood at the base of the stairs leading into the lounge. She carried a clipboard and walkie-talkie and arched her eyebrows at my approach.
“Hi. I’m here for the private party.”
Asher still hadn’t responded to my text, but he had to be here. Right?
The hostess flicked her eyes over my outfit. I was wearing my nicest black dress and heels accessorized with a designer clutch Vincent bought for my twenty-fourth birthday. It wasn’t cutting-edge fashion, but judging by her grimace, you’d think I’d shown up in a potato sack and Crocs.
“And who are you?” Her tone indicated she already knew the answer.
No one.
I stiffened, my self-consciousness ceding ground to indignation. “Scarlett DuBois.” I tried my best to project confidence. “I’m on the list.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t see your name.” She couldn’t have sounded less sorry if she’d tried.
“You didn’t check!”
“I don’t need to. This is a VIP party.” She tapped her nails against her clipboard. “I’m afraid your hundred-quid dress and two-year-old bag don’t meet our criteria. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She turned to greet a trio of newcomers.
The swanlike models brushed past me, all legs and thousand-dollar minis. They provided their names, the hostess checked them off with a smile, and they disappeared up the stairs in a flurry of giggles and clacking heels. None of them spared me a glance.
The hostess’s smile disappeared when she faced me again. “Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Otherwise, Roscoe will escort you out.”
The security guard next to her glared down at me.
My teeth clenched, but I had no choice other than to turn and exit with as much dignity as I could scrape together.
I’d made enough scenes for today. Besides, what was I going to do? Snatch the clipboard from her and search the list myself? Roscoe would tackle me before I got past the A’s.
Exhaustion burned behind my eyes. I turned the corner and jabbed the button for the lift.
I couldn’t wait to go home. This entire night was a—
The doors opened with a ping and a whiff of familiar aftershave.
“Scarlett?”
There was a treacherous quickening in my chest.
“You made it.” The shadows fell away, revealing the slant of Asher’s cheekbones and chiseled jawline. His gaze trailed the length of my dress and legs. “You look…” A small pause allowed the muffled beats from the lounge to creep between us. Thud. Thud. Thud. “Good.”
A brief sizzle of electricity sang through my arms and legs.
“Thank you.” I forced a smile, my encounter with the hostess too fresh to forget despite the relief of running into Asher. “But apparently not good enough.”
“What do you mean?”
