“Look at this place, Bizzy. It’s good and snazzy.” George sniffs.
Both Georgie and Juni have decked themselves out for a night on the town.
Georgie has donned her signature kaftan, in an apropos hue for this dark and pumpkin-shaped month, black with orange sequins.
Juni has on a black leather dress—short, with a squared-off neckline, and she’s paired it with a pair of fishnets that have rhinestones running up the back of her legs.
Camila looks as if she was ripped out of a fashion catalog, with her full-bodied hair flowing in perfect form, and a crimson sweater dress that hugs her curves tighter than a racecar at the track.
And seeing that I knew Camila would be stepping up her game, thanks to the fact I’m allowing her the chance to have dinner with the ex-fiancé she’s still more than mildly obsessed with, I’ve stepped up my game, too. I pulled out my crimson sweater dress and thigh-high suede boots with heels.
Okay, Camila and I are basically wearing the exact same thing. It seems I crawled a little too deep into the Camila Ryder-inspired end of my wardrobe. A massive misstep that I won’t let happen again. The next time we plan a little outing like this, I’m demanding she sends me a picture of the stitches she’s chosen to outfit herself with. God forbid people think we’re playing twinsies on purpose. It’s bad enough she wants to play twinsies with my marital status—with my husband if you want to get right down to it.
We step inside the establishment, and the sound of loud rock music vibrates right through to our bones. The scent of chowder and French fries infiltrates our senses, and seeing that there’s about an hour wait, we put our names in and head for the bar.
It’s dimly lit inside, the floors, walls, and furniture are all made of dark wood, and there’s a nautical theme running throughout. The bar is about as spacious as the dining room, and there are even people dancing in the middle of it. But unlike the main dining room, the bar is furnished with high tables that you can easily set your drinks down on, at a standing height. Lucky for us, we manage to snag one close to the bartender with tall stools set around it.
“I can’t sit in these.” Georgie pushes her seat away and opts to stand. “I’ve got vertigo. I’ll fall over.”
“Don’t fall over,” Camila commands. “The last thing I want is for us to end up in the ER because you cracked your head open like a piñata.”
Juni snickers. “I bet candy would fall out—Red Hots to be exact.”
Camila snorts. “I bet nothing would fall out.”
“Watch it, sister,” Georgie huffs. “Or there will be a fallout, all right. It just so happens that my friend Bizzy Baker Wilder”—she winks my way when she says my newly minted moniker—“can pin a homicide on whoever she wants. And if she wants to send you up the river for the next fifty years, it’s hasta la bye-bye to ya. So you’d better be nice to me. Those are the rules. Pick a fight. I dare you.”
“Now that we’ve established the rules of fight club,” Juni slaps her hands down over the table, “let’s cut to the coital chase. How many men apiece are we looking at?” She cranes her head as she asks the asinine question.
Camila shakes her head my way. “What’s happening here?”
“Just a typical night out for the three of us,” I say without batting a lash, because let’s face it, it’s true. “No limit on men,” I tell Juni. “But you’re both leaving with me. Collect all the numbers you want, leave the STDs at the door.”
Georgie and Juni emit a sharp whoop.
“You heard the lady.” Georgie elbows her baby girl. “Let’s get cookin’.” She leans in. “Bizzy, order up some appetizers. I’ll head to the bar and pick up a few tasty treats.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” I say. “I see a waitress headed this way.”
“I’m not going for drinks, hon.” She gives a little wink before knocking her head toward Juni. “Come on, chica. Let’s make a game of it. First person to score seven digits is buying tonight.”
Juni’s eyes round out as she leans toward her mother. “I thought you said Jasper was buying?” she hisses as they make their way to the bar.
Camila shoots me a look that can slit my throat. “Again, why did they have to tag along?”
“Because if they didn’t, we’d look like a couple of matching sister-wives on a date with our husband.”
Her eyes sweep up and down my body. “You do have good taste in both fashion and men.” Something by the door catches her eye and she gasps.
“Is she here?” I glance back and gasp right along with her.
“No, it’s your hot brother and that ditz of a mayor he’s leashed himself with.”
Before I can laugh or agree with her—on that part about the ditz of a mayor, not the hot brother part, although in all fairness I’ve been told Hux is a looker—the two of them are upon us.
“Well, well.” Mackenzie Woods sizes the two of us up with wide eyes. Mackenzie is the current mayor of Cider Cove. She’s followed in her father’s footsteps and her grandfather’s before that. A part of me thinks the good people of our cozy town voted for her because they were used to having a Mayor Woods in office. There’s comfort in repetition—and a serpent named Mackenzie, too. “If it isn’t the Bobbsey Twins. Is it red dress night? I didn’t get the memo.” She shakes her head. Out on the town with the hussy looking to score a home run with her husband? I will never understand Bizzy Baker.
Some days I don’t understand myself. This is definitely one of them.
Both Mack and Hux are dressed to the nines, with her in a little
