“I didn’t mean—”
Oh, I’m going to hold this one against her for the rest of her life. She’s always excelled at putting her foot in her mouth. “I know. Just stop.”
“Are you going to make an effort?” She squeezes my hand imploringly. “Please. Just once in your life show a little bit of enthusiasm for Mile High, even if it’s fake. Please.”
“Gee, I didn’t realize this means so much to you.” I heave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
“And you’ll pretend you’re a fan?”
”Now you’re pushing it.”
“Thanks.” She ignores my annoyed look as she heads for the door, then stops as soon as she’s reached it. “By the way, where’s our hot host?”
“Who?”
“Um. The guy you fucked all week.”
How does she even know that?
“If you’re talking about Kellan, he left,” I remark dryly. “He said something about business.”
“Oh.” She purses her lips and eyes me for a moment. “You’ll have to tell me everything…after the gig, of course.”
“Of course,” I mumble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
When I make my way downstairs, I find Mandy in the kitchen, head lowered over a cup of coffee and the magazine in her hands. From the doorway, I have a few seconds to take in her outfit her before she notices me. She’s wearing a short leather skirt, high-heel boots that almost reach her knees, and a top that leaves very little to the imagination. I’m dressed in jeans, an off-shoulder top that isn’t too snug, and flat boots. I don’t know how long gigs usually last, but I’m pretty sure I won’t get blisters, which is my top priority.
“Ready?” I ask with more enthusiasm than I actually feel.
Mandy turns and her gaze swipes over me. Her thoughts are visible in the frown across her forehead, and she opens her mouth before I can stop her. “That’s your version of sexy?”
“It’s my version of being interested enough to listen. God. You just can’t help yourself.”
Her shoulders are tense with something.
“What’s wrong?”
She hesitates, her back still turned on me. “I just—”
She sniffles.
“Mandy? Oh, my God.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her in a hug. “Are you crying?”
She shakes her head even though two tears are trickling down her cheek.
“Is something wrong? Are you okay?”
Now I’m worried sick. Something’s wrong with her, I just know it.
“It’s happening,” Mandy whispers.
“What’s happening?” I frown.
Is a hurricane hitting Montana after all and we’re going to die?
“Mile High,” she speaks between sniffles. “I’ve been trying to get tickets for ages, but they were always sold out. Tonight we’re finally going to see them. I cannot believe it’s that day.”
Oh. My. God.
I stare at her, dumbfounded. She must have gone ape-shit crazy because no grown-up woman in her right mind would cry at the prospect of seeing some dudes wail into a microphone, no matter how talented they are. I mean, seriously, that’s so Europe in the Dark Ages, when people had no television and the Internet to entertain them.
“God, you scared me. I thought you were sick or something.” I slap her shoulder playfully. “You’re a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. You’re clever and educated. Get a grip, or you’re going alone.”
“Thank you.” She smiles and nods.
I stare at her, expecting more drama. When none comes, I heave a sigh.
“Don’t mention it. You know I’ll always be here to talk some sense into you. That’s what friends are for,” I say and let go of her.
“No. Thank you for winning the tickets,” Mandy says. “Now, if you could get changed…”
I shake my head in disbelief, hold up a hand, annoyed, and leave the kitchen, not in the least interested if she’s following.
“What did I say?” Mandy calls after me.
“Where do I even start?” I yell back. “The answer is no. I won’t be bullied into wearing a slutty outfit just because you want to meet the band.”
I sling my handbag over my shoulder and grab my jacket. I most certainly won’t be freezing my ass off out there, not even for the likes of Mile High.
The clicking sound of heels echoes down the hall a moment before Mandy reaches me.
I peer down at her shoes doubtfully. The heels are so high, at some point, I know, her feet will hurt so much she’ll either want to swap or I’ll have to carry her. Usually, I end up giving her my shoes. But today I’ll let her pay the price of beauty just because she’s inflicting this kind of torture upon me.