Once Upon A Time(62)

Quinn and Kylie shared a look, one I knew I should instantly fear.

“MAKEOVER!” they both shrieked.

“Over my dead body. I’m wearing the damn dress, isn’t that enough?”

“No?” .

I sighed; when it came to makeup, hair and fashion, it was like they were in tune with each other. It was damn frightening.

“Look, I’ll wear the dress but no makeover. If you mention it again, I’ll pour wine all over that thing.” I pointed to the box, my tone deadly serious.

Kylie looked as though she was about to cry, whereas Quinn stared at me in shock. What the hell?

“What?!” I asked.

“That's… that’s blackmail! That’s like telling a gay man he can wear a pink shirt but the canary yellow jeans have to stay at home, or he can’t have a side of cock with his cocktails. It’s just not done, sweetie!”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re stereotyping again!”

“I’m gay!” He pouted. “I can say that.”

“No, you’re gay, therefore you shouldn’t say that.”

“I’m fabulous.” He raised his brow. “I can say that.”

“You’re a lost cause, Quinlan.” I sighed as he chuckled.

“Anyway... what’s the plan for the week?” Kylie interrupted. “I mean, do you have to deal with Gabriel before the event?”

I sighed.

“Yeah, I need to have him sign a couple of things but I can just email those.”

“So have you seen his place yet?” Quinn butted in.

I looked at my friend quizzically; where the hell did that come from?

“Er, no. Why?” I asked, curious where the conversation was going.

“Maybe you should head over to his place and, you know, ask him to sign your contract.” He winked.

“Ew.” I cringed. “I’m not even going to go into the ridiculous euphemism you just used. Even if I wanted to see his place, I have no idea where it is.”

“I do!” Kylie said, raising her hand like a high schooler.

“I’m not going over there. And where the hell did you get his address from?” I asked.

“Like I said, I did some poking around after we found out Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Dangerous was a client. Mitchell did some digging for me.” She shrugged.

Mitchell was one of her father's trusted employees. Being a senator meant you needed to know those around you; Mitchell was the man you went to if you needed to go digging into someone's past, and he was skilled at his job. You could have a clean background, but that DUI back in college? Yeah, he’d find it and it seemed Kylie was using her father's connections to her own advantage… or mine, whatever that meant.

“I’m sure between you and Mitchell, you probably broke a couple of state, and maybe a few federal, laws getting that address.” I pointed, raising my brow.

“Hey, love is worth being penalized!” She smirked.

Quinn choked on even more wine, losing most of it out of his nose.

“You said penis.” He chuckled, finally catching his breath. “This is why we’re best friends.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“Dude, she said penalized. You need to get laid.”

“Po-tay-toe, po-tat-oh.” He waved me off, his words a little slurred.

Looking down at my glass, I quickly realized just how much alcohol we’d consumed in such a short space of time. Add the champagne from Vera Wang to the mix, and my foggy head started to make sense.

A giggle came from Kylie as she looked me in the eyes, clearly thinking the same thing I was.

We needed more alcohol.

Deciding to move to the living room, Kylie grabbed another bottle of red as Quinn and I took a seat on the sofa, laughing as we did. The alcohol was quickly going to my head and I was already going over Quinn’s question about seeing where Gabriel lived. Sober, I wouldn’t even really think about it. He’s a client, someone I couldn’t get involved with. But a little tipsy, I was curious.

“I think you should call him.” Kylie giggled as she sat down on the sofa, filling up our glasses.

“Yes!” Quinn squealed. “Drunk dial him!”

“Ha! Yeah right.” I shook my head, noticing the silence between my friends. Wait, they were serious. “Hell no!”

Clearly noticing my lack of enthusiasm, Kylie’s eyes quickly scanned the room before she literally made a flying leap from the sofa and made a run for the dining table, all while nearly spilling red wine everywhere.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled after her, before I realized my cell was on the dining table. “Kylie Jackson, I’ll kill you!”

Handing my wine glass to Quinn, who was more than happy to receive more alcohol while he sat back and enjoyed the show, I moved from the sofa and made a run for my best friend, who was frantically searching through my cell.