Scoring the Billionaire(12)

I shook my head as I pulled myself to standing and made my way toward my bag.

"Silence," Thatch commentated with a chuckle.

"You know what that means," Kline continued as I pretended to ignore them both.

But my mind was all too aware of the veracity of their words when Thatch  said, "Just like the wickedest of witches, with the right weapon, our  own little Wes is melting."

And that's actually exactly how it felt-like I was slipping away, fading into a new normal.

How long will it take me to slip past the point of no return? I asked  myself. Until there's no evidence left of all that I am other than the  puddle of memories past on the floor?

And will Winnie Winslow be strong enough to save herself?





"What in the hell is this?"

"That's your Harley Quinn costume, Win."

"Are you serious?" I asked Cassie as I stared down at the clothes laid  out across the bed in her guest room. Though, describing this amount of  material as clothes was being pretty fucking generous.         

     



 

Good God, it's fabric swatches at best.

I'd hauled ass over to her and Thatch's apartment after the Mavericks'  practice had ended-three trains and a four-block power walk-just so that  I could get ready for the Brooks Media big Halloween bash with her, at  her ridiculous pregnant request, and this was the thanks I got?

She grinned and nodded her head. "I'm very serious."

"Fishnets? Booty shorts?" I muttered mostly to myself. My voice was  high-pitched-how it gets when it's bordering on hysteria. "Will I also  be selling blow jobs for twenty dollars?"

She scoffed. "Have some self-respect, Win."

I started to laugh, but she interrupted. "That price is ridiculously low."

"Cassie!" I snapped, and she laughed then.

"Haven't you see Suicide Squad? This is exactly what Harley Quinn  wears." She moved across the room and pulled out two bottles with pink  and blue caps. "And don't worry. I even got temporary hair color! Your  hair is going to look fluffing amazing in pigtails!"

"Don't worry? You're coloring my hair shades of the rainbow, and my ass cheeks are going to be hanging out all night!"

She winked. "Good thing you've got a hot ass. And don't worry because  everyone is going to know exactly who you're going for. No mistaking you  for a call girl. Swear."

I shook my head as I looked back to the bed and mumbled to myself, "Georgia was right."

I clearly didn't mumble incoherently enough. "What was Georgia right  about?" She put a hand to her hip as she stared back at me with  annoyance.

Facing her head on, I raised my voice and skewered her with the truth.  "She warned me that I shouldn't let you pick out my Halloween costume.  She pretty much predicted something like this would happen."

She smirked and started to head for the hallway, unfazed by me and my  declarations. "Georgia is just pissed that I won't tell her what my  costume is. She's been berating me about it for the past month."

I still wasn't completely used to these people, to how wild at heart  they were-how unafraid they were of living. I wanted to be, though. I  want it for myself.

"What is your costume?" I called behind her, shaking off my thoughts and dreams and steeling myself for the things to come.

"You'll see," she responded on a nearly evil laugh, shutting the bedroom  door on her way out. I stared down at my attire for the next few hours  and tried to prepare myself to face it. To own it. I had a feeling  confidence was the only thing that would ensure my survival, and I had  to survive. I had a daughter to go home to.

"Get your hot little ass ready, Win!" Cassie shrieked through the door,  startling me into motion. I snatched the fabric and hugged it to my  chest while I took one last breath. "Thatch says we need to leave here  in about a thirty minutes!"

This is it, I told myself. Chest out, head up, be the woman … Ah, fuck.

I boosted my brain with a little dose of reality, and my vagina rejoiced. Hopefully, this gets me laid.




About an hour later, with strobe lights twirling and an eclectic mix of  psychopaths and sexy animals gyrating on the dance floor in front of me,  I came to a stop just inside the entrance of one of the giant ballrooms  of The Metro beside a pregnant nun and Mr. Rogers.

I honestly had no idea what in the hell Cassie's and Thatch's costumes  were supposed to mean, but it didn't matter-because I looked more  ridiculous than both of them combined. Covered by nothing more than  fishnet stockings, booty shorts, a tight half-shirt that said Daddy's  Little Slugger across my boobs, knee-high black stiletto boots, and pink  and blue pigtails accentuated with glitter eye shadow, I was a few  beats away from a mental breakdown. If I was honest, I'd been this way  for a while. From the moment I put the whole ensemble on, my little  bedroom pep talk had been nothing but a memory.

Thatch and Cassie had tried to assure me that I didn't look like a  complete disaster, but with the way those two liked to express  things … let's just say it fell on some pretty deaf ears.         

     



 

And yet, here I was-some awful part of me hoping Wes would find the ridiculous getup irresistible.

Is this what you were going for with that whole living wild thing? my subconscious mocked.

Shut up, I told it.

As Thatch and Cassie started to move, I walked with them and tried to get myself out of my head. It wasn't going all that well.

Mildly disgusted with myself, I was happy we were headed toward the bar.  Kline and Georgia were standing off to the side, sharing a private  smile and laugh, and all I could think was, Where's Wes?

Kline put his arm around his wife's shoulder and tucked her into his  side, kissing her forehead softly, and smiling like he knew he was the  luckiest man in the world. Jealousy pounded like a hammer in my gut. I  hated that something so vile was one of the most powerful emotions I'd  ever experienced. I wanted to give that influence to positivity and good  thoughts, but I wasn't in charge.

But all that jealousy slid away, morphing in midair to hilarity when  their costumes finally hit me. I glanced at Cassie and Thatch, and then  back at Georgia and Kline, and then burst out into laughter.

"What in the fudging heck are you guys?" Cassie questioned once we  reached them, the haze of pregnancy slowing her normally acute detective  skills.

Georgia giggled for a moment until her eyes moved up and down Cassie's  naughty nun costume, and then over to Thatch's cardigan sweater, nerd  glasses, khakis, and loafers.

"What the fuck are you guys?" Georgia asked back as she slid out from under Kline's arm and moved closer to Cassie.

"We're Kline and Georgia," Thatch chimed in, a smug smile etched across his mouth.

A slow rumble of laughter rolled from Kline at that, and I joined him,  trying to at least keep the volume low enough that I wouldn't anger the  beast … cough … pregnant woman.

"Who the hell are you guys supposed to be?" Thatch asked.

"We're you guys," Georgia explained, and it wasn't without exasperation.  She'd had the winning idea in her fucking grasp, but Thatch and Cassie,  having done the exact same thing, snatched it away.

Thatch's face morphed into confusion as he surveyed their costumes with  new insight. "Why the fuck are your pants too short?" he asked Kline.  "And why do you look like you're ready to Hulk right the fuck out of  your clothes?"

Kline didn't respond to that, merely smirking at his much larger best friend.

Thatch bristled immediately. "Dude, that's not how I wear my clothes."

Kline's smirk never faded, not only unfazed by Thatch's irritation, but fueled by it.

Meanwhile, the girls were seconds away from dissolving into an all-out  cat fight. "You guys stole our idea!" Georgia shouted with an angry,  accusatory finger in Cassie's face. "You say you're dressed like me, but  all I see is a pregnant nun who's ready to give lap dances at a  bachelor party!"

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, you look like an actual hooker."

Georgia shrugged. "I was just trying to get the costume right, and I know how much you love Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman."

Cassie's eyes narrowed, and her hip cocked. "Okay … I'll give you the hooker-"

Thatch held up his hand for high fives. No one obliged.

"-but explain to me what the fluff is going on with your teeth?"

"I'm you, pre-pregnancy," Georgia retorted. "One glass of red wine and you've got immediate True Blood mouth."

Thatch laughed, but it didn't last long as Cassie whipped her head around to glare at him.

"What?" he questioned with both hands held out. "She's not wrong on this  one, honey. One fucking sip of Merlot and you look like you just got  done feeding ten seconds ago."

"I will bite your dick off."

"That's not gonna help with the True Blood mouth," I muttered to myself. Kline smiled.

"Later," Thatch said with a smirk and a wink. "We can't leave the party before it even starts."