Page 156 of Fame and Obsession
Even before he pulls me out of the cab I can hear loud, pounding music.
Pursing my lips, I tilt my head to the side. “Did you seriously bring me to a bar? Are you trying to torture me?”
“Do I look like I’m into torture?”
“I don’t know. I can’t look at anything.” The chuckle from above turns my attention to what I assume is his face. “Is the blindfold really necessary?” When I reach up to remove his tie from around my head, he quickly bats my fingers away and readjusts its position.
“Hell yeah, it is. I’m enjoying this.” Before I can argue, his strong arms pull me out of the car and to my feet. Slipping a protective arm around my waist, he leans in close and walks me forward.
The music gets louder and a chorus of laughter and multiple conversations fills the air. We’re definitely at a bar. After a few more power strides, we come to a stop. The music is now almost deafening, only now it’s accompanied by the clanging of glasses and high-pitched laughter.
As he ushers me through a doorway, a thick and raspy voice fills my ears.
“We were wondering when you’d get here, brother. The natives are restless.”
Julian turns away, lowering his voice to a whisper. He tries avoid letting me in on the conversation, so, obviously, I lean in further to hear what’s being said. It’s like trying to watch a French movie with Italian subtitles.
Trying to make sense of every third word is about to drive me crazy.
“Yes…here…ready…everything…done…”
“Come on, Phoebe.” Taking my hand, he pulls me inside another room. Fingers slide up my back and push the tie down my face. The instant the blindfold falls, his lips dust against the outer rim of my ear. “Surprise, princess. Happy birthday.”
Tons of people crowd together, shoulder to shoulder and drink to drink.
Narrowing my eyes, I scan the room. We’re at Club Vanquish—the scene of the crime.
A few faces I recognize, a few I don’t.
“Julian, how…?”
He nods toward a table. “Come with me.”
As we near the crowded table, a sea of familiar faces smile back at me. Before I know it, I’m being swept up into strong arms and pulled against a hard chest.
“It’s a party, baby doll, so why the puss-face?” Stepping back, Gage gives me an appreciative perusal and jokes about my non-existent belly. “Whoa, Pheebs, did you swallow a beach ball in the hospital or are you just happy to see me?”
A slow grin spreads across my face, and I throw myself into his arms. “Obviously I’m just happy to see you, Gage.”
He flashes that megawatt grin as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Keep your voice down, Blogosphere Daily might snap a picture.”
As I laugh, a hand pulls me backward into waiting arms. “Hands off, Harlow,” Julian says, nipping at my ear. “This one is permanently off limits.”
Gage kisses my cheek and winks. “She doesn’t have the right equipment anyway. Right, Pheebs?”
I laugh, thinking how the Castellano joke seems like years ago, not months…
I turn my chin over my shoulder and stare at Julian, his green eyes dancing in the dimly lit room. “How in the hell did you do all of this?”
A wicked grin spreads across his face, and he glances behind me moments before small hands covered my eyes.
“Phoebe!”
I’d know that voice anywhere.
“No fucking way!” Pulling the hands away from my eyes, I whip around and let out a shriek that makes Julian wince. “Faith!” I throw my arms around her. “I can’t believe this! How in the hell—oh, my God. Why are you here?”
Overwhelmed, I step back to look at her. It’s been three years, but she hasn’t changed. Still tall, lean, and tanned, with long blonde hair framing her angelic face. We’d roomed together the three short months I spent at Dreighton University, and then she stayed by my side at the hospital like a sister, until she returned to Charleston.
