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Twenty-Three
Nora
I roundthe corner and our usual table comes into view. Trix and Melanie are already here — as they probably showed up on time.
Melanie spots me and throws up her hands. “And just where have you been, young lady?”
“Sorry,” I say, sliding my jacket off. “I got a little... held down.”
I sit a little too fast and my sore cheeks twinge. At least the chairs are padded.
Trix sighs. “Well, now that you’re here, let me tell you about this motherfucking prosecutor trying to put my dad in prison.”
A mimosa drops down in front of me and I glance up into the youthful eyes of our usual server. I flash him a wink in thanks and his lips twitch before he takes off once again.
I reach for the glass, shifting my attention back to Trix as I take a sip.
“Lance Tyler,” she says, squinting. “What the fuck kind of name is that?”
“Very American,” I answer.
“Yeah, well, he and this Max Monahan guy can suck my ass because...”
I glance at Melanie and I realize she’s been staring at me since I sat down. Or, more specifically, at my neck.
“What?” I ask her.
She points at me. “What’s that about?” she asks, talking over Trix.
I shrug. “What’s what about?”
Trix goes quiet.
“The choker,” Melanie says, leaning in. “You’re wearing a choker. In 2017.”
My hand snaps to my neck. Fuck. I forgot I was still wearing it.
“Uh…” I shift in my chair. “It’s an old necklace. I found it in my closet. Thought it looked cute…”
Melanie shakes her head with suspicion. “You went back to Judy’s, didn’t you?” she asks.
I drop my jaw. “No! I didn’t.”
Her palm slams on the table. “You went back and you found yourself a Big Daddy Dom, didn’t you?! You’re collared!”
My throat clenches. Fuck me and my stunning inability to lie.
“Nongh itz...” I sigh. “Yes. Fine. I went back. But it’s not what you think!”
Trix gasps at me. “You little slut!”
“Oh, be careful now,” Melanie says, grinning. “She might like that.”
“Stop it!” I glance around, hoping the sudden outburst didn’t draw eyes to our table. “It’s really not what you think,” I say again.
“Who is it?” Melanie sits back with crossed arms, looking smug. “I want names.”
“No.”
