Page 59 of Victorious

“Fucking EOs,” she called back.

They both laughed, and Rios felt the pressure easing in her chest as she stepped through the security checkpoint, the doors of EON breaking like a seal, allowing her to do the one thing the other EOs couldn’t.

Escape.

VINOW. THEN.MEANWHILE, IN DOWNTOWN MERIT …

IT sounded like a joke.

A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead walk into a hotel.

Only the brunette and the redhead were already there.

It wasn’t hard to spot them at the lobby’s edge, bare legs and high heels sticking out from cinched black coats. June sauntered over, blond bob grazing her chin with each stiletto-ed step.

“Hi girls,” she said, tamping down the music in her voice.

“Ginny!” squeaked the lanky brunette, Bella, throwing an arm around her waist. Bella had known her for years—well, not her, but the blonde she’d borrowed for the night.

“Didn’t know you were working,” muttered the redhead, Grace, crossing her arms and blowing a dark curl out of her face. No love there, thought June, though she didn’t know the drama. A glancing touch was enough to borrow a whole body, but memories were trickier things. Important details usually came through, but things like petty grievances rarely ever registered.

“Jimmy called in a favor,” lied June, dredging up the name. “Don’t worry,” she added. “It won’t cut into your fee.”

“It better not,” sulked Grace as the hotel elevator dinged, and the doors parted to allow them up.

Bella spent the brief ascent fixing her makeup in the mirrored wall.

Grace rapped her nails nervously against the rail.

June locked eyes with her reflection, the stranger staring back, and wondered for the hundredth time why she was still doing this, and what would happen if she stopped. What her life would look like. Who she’d choose to be, if—

The elevator dinged, and her thoughts snapped back to the job.

The doors opened, spitting them out on the twenty-third floor, and all they had to do was follow the music and the raucous laughter, both of which were seeping through the door at the end of the hall.

Grace rapped her knuckles on the wood, and seconds later, it swung open onto a lavish suite, with sweeping skyline views, and three men in various stages of inebriation. One sat on a couch, cutting lines, one stood at the window, nursing a tumbler, and one leaned in the doorway, a cigar in one hand and an open bottle of champagne in the other.

“Is this where the party is?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“Sure is.” The man’s gaze dragged over them like sandpaper before landing on June. “One, two—hey,” he called over his shoulder, “they sent an extra.”

June tucked a lock of blond hair behind her borrowed ear, and smiled her borrowed teeth, and thought of the wolf in the fairy tale, pretending to be human.

“Jimmy’s treat,” she said with a girlish giggle.

The man squinted through his haze of alcohol, struggling to do some mental calculation, and for a moment, June wondered what would happen next. If she’d have to handle things right then and there.

But then the one on the sofa looked up from his coke and she could tell at a glance, he was a good old-fashioned type. A they-don’t-make-’em-like-they-used-to kind of guy. “Great,” he said, “now we won’t have to share.”

The man in the doorway licked his lips. “Good point,” he said. “Well ladies, come on in.”

Bella giggled and slipped by, Grace on her heels.

June started to follow, but he blocked her way.

“Is it true what they say about blondes?” he asked, breath stinking, stale and sweet. “Do they really have more fun?”

June ran her hand up his shirtfront. Coiled his tie around her fingers.