Beauty in the Ashes

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Hours later, I stood in my tiny bathroom in a skintight black dress and wearing more make-up than I knew I owned. I felt like a stranger was staring back at me. My eyes looked wide—lined in black with gray shadows—and my plump lips were accentuated with a bright cherry red. I’d definitely have to come back home and clean my face off before I went to Griffin’s. I wouldn’t be recognized if I showed up like this.

I grabbed my perfume and sprayed a bit on my wrists. As I was placing it back on the counter there was a knock at the door.

I took a deep breath and muttered, “Showtime,” at my reflection.

‘Going out’ wasn’t something I enjoyed anymore. At one time, I had, but that felt like a lifetime ago. I was content to st

ay home and watch sitcoms or read a book. I would’ve felt bad turning Daphne down though. I felt like we could be friends, given the chance. Also, I wanted to save her from Cyrus. He seemed pretentious. Besides, I was already rooting for Daphmery. Yes, I already gave them a nickname, but it wasn’t like I had named their children…yet.

I swung the door open—expecting to only find Daphne—but was greeted by the whole entourage.

“You look nice,” Cyrus grinned, his eyes starting at my feet, which were clad in dangerously high strappy heels, and perusing their way up my body. “Although, I think I prefer you in your underwear.”

My mouth fell open. Was this guy for real? “Did those words really just come out of your mouth?” I cocked my hip to the side and placed my hand on it, staring him down.

“They really did,” his dark eyes held me hostage. I noticed a bruise had formed around his eye from the punch he sustained.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, rocking back on his heels.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” I glared, tempted to slam the door in all of their faces and spend the evening with Brutus.

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Ooookay,” Frankie clapped his hands together, “now that Cyrus has thoroughly eye-fucked the new neighbor, I think it’s time to leave. Memphis is holding a table for us.”

“I’d rather be really fucking than just eye-fucking,” Cyrus grinned at having silenced everyone with his douchebaggery.

“Keep dreaming,” I muttered, pushing past him and heading for the stairwell, knowing they’d follow me.

Once outside I stopped, waiting for them to catch up. When they did I asked, “Are we walking, or driving?”

“Walking,” Frankie spoke up, his arm wrapped around Jen’s waist, “it’s not far.”

“Lead the way,” I told him, swiping my hand dramatically through the air.

A few blocks later I found myself standing inside a nice restaurant and bar. It was definitely more upscale, but not overly so. The floors shined and the bar was chaotic. The noise level was through the roof and I wished I had some earplugs—ooh, maybe I should buy some on the way home and give some to Caelan while I’m at it. That would certainly be interesting.

Shit.

I was inventing reasons to see him now.

I needed to cut it out.

He was toxic, and I’d had enough experience with people that possessed baggage to know I needed to stay far away.

It didn’t mean it would be easy.

“There’s Memphis,” Frankie pointed to someone I couldn’t see.

I followed the group of misfits to the back of the restaurant where a large sectional type booth waited for us.

“You have no idea how difficult it was to hold this for you,” a new voice spoke up.

Something about the sound of the man’s voice made a shiver—a good one—run down my spine.