I drink on a rare occasion because I’m usually on call. He’s right. I might need it tonight. “I’m driving.”
“Not anymore, so drink up.” He smirks at me while I tip the glass letting the bubbly effervescence tickle my tongue.
We mingle with a handful of people that aren’t embarrassed to be seen with the lowly dressed misfits, mainly Nana and a few of the staff members. A cringe-worthy screech silences the room as my father takes the microphone and thanks everyone for coming, then invites them to be seated for dinner. My seating card is always next to my father’s, but not tonight. Eventually I find mine and Steven’s, which now belongs to Trick, at the very back table—the escort table. I’m certain this was a last minute switch since our arrival, but I don’t react to my father’s shunning.
“Your nana didn’t get demoted to the back,” Trick whispers in my ear as he seats me in my chair.
“That would never happen. As long as she’s alive, she’ll always have the best seat in the house.”
Trick places his cloth napkin in his lap. “Why is that?”
I take a sip from my—fourth?—glass of champagne. Must be why I’m a little loose-lipped right now. “My father thinks Nana controls the purse strings.”
Trick gives a polite nod to the bimbo that takes a seat next to him. Then he puts his arm around the back of my chair and leans in closer until his sexy cologne makes my already dizzy head spin on its side. “Purse strings?”
I giggle. “Yes, purse strings. Charles McDermot, my grandfather who died when my mom was sixteen, was quite wealthy. My mom was an only child and was going to inherit a fortune one day. Daddy Dearest was an attorney rotating through the same three cheap suits when he met my mom. My father doesn’t need the money as long as he has Rachel, but I think we all know that won’t last forever, so he assumes when Nana dies I will inherit the McDermot fortune and of course feel obligated to share it with him.” I take another sip of champagne. “So as long as he thinks that, Nana gets rock star treatment. He knows she’s my weak spot and I care more about how he treats her than how he treats me.”
“Thinks? I take it you don’t plan on sharing it with him?”
“No, that’s not it. After I graduated from college I told Nana I didn’t want the money so she donated most of it to various charities. Nana has some money, but she’s no longer sitting on the fortune my father thinks she is.”
I hiccup in a very unladylike fashion, eliciting snooty looks from the golden pussies seated around us. I can’t help the giggle that escapes, so I bury my face into the crook of Trick’s neck. “They’re ashamed to sit with me too,” I say in a voice that’s a little louder than a whisper. I inhale his scent. “God, you smell good.”
“I think you’ve had your limit.” He grabs my ponytail and gives it a gentle tug.
Whoa! Why did that feel so … hot?
I sit up and squirm in my seat. Visions of him yanking on my ponytail in a more intimate setting drive my train of thought. Our dinner plates are placed in front of us, and I waste no time digging into the artistic concoction that one of the bimbos across the table is taking a picture of with her phone. Real classy.
I think they eat three of the julienned carrots, combined, then scowl at me in disgust as I finish my entire meal. “Stop staring. Your now bony asses are going to look like Mac trucks someday when your anorexic deprivation turns into a binge fest. So I hope you have a plan B beyond five-hundred-dollar-an-hour blow jobs.”
Trick coughs, maybe masking his laugh, as I’m met with wide eyes and Botox-lipped O’s. “Let’s go.” He wipes his mouth and scoots back in his chair, then helps me out of mine.
“But dessert hasn’t been served yet,” I whine.
“We’ll stop for ice cream on the way home.”
“Really?” I perk up.
He doesn’t answer as we make a hurried exit. I stumble over my own heavy feet as he pulls me out the door.
“Ms. Carmichael’s car, please,” he says to the attendant.
I collapse into his chest, feeling a sudden wave of tiredness wash over my numb body. “You got me drunk, Mr. Roth.” I giggle. “Now what are you going to do with me?” I nuzzle my nose into his neck again.
“Take you home.”
“Boring,” I mumble against his skin as my hands slide down his back. I slip them into his back pockets, and he doesn’t stop me. “You’re my very … best … friend … ever.” I sigh, closing my eyes and smiling with warm contentment.