Chase hadn’t wasted any time in setting a date for the next Kink Lab. I’d be lying if said I wasn’t a nervous wreck. I mean, I couldn’t afford to have the one thing in my life right now that was worth anything, damaged or destroyed. They’d all promised there’d be no problems, but I was leaving nothing to chance.
The party’s ‘advance men,’ as they called them, arrived at four in the afternoon, several hours before the actual event was to start. I’d already stored the gallery’s most expensive artwork in a locked closet, just in case. I watched the movers take over my gallery with an efficient expertise, emptying their moving truck of furniture into the place in less than thirty minutes. Then, Blu appeared on the scene to tell the movers what to place where. Using my ladder, they even hung some filmy fabric from the pipes running across the ceiling.
The transformation was incredible. My gallery was now ready for a sex club.
“Whew, that was a lot of work. But the place looks fucking great,” Blu said, plopping down into one of the several fluffy sofas he’d brought in.
“It really does,” I said, looking around in disbelief.
“Hey, Av, you look nervous. Relax, why dontcha? When the party ends at midnight, the crew returns, moves everything back into the truck, and cleans the place from top to bottom. When you come in tomorrow morning, you’ll never know anything happened here,” he said.
I took a deep breath. “I hope so, Blu. I really do.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me down on the sofa next to him. “Av, sweetie. Trust me on this. Have I ever let you down?”
“Well, you let me marry Devon even though you thought he was a jerk.”
He nodded. “Okay. I did let you down in that area. But I’m not going to any more. Promise.” He held up his small finger for the pinky promise we used when we were looking out for each other.
I loved him for that. And the funny thing was, it really did make me feel better.
“So, on to more important topics. What are you wearing tonight?” he asked, waving his hand over me like a fairy godmother.
Which, he sort of was.
“Well, um, I was just gonna wear what I have on,” I said, checking out my dress and shoes as if I hadn’t already done that a dozen times before I’d left the house that morning.
“WHAT?”
“What do you mean what? What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“How many times do we have to go through this?” he said, drawing out his words like I was some sort of thick-headed toddler. He did that sometimes.
“I think my black sheath dress is perfectly appropriate.”
“Okay. It’s a sex party, not a board meeting of one of your charities. That DVF wrap dress you had on last time was way better.”
“I could go home and get that.”
“Av, what you don’t understand is that this is your pla
ce. You are partnering with us guys. You are a hostess.”
Well. I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’d imagined myself perhaps watching from the sidelines, not meeting and greeting.
“Um, okay,” I said.
“Here,” he said, furiously texting a message on his phone.
“There isn’t time, Blu. I’ll dress differently for next time.”
“There’s plenty of time,” he shrieked. “Okay. I just texted my boy Juan up at Barneys New York. Is your driver nearby?”
I wished. “No. Asshole cut me off from him, too.”
“What a fucker. Okay, then. We’ll go out front, and I’ll hail you a cab. Meet Juan in the designer department at Barneys. He’ll have a dressing room full of clothes for you to try.”
“All right, boss. Whatever you say.”