About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(38)

“Really? Tell me about it.”

“It’s such a long story, Quinn. I can’t be bothered reliving it.”

I put on a mock-pout. “And I thought we were friends.”

She sighed and I knew she was rolling her eyes at me. “Okay, fine. My screeching banshee boss made today interesting. So she calls me into her office and tells me without blinking a lash that if I ever screw her husband, she’ll ruin me.”

My mouth gaped. “What? She can’t do that!”

Maya scoffs, “Oh. It gets worse.”

“Worse?” I question.

“Worse,” she confirms. “Yesterday afternoon, as I was leaving the office, my other boss stopped me, asking to use my pass. I mean, he’s my boss! Of course I’m going to let him into the building. So I go up with him while he looks for whatever it is he’s looking for then we both leave. That’s it!” She sighs. “I got called into her office today. She almost fired me.”

She sounded so wounded that I wanted to reach into the phone and cradle her in my arms until she felt better. “I’m sorry, Maya. That blows. What now?”

“Well,”—I heard her smile—“I told her if she was going to punish me for something I hadn’t done, I’d get lawyers involved.”

My brows lifted and my lips pursed in pride. “No shit? That’s some quick thinking, girl. Good job. I hope she backed down.”

“She did, but something tells me this is far from over.” She paused only to add quietly, “It’s like she sucks the life out of the environment around her. She’s so bitter that she wants everyone else to be bitter so her bitter ass will have company.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed then added teasingly, “You sound stressed. You know what you need?”

She cut me off with a warning, “Quinn.”

My shoulders shook in silent laughter as I added innocently, “I was going to say a bath! Geez, woman. Get your mind out of the gutter. Filthy, dirty girl.”

“I should probably go to bed.” I’d heard that smile a lot. I desperately wanted to see it.

Three more days.

I absently scratched my arm. “Yeah, me too. Night, Maya.”

Her soft yet husky voice was sure to give me good dreams. “Night, Spiderman.”

I slept peacefully that night, and good dreams were had.





Chapter Twenty



Mia




Thankfully, Friday passed without incident.

Ella and I made excellent progress on the desperate and dateless ball. It was exciting to know this would be my first event as an event manager. It meant I would be in charge and on my lonesome with my headset and clipboard. Ella had already given me the rundown and told me if I get stuck that I could call her any time of the night. The event was to officially last until midnight, but the radio station wanted to keep it going until two a.m. Addison had already told me I would only be on the clock until the clock struck twelve? but gave strict orders that I was not to leave the premises until the last patron had exited.

That was fine by me. I didn’t mind sticking around. I dragged my tired ass home around seven p.m. and didn’t even bother stopping home before I knocked on the apartment door across from me.

Bill answered smiling then, taking one look at me, his smile fell and he raised his arms, somehow knowing exactly what I needed. I wrapped my arms around his waist and his strong arms held me. He stroked my hair and without removing himself from around me, walked us inside and shut the door.

Terry, who was cooking, called out from the kitchen, “Wassup, ho?” Too busy basking in the warmth of Bill’s body, I did not answer. Which got me a barked, “Yo! Ho!” When I hadn’t answered a second time, a hand at my back and a softly spoken, “Ho?” by my ear made me bury myself deeper into Bill.

“I hate my boss,” I mumbled into his tee.

Terry wrapped his arms around the both of us in a group hug, surrounding me in friendship and support. My chest grew warm and I basked in the glow. Ten minutes—and a Cosmo—later, I sat on the sofa, snuggled up to my two favorite guys. We watched ridiculous reality TV shows while Terry fed me expensive chocolates.

Not so bad as far as Friday nights go.




Incessant knocking at my door woke me, along with the yelling, “Get your ass up, Mia!”

Without acknowledging the knockee, I threw a pillow over my head and groaned. But the knocking did not cease. Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled out of my bedroom and unlocked my front door. As soon as the latch clicked over, the door was thrown open and Terry strode inside. On the way, he handed me a glass of something frothy and purple. I didn’t even want to know.

“Drink up, sugarplum,” he muttered, careful not to touch anything as he looked around my apartment wearily, as if being unfashionable was catching.

“What…” are you doing here? “What…” is the time? “What…” is the purple sludge in the glass?

There were so many what questions, so little time.

He leaned against my kitchen counter. “Well.” Then looked down at the counter with wide eyes and thought better of it, straightening and wiping at his t-shirt-covered hip. “I know you would never ask, and after you said you were going out tonight, I thought I’d help you choose an outfit before I went to work.” He smiled graciously, leaned forward, and whispered, “You’re welcome.”