Rule (Marked Men #1)(21)

“I turn twenty one next year.” I’m not sure why I thought that was a valid argument to all her more than accurate points, but for some reason it’s what popped out of my mouth.

She shook her dark head. “Who cares? You’re twenty today and you’re living like you’re fifty.” It stung because on the last trip to Brookside Rule had said pretty much the same thing. With a sigh I remembered my resignation last night to just turn myself over to Ayden’s plan, to for once just let go. I tucked some hair behind my ears and squared my shoulders.

“Okay.”

Ayden looked up under raised eyebrows. “Okay?”

“Yep. Let’s do this. Let the birthday fun and debauchery commence.” She squealed loud enough to make my ears hurt and rushed around the table to wrap me up in a hug that squeezed the life out of me.

“Trust me Shaw, you will never forget today.” She was right because by the end of the night this birthday would prove to be life changing.

Breakfast was amazing and we stuffed ourselves so full of fried goodness that by the time we hit the mall I needed to do a few laps just to keep moving. I tried on a million pairs of jeans and ended up buying quite a few. I grabbed a pair of Chuck Taylors that I always wanted but was never allowed to have and stocked up on boring old t-shirts and tank tops. At the thrift store I scooped up an awesome old school leather jacket and a couple western style shirts with pearl buttons that I knew would look awesome with my new skinny jeans. At the vintage store I went a little crazier because I just fell in love with all the fifties and sixties style dresses. I looked like a character out of Mad Men in a few of them and like Bettie Page minus the height in a couple more. I bought a pair of heels that were peacock blue and had sequined feathers on the side and a sweet pill box hat that I probably would never wear but adored. More importantly I laughed with Ayden for hours while we tried thing after thing on and felt like a giant weight was off my chest. It was fun, plain and simple and the fact I forgot what that felt like was just sad.

At the salon I got a hot pink mani-pedi and just for kicks had them add little black stars. It was cool and totally against the normal pale and pearly colors I went for. The lady doing it had bright green dread-locks and a tattoo across her forehead so I was thrilled when she grinned at me and told me she approved. Everyone that worked at this salon had a cool, rock and roll kind of vibe and while I normally would have felt out of place and reserved, they were all so nice and friendly that it was impossible to do anything but relax and have a good time. The guy in charge of my hair was a big, obviously g*y, African American dressed head to toe in leopard print. His shiny bald head had a big tattoo of an eye on the back and his shoes probably cost more than mine, but he was sweet and told me my hair was gorgeous and suggested I just put some layers in it to give it body and life. I was all on board and even asked if he could do something new with the color. My hair was so pale I normally avoided dying it simply because it went too far in the extreme. His dark eyes gleamed in excitement when I asked for something kicky but still respectable, what I got was my normally ash blond with a shadow of chestnut brown underneath. It was awesome, different but understated enough not to be alarming. My favorite part was that he had bisected my super straight bangs in half and added the darker color to one side. It was trendy and hip and so different from what my hair normally looked like I hugged him hard in glee on my way out. He hugged me back more than likely because I tipped enough to take a weekend trip on, but who cared, I looked awesome.

We ran back to the house to get dolled up for dinner. I put on one of my new outfits, a super tight pencil skirt and a sheer blue top with a black cami underneath. I curled up my new hair, put on more makeup than I normally wore and decided just for the hell of it I would wear my awesome black boots. They looked like something a Harley Davidson model would wear, but I loved them and they gave my look a certain edge that I was feeling after a day of letting the real Shaw off her perpetual leash. Ayden put on a slinky red number that made her long legs look endless and set against her dark hair had our waiter at the restaurant practically drooling into our water every time he stopped by to refill our glasses. She made me try out my new Id by ordering a drink, it worked like a charm and before I knew it we were both feeling no pain and having a great time bouncing from bar to bar and club to club in LoDo and even after a few hours making our way back up towards Capitol Hill and some of cool dive bars up there. I was surprised that I didn’t even need to show the fake Id at most places, turns out a tight skirt and exposed br**sts work just as well.

I was laughing hysterically at Ayden doing some impression of a guy failing around on the dance floor, we had drawn our fair amount of attention everywhere we went tonight and had had to pay for very few drinks. At the moment a guy from CU Boulder was trying to tell me all about his illustrious football career or rather he was telling my boobs about it since I don’t think he had looked up from the girls once. Ayden was rolling her eyes and trying to avoid some guy in a banker suit that was offering to do her taxes for free if she gave him her number. It was silly and fun, I didn’t have to work hard at the flirting or being charming. I was well past my way to being wasted so conversation was out. All I had to do was smile and sit prettily on the bar stool, two things I was apparently really getting good at. Another Cosmo that I definitely didn’t need appeared before me and Mr. Football was leaning even closer to me when some sixth sense, maybe it was my fight or flight response suddenly kicked into over drive.