Tangled (The Tangled Series)(28)

Have her? The word lucky doesn’t even come close.

“It’s all an act,” Delores teases. “Beneath her corporate suit and that good-girl persona beats the heart of a true rebel. I could tell you stories about Katie that would put hair on your eyeballs.”

Kate turns stern eyes on her friend. “Thank you, Dee. Please don’t.”

Cum Stain smiles, puts his arm around Kate’s waist, and rests his lips on the top of her head.

I need a drink. Or a punching bag. Now.

Words fly out of my mouth like well-aimed bullets: “That’s right. You were quite the little delinquent back in the day, weren’t you Kate? Dad, did you know she used to sing in a band? That’s how you supported yourself through business school, right? Guess it beats pole dancing.”

She chokes on her drink. Gentleman that I am, I hand her a napkin.

“And Billy here, that’s what he still does. You’re a musician, right?”

He looks at me like I’m a pile of dog crap that he just stepped in. “That’s right.”

“So, tell us Billy, are you like a Bret Michaels kind of rocker? Or more of a Vanilla Ice?” See how his jaw clenches? How his eyes narrow? Bring it, Monkey Boy. Please.

“Neither.”

“Why don’t you grab your accordion, or whatever you play, and pop up on stage? There’s a lot of money floating around this room. Maybe you could book a wedding. Or a bar mitzvah.”

Almost there.

“I don’t play those types of venues.”

This should do it.

“Wow. In this economy, I didn’t think the poor and jobless could be so picky.”

“Listen, you piece of—”

“Billy, honey, could you get me another drink from the bar? I’m almost done with this one.” Kate pulls on his arm, cutting off what I’m sure would have been a brilliant retort.

Are you feeling the sarcasm?

And then she turns toward me, and she doesn’t sound nearly as friendly. “Drew, I just remembered I have some documents to give you about the Genesis account. They’re in my office. Let’s go.”

I don’t move. I don’t answer her. My eyes are still locked in a staring contest with Shit For Brains.

“It’s a party, Kate,” my father says, clueless. “You should save the work for Monday.”

“It’ll just take a minute,” she tells him with a smile—before grabbing my arm and dragging me away.

Once we’re in her office, Kate slams the door behind us. I straighten my sleeves, then smile benevolently. “If you wanted to be alone with me that badly, all you had to do was ask.”

She doesn’t appreciate my humor. “What are you doing, Drew?”

“Doing?”

“Why are you insulting Billy? Do you know how hard it was for me to get him to come here tonight?”

Poor Billy. Stuck in a room with the big bad successful bankers.

“Then why did you frigging bring him?”

“He’s my fiancé.”

“He’s an *.”

She looks up sharply. “Billy and I have been through a lot together. You don’t know him.”

“I know he’s not good enough for you. Not by a long shot.”

“Please stop trying to embarrass him.”

“I was just pointing out the facts. If the truth embarrasses your boyfriend, then that’s his problem, not mine.”

“Is this a jealously thing?”

For the record? I have never been jealous a day in my life. Just because when I see them together I can’t decide if I want to puke or punch his f*cking lights out—she calls that jealousy?

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I know you have this thing for me, but—”

Wait one goddamn minute. Let’s back the f*ck up, shall we?

“I have a thing for you? I’m sorry, was it my hand grabbing your crotch in my office a couple months back? Because I remember it the other way around.”

And now she’s pissed. “You’re such a bastard sometimes.”

“Well, then we’re a perfect fit, ’cause you’re a first-class bitch most of the time.”

Fire dances in her eyes as she raises her half-filled glass.

“Don’t you f*cking dare. You throw that drink at me, I’m not responsible for what I do after.”

I’ll give you a minute to guess what she does...





Yep. She threw the drink at me.

“Goddamnit!” I grab the tissues from her desk and wipe my dripping face.

“I’m not one of your random sluts! Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

My face is dry, but my shirt and jacket are still soaked. I throw the tissues down. “Doesn’t matter. I’m leaving anyway. I have a date to get to.”

She scoffs, “A date? Wouldn’t a date involve actual conversation? Don’t you mean you have a quick f*ck to get to?”

I close my hands around her waist and pull her in. In a low voice I tell her, “My f*cks are never quick—they’re long and thorough. And you should be careful, Kate. Now you’re the one who sounds jealous.”

Her palms are flat against my chest, and my face is just inches from hers.