First Girl Gone(53)

“Really? No argument? What kind of lawyer are you, anyway?”

“Hey, if a lady demands I take her to a venue where other ladies are removing their clothes, I don’t ask questions, and I certainly don’t argue.”

They made plans to meet up around eight—Will assured her the place would be busy that time of night—and said their goodbyes. Charlie ended the call, feeling giddy at the thought of seeing Will again.

Charlie climbed the rickety metal staircase back up to the apartment.

“You realize you always think of it as the apartment?”

“What?”

“The apartment. Not your apartment. Like you’ve still got one foot out the door. Ready to flee Salem Island if things get too intense or something.”

Charlie ignored this. Who cared what she called the place or how at home she felt… or didn’t? She was here, wasn’t she?

Besides that, she had bigger things to worry about, like how to disguise herself so the bouncers at the Red Velvet Lounge wouldn’t recognize her.



An hour before Will was scheduled to pick her up, Charlie started to get ready. She showered, shaved her legs, and slid into an old gold dress of Allie’s. Hair hanging in wet ropes, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror for a long while, trying to figure out what to do with it. Allie flitted around in the background, full of nervous energy.

“Go big or go home,” she said. “That’s my motto.”

Charlie pulled out a blow dryer, curling iron, hairspray, and a comb and got to work. Every time she paused in the process of teasing and spraying, Allie said, “More.”

When she finished, her hair was arranged in a wavy cloud that flipped to one side. She leaned forward and pinched a tuft of hair sticking up in the front. It was crispy from all the hairspray she’d used to plaster it in place.

“You look like you should be backstage at a M?tley Crüe concert,” Allie said. “Trying to blow, like, the guitarist or something.”

The description was accurate enough, Charlie thought. Between the dress, hair, and makeup, she was looking particularly late eighties or early nineties at the moment—a ploy she hoped would help her get past security at the club, especially with Will at her side as her fake date. She thought back to the last bit Allie had said.

“Wait. Why the guitarist?”

“I don’t know. He’s the least famous, I think. Don’t even know his name. Let’s be real. You’re not Nikki Sixx material, Charlie.”

Charlie looked at herself in the mirror again. She thought she looked sufficiently unrecognizable, though it was hard to be certain. The makeup probably disguised her the most. She’d applied the foundation in a thick enough coat that she could have spackled over a hole in a wall. It gave her face an overall plastic look. Fake and airbrushed.

A few minutes before eight, there was a knock on the door. Charlie snatched up a pair of heeled boots on her way to answer it.

Will stepped back from the door at the sight of her, eyes wide.

“Well, hello there.”

She spun in a circle.

“What do you think? Am I incognito?”

“Yeah, I don’t think we have to worry about you being recognized. The bouncer is going to take one look at you and think, ‘Paid company.’”

“Nice,” Charlie said, tugging on one of the boots. “Hooker chic. That’s definitely the look I was going for.”

“Whoa there, don’t sell yourself short. You don’t just look like any old hooker. You look like a very expensive hooker.”

Charlie rolled her eyes.

“Oh, that’s so much better. Thank you.”

When she had squeezed into the second boot, Will grasped her by the wrist and pulled her closer, pressing his mouth to hers. Her pulse sped up as his hands slid around her waist. She pressed her body against his, and for a moment she was tempted to yank him backward onto the mattress.

But eventually, something jolted her back to reality, because she caught herself taking a step away from him, breaking the spell.

“You’re going to mess up my makeup,” she said, wiping her lips. “I appreciate that you’re doing this, though. It’s a big help.”

“Hey, taking a beautiful woman on a date in the name of truth, justice, and the American way? Not a problem.”





Chapter Forty





A little thrill of excitement ran through Charlie as she crossed the parking lot to Will’s Lincoln. The club would have answers. It had to. And this time, she’d actually be able to get inside.

But almost as soon as Will steered the car onto the main road leading off Salem Island, Charlie’s confidence began to wane. The bouncers had caught her sneaking in. What if one of them recognized her, even with the disguise?

She flipped down the sun visor and checked her reflection in the small, lit mirror. Maybe it was the change in lighting, but her makeup was even more ridiculous than she remembered. Still, she barely recognized herself, so hopefully that meant the bouncers wouldn’t either. She folded the visor up and settled into her seat.

As they pulled into the lot of the Red Velvet Lounge, Charlie plucked a pair of sunglasses from her purse, trying to decide if wearing them at night would make her more or less conspicuous to the bouncer.

“Aw,” Allie said. “Seems like a waste to cover up your handiwork. I’ve seen you spread peanut butter on a sandwich more conservatively than the raccoon-looking crap you smudged around your eyes.”