I can’t.
And I won’t.
Scarlett Priest is not for me. I need to get that fact through my thick fucking head. I shove my phone in my pocket, grab Roux’s leash, and walk to the door.
Maybe the six-mile loop we take around the city will be enough to get her off my mind. Probably not. That would take a walk all the way home to Biloxi and back.
The gym, it is. Because nothing but a punishing workout could take my mind off the woman who has taken up permanent residence in it. Maybe, just maybe, if I’m exhausted, my brain will give up these ridiculous fucking ideas. I’m too old to believe in fairy tales.
Scarlett Priest will come, hopefully save my club, and then she’ll go home to her fucking boyfriend. That’s just how it’s going to be.
“Come on, Roux. Let’s go beat the shit out of the heavy bag and get you some treats.”
Twenty-Six
Scarlett
“You lookamazing.”
Monroe squeals as I walk out of the bedroom and into the living room of my apartment.
“Like,holy shitballs,if I were a dude, I’d be trying to bang you up against a wall in a dark corner of the club. I wouldn’t care who saw, though, because I’d have my dick so deep in the hottest bitch I’ve ever seen.”
Harlow interjects. “Actually, if you were a dude who was into banging girls in clubs, you’d probably want someone to see, because presumably, you’d get off on that kind of thing. And Scar can totally do it now that she’s broken up with Chadwick-the-dick!”
His name is a jarring reminder of the strange, yet exciting and invigorating turn my life has taken in the past few days.
I’m not Good Scarlett with the perfect life and boyfriend tonight.
No, because first off, I blocked his number like any normal person would do after a breakup. Secondly, I haven’t thought about him much at all, and I have zero regrets. All of which confirms I made the right choice.
Tonight, I’m just a girl who’s going to go do something a little bit crazy and, hopefully, help someone who needs it. Maybe not Good Scarlett, but not exactly Bad Scarlett either. Tonight, I’m New Scarlett.
“That means my job here is done,” Kelsey says, unhooking the belt around her waist that holds the pouch with all her makeup brushes. “You have passed theMar-Lowtest.”
Mar-Low is what she calls Monroe and Harlow when they’re together and drunk. Which they shouldn’t be already, but Kelsey and I took longer than planned. I glance at the antique gilt-edged mirror hanging above the sideboard and smile into the aged glass.
“You’re always amazing, Kels. But tonight, you killed it. I looksmokin’ hot.”
“Of course you do. That’s my job. Now, let’s get to the club so those paps I tipped off have something to photograph. Except, wait. Hold it right there. That downlight is incredible. I need a pic for social media or it doesn’t count, right?”
I hold still and look down, to the side, and then coyly at her from under my lashes while she snaps photos.
We’re not even out the door when she turns around and smiles at me. “Posted. And now everyone knows that my girl is headed to Legend, soon to be the hottest club in town.”
Harlow and Monroe throw their arms into the air and do a victory dance they probably learned from watching sports with their husbands. “Let’s do this, girls!”
Thirty-five minutes later, we’re rolling up to a club that doesn’t exactly have a line out front, but there is a small group of people milling around the two dark-suited men at the doors.
Inside the black Range Rover, Kelsey smiles at me and squeezes my hand. “You ready for this? Because you’re about to make the biggest statement you’ve made outside Curated in a long time.”
I let the wrap slip off my shoulders to reveal my vintage House of Scarlett dress—in my mother’s signature color,red.
Red isn’t normally my color, but tonight, I felt the need to go bold. Even Kelsey was surprised when I laid it out on the bed and asked for a statement lip in the exact same shade.
“I’m ready.”
“Then let’s do this, girl.” She shoots a text to Harlow and Monroe, who are in the matching Range Rover behind us—for the sole purpose of making a statement entrance—and let them know that it’s go time.