This is the only fancy outfit I have, and I only have it because I was invited to a party at Club Rico last year. It’s a silver sparkly number that falls to mid-thigh.
The shoes I bought to go with it are high heels with a dozen black suede straps and a zipper up the heel. They look killer and make my legs look long and lean.
It’s the best I can do.
I run a hand through my blonde curls and put on some dark eyeshadow.
A knock at the door has me rushing. I grab a bottle of perfume and spritz, then hurry out to answer.
When I swing the door wide, Keno stands there in his usual attire.
His eyes trail down my body.
“Wow. You look sexy as hell.”
For some reason he doesn’t look too pleased, and I swallow.
“Is it wrong? Should I change?”
“Nope. You’ll be the prettiest girl there. Come on.”
He leads me downstairs, and I pause at his bike, wondering how I’m going to ride it.
“Maybe I didn’t think this through.”
He grins and passes me a helmet. “Too late now.”
“But how will I ride?”
“Just hike your skirt up and climb on,” he says, swinging his leg over.
I bite my lip.
“Be brave, Six.”
With that, I climb on and scoot close to him so no one can see up my skirt.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull into the clubhouse lot.
It’s packed with bikes and vehicles, reminding me that this is an open party.
Keno finds a parking spot and backs in.
I climb off and Keno takes my hand.
“Slow,” I say. “Gravel is not made for heels.” I teeter on four-inch spikes, grabbing Keno’s arm to keep from falling.
“I can solve that problem.” Keno sweeps me into his arms, and I squeal.
“Don’t drop me.”
He stares into my face. “You really think I would ever drop you?”
He sets me on my feet when we reach the long, covered porch. Music throbs through the air the minute we’re through the door. The place is packed, and he takes my hand.
I follow behind his broad shoulders as he makes a path for us to the bar.
We weave our way through the crowd to the far end, where I see Rock holding court with his officers around him.