His Son. Her Secret.

Chapter 28

The bass was a living, breathing beast inside the Purple Kitty club. It thrummed through the floor, climbed up through the soles of Beth's heels, and rattled somewhere behind her sternum.

The place was fully open for business on a Saturday night. The lights pulsed in lazy, hypnotic waves of violet, then deep red, then a blue so dark it was almost black. As for the crowd packed like sardines, they moved beneath them like something boneless and content. Bodies were pressed together so tightly that Beth was certain some people were doing more than just dancing.

Smell and air temperature were helpfully managed by the circulating air pumped by all the state-of-the-art air-conditioners, but there was only so much the machines could do.

Still, all around her, the fun continued. Glasses raised. Laughter was swallowed by the music before it could travel three feet.

Beth pretended to watch it all, but her focus was on the bouncer who stood by the east corridor. The behemoth of a man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes never straying from the dance floor.

Swallowing hard, Beth checked her phone. 11:47 PM. Gosh! Only three minutes had passed since she last checked, which meant that Avi and Mal had been on the move for fourteen minutes.

Fighting the urge to groan out loud, she set her phone face down on the table, picked up her glass of soda, took a slow sip, and wished for the ten-thousandth time that it was something with a high alcohol content. Not that she believed alcohol was the best way to pass the time. Never that.

The absolutely last thing Beth ever wished for was to turn into her father, all hollowed out, consumed by the desperate kind of drinking that curdled everything it touched. No, what she wanted was just enough to smooth the sharp edges of a night like this one. Just enough to stop the cold sweat from crawling down the back of her neck every time one of the club bouncers so much as turned his head their way.

The dress didn't help either. To say that it wasn’t her usual attire would have been an understatement, if ever she’d heard one. In fact, in her opinion, the tiny, red piece of material that was masquerading as a dress didn’t deserve the label. Of course, it had been Mal's idea, which should have been reason enough to burn it.

The heels were Belle's contribution, a strappy pair of gold things with a heel Beth was fairly certain could be classified as a weapon, which would have been comforting if she hadn't been the one wearing them.

She felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the hemline. Like she'd walked into a room having forgotten how to pretend.

Across the small table, however, Belle looked perfectly at ease. But that was the thing about Belle, she could wear any face the situation required and wear it beautifully. Tonight she was bright-eyed and loose-shouldered, a glass of something sparkling held loosely in one hand while her gaze moved over the room with the lazy pleasure of a woman who had nowhere else to be.

No one would guess that underneath the table, her other hand held her phone, and her thumb moved in quiet, deliberate strokes as she monitored the camera feeds she'd patched into earlier that afternoon.

Just then, Beth startled as some women shouted and threw up their hands as the DJ changed the music to some new Hip Hop release Beth vaguely recognised. Grinding her teeth, she looked away from the people having fun and once again glanced at the nearest exit. Could she run in these heels and be out that door in under a minute if the need arose?

“Stop glaring at the exits,” Belle muttered without looking away from the dancefloor, her demeanor not faltering. “You look like you’re waiting to assassinate someone.”

Beth exhaled slowly. “I hate this place.” And the plan, but she didn’t need to say the last part.

Belle shot her a look and then returned to her people watching without saying a word. Trying to follow suit, Beth looked around. For some reason, her eyes landed on a pair seated by the bar. Her pulse skipped when she realized the men were watching them.

However, before she could panic, one of the men leaned toward the other and said something to his friend, and then gave a nod in their direction. Her jaw tightened. Oh, she had a feeling. Yep. Sure enough, after a beat, the man stood and came over.

Unable to help herself, Beth assessed him with every step he took. He wasn’t bad to look at, even if his attitude gave off arrogant vibes long before he reached their table. Broad-shouldered, the man moved with the particular confident looseness of a man who had never once been told no in a place like this. And when he stopped, he leaned one hand on the edge of their table and gave them both a smile.

“Well, now I understand why every man in this club keeps looking over here. Can I get you ladies something?" he said in a deep voice that was audible even with the music.

"No thanks. We're good," Beth clipped, hoping to be done with this before it even started.

No such luck. "You sure? You look like you could use something stronger than…" he glanced at her glass. "Whatever that is."

"We're sure," Belle said, sweet as anything. "But thank you." Always the diplomatic one.

Unfortunately, it was wasted. The man refused to take the obvious hint and leave. Instead, he looked between them before settling on Beth like she was his chosen victim. “Come on, beautiful,” he pressed, leaning a little closer to her, “What are you drinking?”

“Regret,” Beth deadpanned.

Belle nearly choked on her cocktail. The man blinked. Pleased with herself and maybe enjoying the reaction a little bit more than she should, Beth took another sip of her soda.

To his credit, he recovered quickly. “That bad of a night, huh? Maybe I can improve it.”

“No,” both women said at once.

He looked mildly offended, and just when Beth began to fear he would be even more of a pest, the man raised both hands in surrender. “Alright. Rejection accepted. You ladies enjoy your night.”

Belle waited until he disappeared into the crowd before snorting loudly. “Regret?” she repeated.

Beth shrugged. “It was honest.”

Belle shook her head, laughing softly before her expression shifted slightly. “Speaking of men…What is happening with your love life?"

Beth blinked. "What?" Her heart jumped again because, for some insane reason, her mind had gone straight to Santiago, and that was just plain insane. Thankfully, her friend spoke before she gave herself away.

"You haven't been on your phone for days." Belle tilted her head, studying her. "Like, at all. Not checking it every four minutes, not half-smiling at nothing, not getting annoyed when someone texts you at a bad time. That's the tell, you know. When you go quiet on your phone, it means you're single again." She paused. "Are you single again?"

Beth exhaled through her nose. What the hell. There was no point hiding it, no matter how much bile threatened to climb up her throat just thinking about it. "Philip was married," she blurted out.

Belle's expression shifted to sympathy in a blink. "Beth."

She cringed. "I know."

"Damn. How long?"

"How long had he been married? Oh, long enough to have kids." She turned her glass slowly on the table. "I didn't know. I want to be clear about that. I didn't know the bastard had a wife."

"I know you didn't." Belle's voice was gentle. "Are you heartbroken?"

Beth considered the question seriously, the way it deserved. Thought about Philip's face in the grocery store aisle. Thought about the easy, practiced way he'd tried to explain it to her. ‘Our relationship is separate from my marriage.’ Like that was a sentence a reasonable person could say out loud and expect to be heard without contempt.

"No," she said. "I'm disgusted. With him, and with myself, for not seeing it sooner. For being in that position in the first place." Suppressing a shudder, she picked up her glass. "I feel stupid. That's worse than being heartbroken, honestly."

“Please tell me you keyed his car.”

“I considered setting him on fire.”

“Reasonable.” Belle was quiet for a moment. Then she added, "I could run a background check on the next one."

Beth laughed, a real one, short and surprised. "Yeah?"

"I'm serious. Full workup. Employment history, financial records, marital status, and any outstanding warrants."

"You can't run background checks on every man I date, Belle."

"Watch me." She said it so serenely that Beth laughed again, and for a moment the cold sweat retreated, and the music was just music, and the lights were just lights.

"What about you?" Beth asked. "Anyone?"

Belle shook her head. Just that, a small, uncomplicated motion, no explanation offered. Beth didn't push. She knew better than to push Belle on things she held close.

"I think we're cursed," Beth said instead. "All of us. Genuinely. Like, cosmically." She gestured vaguely at the club they were in. "We… Do morally wrong things for a living, and we can't find one decent person between the four of us. That's karmic justice. That's the universe keeping score."

Belle's mouth curved. "Don't be dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic, I'm being accurate."

"The right person comes along when you stop looking for them in the wrong places."

"That is the most fortune-cookie thing you have ever said to me."

"I stand by it." Belle glanced briefly at her phone under the table, checked something, and glanced back up. "Stop spiraling. Avi and Mal are fine. Everything's fine."

"I didn't say anything about Avi and Mal."

"You didn't have to." Belle gave her a look. "You've checked the east corridor bouncer eleven times since we sat down. I counted."

Beth opened her mouth. Then closed it. Suddenly, there was a CRASH!