Page 7 of Rev

I. Want. That.

I decide, then and there, watching Angel and Miguel make out and whisper to each other, that I will find that for myself.

My heart may be broken.

My life may be in shambles.

But darn it all, Iwillfind love like that. A man like Miguel, who’ll pick me up and spin me around and kiss me silly, not caring who’s watching. A man who’s all man, but who’ll murmur sweet things to me like that.

Miguel finally sets Angel down, and she crosses to me, heels clacking noisily. “You didn’t try to steal my man, did you?” she asks with a grin, stealing a sip of my drink. “Ooh, he made you a Beach Fuck. Good shit, huh?”

I grin, blushing at the name. “Uh, yeah. The name is…I’m not sure about the name. But it’s yummy.”

“It’s yummy,” she says, cackling. “Miggy, you hear that? She thinks your Beach Fuck is yummy.” She takes another healthy sip of my drink. “Come on, Carolina. We got a party to get to.”

“I have to pay my tab,” I say, digging my wallet from my clutch. “And…you’re dressed fancier than me. Am I underdressed?”

She waves me off, shoving my wallet, still in my hand, back into my purse. “It’s cool, right, Miggy?”

Miguel grins at me. And good gracious, what a smile he has. Either I’m tipsy, or I have a little crush. “On me,guapa.”

“Well, thank you, Miguel. I’ll come in again, and I’ll pay.” I toss a ten on the counter anyway.

He pockets it. “I’ll look for you.”

Angel blows a kiss at Miguel, and then hauls me out the door. To me, she says, “You’re dressed perfect. I just believe in dressing to kill no matter where I go—except when I’m driving. I gotta be comfortable when I drive. Everywhere else, I gotta lookgood.” She looks me over. “And girl, you’re workin’ those shorts. Miggy ain’t callin’ youguapafor nothin’.”

“He called me that several times. What does it mean?”

“Pretty, or beautiful.”

I blush. “Oh.”

She bursts out laughing. “Awww, you blushin’. He’s my honey, but he’s flirty as hell. I just know he comes home and gets intomybed at night, so I don’t worry about him flirtin’.”

We’re walking, cutting down a side street, hustling. She can really move in those heels, and they’re four inches at least. Another turn, and then we’re at a hotel, a nice one. There’s a huge bus idling at the door, the kind with the tinted windows and the lights inside, music bumping. There’s a stream of girls going from the hotel entrance to the bus, and one of them sees Angel and squeals, cuts out of line and hurries over—or, hurries as best she can in a tiny, tight dress and monster heels. She’s the bride, evidenced by the white sash with “Bride” embroidered in gold lettering hung across her peach dress, which covers everything but leaves little to the imagination.

“Angel, you made it! Girl, you arealwayslate.”

“Hey, I was workin’, and then getting ready. Takes time to get from worker mice to killer queen.” Angel gestures to me. “Cassie, this is my new friend, Myka. It’s cool I brought her, yeah?”

Cassie leans in and hugs me, and then kisses both of my cheeks. “Of course! The more the merrier, you know that, bitch.”

Angel elbows me. “What’d I tell you she’d say?”

I do my best to match Cassie’s air kisses. “I can’t thank you enough for having me along, Cassie. And congratulations! I hope you and your fiancé aresohappy together.”

“Thank you! I know we will be.” She glances at Angel. “Where’d you find her?”

“A ride. Something about her just said good people, and I felt like she needed friends.”

Cassie slides between Angel and me, guiding us to the bus. “Well, you’re never wrong about people.”

“Miguel said the same thing about her,” I say.

Cassie shrugs. “Her name is also a great description of her. She just seems to know people.”

Angel snorts. “Girl, you been with me when I’m sure as hell no angel.”