Page 17 of Rogue's Path

“All of my writing group was invited to tonight’s festivities and Knight is one of us.”

I should look away and give them privacy for this conversation. But it kind of feels like a car wreck that you can’t take your eyes off of even knowing you should look away.

“If he goes, I should be able to.”

“No.” Dahlia pushes up on her toes and gives him a peck on his lips. “Now go have fun with your friends. We’ll be home before sunrise. Hopefully.”

Just how much of that list does she want to check off?

I peek over at Knight. This has got to be very uncomfortable for him. The mercurial man stands there half-smirking, half-smiling, like it’s to be expected that people will fight over him all the time.

That’s such a Knight thing to do.

He wanders over to Daria. The two of them fall into a comfortable world of their own. He’s older than her, but they would make a cute couple.

“What’s his story?” Winnie asks from right next to me.

Has she been there all along? How did I miss her? “Knight’s?” I don’t wait for her to clarify her question, because there’s no way I’m even trying to explain Maverick. “I don’t know.” Daria might know, but I doubt she’ll spill. Visually, he’s a series of contrasts. When he walked in the door, Knight embodied a slick player. Now, he’s morphed into a friend. His dedication to empathetic charity work could only be from someone who suffered agonizing pain. Knight without a shirt…

With as wild as tonight might get, it’s possible that could happen again. The new people might go feral. Who am I kidding? I might too.

It’s going to be one interesting night.

Pre Bachelorette Party

Dylan

This upscale bar in the middle of Urbium wasn’t quite what I expected when reading Dahlia’s list. The only fun things in this sleek place are the pink drinks in front of us. We had a choice of Shirley Temples or strawberry martinis. Most people took the martinis, but there’s no way I want to end up flat on my face at the end of the night. Someone needs to make sure that this group doesn’t go too wild.

Cordelia, the woman in the sequined fifties dress, is sitting next to me. I should make small talk. It’s not like I’m terrible at it, but what do I even say to someone like her? Because what I want to do is ask all the intrusive questions that have been popping into my mind.

Like, why all the costumes? Though, to be fair, that style looks phenomenal on her figure.

Do you want to draw attention to yourself or away from you to your outfit?

Hmmm. She’d make an interesting character. A trad wife surrounded by a group of… compared to her most of us probably look like prostitutes…maybe more like ladies on the prowl. That sounds the same as prostitutes. My skirt isn’t that short.

How would I even write this one?

Maybe Cordelia was the madam…

Nope, I’ve gone a little loopy. “So what do you do?” Please say you aren’t married with nine million kids. I might not be able to control my reaction. Though she seems like she’d be a great mother.

“Bake cakes. Well, it’s more than that. I decorate special event cakes and cupcakes. And occasionally cake pops, since I don’t like wasting the excess cake.”

Well, that sounds like a yummy job. How is she not 600lbs? I’d be the size of a house surrounded by sweets all day. Cordelia isn’t skin and bones like Ottilie, the notebook girl. She’s average, maybe closer to me. Work means I sit all day long, never quite getting the exercise I need to have the ‘perfect’ figure. My aunt-mother would say I got the secretary spread, but I couldn’t care in the least about those last ten pounds. “That sounds like fun.”

“It is.” She takes a sip of her martini. “It’s sweet art mixed with chemistry. And my workplace always smells amazing.”

Mine usually does too. Except when I forget to shower and eat because I’m so deep in a book nothing else exists. Then…it’s a good thing there’s no one else around to smell me.

Dahlia stands up, drawing everyone’s attention. “Many of you know I made a list of wild things to try. This place seems like the perfect place to Get Someone’s Number. So that’s the challenge. Mingle, meet people, and get them to give you their number.”

“That sounds too easy. Especially for him.” Savie points her needle at Knight. “We should make it challenging. The one with the most numbers in an hour gets to wear the crown at our next stop.”

Say no.

“That sounds like fun!” Winnie, the traitor, says.