Page 29 of Switch

Oof.That stings…more than a little.I suppose I should applaud Daniel for being able to strike a blow without lifting a finger.It doesn’t help that he’s right.

Right or wrong, PJ is who I can’t get off my mind.

Another text alert pops up on my phone.

PJ:I’m at the Belle Argo Premiere for this charity gala to fund children’s cancer research, which is nice and all, but the theme is winter wonderland, which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense for Florida in July.

Fallon: That does sound ill advised.

PJ: They’ve got ice sculptures.Plural.This ballroom feels like a meat locker.All these rich fucks are wandering around in their fancy clothes, trying to look like they’re not freezing their asses off.You should see this shit

Fallon: Wish I could.

If I wish I were there instead of whatever nameless, faceless guy he’s with in my place, nobody needs to know that except me.Until I look up from my phone to find Daniel pinning me with a knowing smirk.

PJ: I’ll tell you all about it later.You want to FaceTime tonight?

I ignore Daniel’s pointed look.For good measure, I spend a solid four, maybe five seconds pretending I might say no before I type my reply.

Fallon: Yes.I’ll be home before midnight.

ChapterNine

PJ

The Baron the Corner (hand-painted sign, by the way) is a rotting wood-framed shack covered in a patchwork of particle board.The place is sketchy even by East End standards, with peeling paint and the sort of structural integrity that makes me wonder how it’s still standing in a coastal town that sees at least a couple of hurricanes and tropical storms per summer.

An hour ago, my pimp, Brennan, went inside.I’ve been waiting for him to come out.While I’d like to slip in and see what the guy’s up to, I know enough to know I wouldn’t blend in when I’m still wearing the clothes I wore for work tonight.Besides, I suspect the door stamp comes with a side of tetanus.

My phone pings in the cup holder.

Fallon: Could you come over tonight?Watch a movie or something.It’s been a day, and I could use a friend.

Shit.My pulse jumps.I’ve been waiting for this.

“Fucking finally.”

I grab my phone to answer, but all of a sudden, my passenger door opens, and Brennan slides inside.The gun in his hand?Pointed right at me.

My body freezes.

“I feel like you and I are overdue for a conversation,” he says.

There’s no activity across the street at the bar.Nobody’s come in or out.“Where the hell did you come from?”

“Newsflash, Nancy Drew, most business establishments have a back door, even when I’m using the term ‘establishment’ as loosely as I am now.And, pro tip: if you’re following someone, maybe don’t do it in a car with a missing rear bumper and a sticker on the passenger door that says, ‘Mystery Spot.’”

Dammit, Evans.He put that sticker on there because it was on his list of places he wanted us to go someday.Couldn’t bring myself to take it off.

“Who the hell is Nancy Drew?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

No, but maybe it’s best not to say so.I nod to the gun.“Are you going to shoot me?”

Brennan lowers the weapon but keeps it resting on his leg.“I’d rather not.You’re popular with some of the regulars, despite your refusal to give up your ass.”

My phone lights up with another text.It’s probably Fallon, and I want to answer, but while I roll my eyes at Brennan’s dig, it doesn’t seem like the best time to get distracted.