Page 15 of The Biker and the Baker

“I was supposed to haveonebeer!” she argues. “Youfed me buckets of champagne and now I’m on a merry-go-round.”

Kim, being the good girl in our gang, is forever the designated driver when we go out, as she never has more than one beer, but little miss Catholic went wild tonight.

“Sooooo…Uber then?” Mira drawls.

“Lyft,” Lissa counters.

Digging my phone out of my clutch, I mumble, “I’ll book one.”

There are missed calls from Calvin, along with a few text messages on my screen.

Cal:I had to leave early. Emergency at home.

Cal:Can we meet up tomorrow? I really miss you.

Cal:P.S. You were looking way too sexy tonight.You’re making me wanna kidnap you and keep you all to myself.

Ugh. I delete them all. The D is good but the man is trash.

I’m pulling up the Lyft app when a scarily tall man with straggly shoulder-length blond hair comes up to us. Or rather, me.

“Hi. Are you Pia?” Despite his thuggish appearance, his disposition is affable and his voice is kind.

Eyeing him suspiciously, I take a protective stance in front of my girls. “Who’s asking?”

“Oh, I’m Mice.” He holds his hand out for me to shake but I don’t take it. “I was asked to see to it that you and your friends got home safely.” He points to a white Hummer limo parked across the street, all aglow with purple light underneath.

“Whoa,” Mira whispers under her breath.

“Asked by who?” I demand to know. Better not be Cal—

“Onyx.”

This momentarily shocks me. Then I drunk-giggle. Followed by a hiccup. “You’re joking, right?”

Mice frowns. “No, Ma’am.”

“Pia,” I correct. “And you can tell that rat bastard Onyx I said thanks, but no thanks.”

Mice seems a little taken aback, as if no one’s ever told him no before. “Oh, okay. Of course.”

As he leaves us, Lissa brushes up next to me and shoves her mouth to my ear, drunk as hell. “I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or what, but I’m kinda feeling Mice.”

I laugh. “Girl, you’d have to order a crane to get on that dick.”

“And holy moly, can you imagine his size?” Mira chimes in, looking horrified.

Lissa juts up her chin as if accepting a challenge. “I can handle tall things. Large things. Thick things. I have a wunderhole.”

Mira, Kim, and I dissolve into a fit of giggles, our drunken brains finding her words much funnier than they are.

When I recover with glassy eyes, Mice is there in front of us again. He holds his phone out to me. “Boss wants to talk to you.”

What the hell is that jerk’s problem? Annoyed, I snatch the proffered phone from Mice’s hand and sing into it, “Why’re you so obsessed with meeeee, dickhead I wanna know…”

A noisy sigh on the other end. “You’re all drunk as shit, Pia. Let Mice take you home.”

“What do you care?” I half hiss, half slur. “And where did you get a Hummer limo? Did you steal it? Are you a drug dealer? You do look like a criminal…”