S H A D E S

Girl Code

The ride home I spent working over the conversation with Tristan in my head. Unsettled and emotionally drained, I wasn't sure how much more I could take in twenty-four hours. By the time I'd reached my apartment, I'd only just plugged in my phone to charge when the screen lit up and screamed a litany of pulses and tones.

"Sh!t." I thumbed through the notifications and messages, realizing I'd been so caught up in Tristan I'd failed to take into account one, important detail: news of Anthony had spread and word had reached Jacqueline's ears. And she'd devoted the last twelve hours to raising Hell.

I punched in a quick apologetic text, letting her know I was home and safe. Checking my watch, I guessed I had maybe twenty-five minutes before she showed up at my doorstep shooting brimstone and questions.

She made it to my place in under twenty-two.

"Christ's f-cking left testicle, Laura, where the hell have you been?" Jacqueline blazed into my apartment, a fiery ball of fury and female concern. "I've been blowing up your phone since Saturday evening."

"I was caught up," I apologized, locking my door.

"Since when do you turn off your phone?" She tossed down her purse on my couch so she could plant indignant fists on her hips.

"I didn't, it died."

Jacqueline shot up a disbelieving brow. "You? Never. Not in a million years."

"It did. Honest." I held up a hand in a Girl Scout's salute, crossing over towards my kitchen for the token bottle of wine. "I wasn't home and without a charger so—"

"Then where the hell were you?" Jacqueline demanded, hot on my heels.

I held the bottle of Pinot Noir then decided if I was going to have this conversation, we needed something stiffer than wine. Opening my liquor cabinet, I pulled out the golden bottle of Patron.

"We're going to need some limes."

A couple of shots later and a bowl of gummy worms between us, I licked salt off the back of my hand and knocked down shot number four. Puckering against the abrasive taste of tequila, I reached for a wedge and bit down on the citrus slice until the sour juice overpowered the booze.

"Slut," Jacqueline slurred with a laugh. "Six weeks? And I'm only hearing about this now?"

I giggled, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. "I signed an agreement, 'kay? I was sworn to secrecy."

"Don't f-ckin' care!" Jacqueline wagged an admonishing finger in my face. "Girl code negates any written f-ckin' contract, m'kay? Chicks before dicks, slut. Remember that." To seal her point, she knocked down her fourth shot and I watched as her eyes wheeled in her skull.

"You're right. You're right. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't. And now you're gonna give me some dirt. I want details, b!tch. Scandalous, dirty and sexy details." She wiggled devious brows, twirling a gummy worm with her tongue. "Is he big?"

"Yes, and no—not bigger than Sebastian, thank god," I snorted in relief, because contrary to what they said in books, there was such as thing as too damn big. "But enough to do the job and do it oh so good."

Biting her worm in half, Jacqueline groaned.

"I could suck him off for hours," I sighed. "It's so f-cking...perfect. And the look he gets on his face, right before he comes, I swear...I almost get off just watching him."

"Mmm. So tell me, is all the kinky-talk about him true?"

I shook my head, swiping a finger across my lips. "I can't go in to details, babe. I can't. But maybe when my head stops spinning I'll tell you a little story involving a little jar of butterscotch."

"Oh, you b!tch," Jacqueline laughed. "I hate that you're getting laid regularly when I've been dry now for almost four months. It's unjust."

"What about Mark?"

"From the Toronto Stock Exchange?"

"One and the same."

Jacqueline reached for another gummy worm, shrugged. "Suppose I could. Take off for a weekend and indulge in dinner and hot sex. No strings."

"Why not? Dudes pull that shit all the time when they're horny." Burping, I wrinkled my nose as the unpleasant after taste of tequila shot up my throat.

"Oh, no more. No more." Capping the wide cork on the bottle, I opened my fridge and fumbled around for a bottle of water. Removing the cap, I took a long, deep swallow before passing it to Jacqueline's desperate hands.

"Dunno why I always let you sucker me into this," she paused for a long, deep drink. "Y'know I can't handle this...this stuff." Finishing the bottle she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Christ's left—no Christ's whole f-cking ball sack! I need to lie down." She rose on wobbly legs and staggered towards the couch where she plopped, face down. Deciding more water was needed, I found a couple extra bottles, then joined her, flopping down on the carpeted floor. Stretched on my back, I slapped a hand at her side, held out a bottle that she took with limp fingers.

"What do you think I should do about Tristan?" I sighed, levering up to my elbows.

"F-ck 'em." Jacqueline answered, face still pressed into pillows and cushion.

"Seriously."

Managing a wiggling sort of roll, she maneuvered onto her back and pressed the cool bottle of water to her forehead.

"Alright, seriously, I think you should take hold of his nuts and squeeze until he's at your mercy."

"That's not helpful, Jacs."

"Yes, it is. Think about it." She turned her head, bleary eyes locking with mine. "If this was anyone else, what would you do?"

I thought about it for a moment, my lips working into a smile. "Grab him by the balls and make him."

"Precisely." Please with herself, Jacqueline closed her eyes. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

Rolling my head on my shoulders, I opened my mouth with a jaw-cracking yawn. "Well, I've got a couple calls to make. Then there's the—"

"Wrong, b!tch. I'm sleeping over, cause my body is too damn drunk to move, and then when this sh!t finally does wear off, we're going to the spa. And shopping." A sliver of bloodshot whites flickered in my direction.

"We haven't had girl time in weeks. You owe me."

Lying back down, I smiled. My lids growing heavy with sleep. "Okay."

"And then right after that, you're going to haul ass over to Paul's place to fix that f-cking sh!t storm you created, cause all the Saints above, he's the best damn assistant you've ever had and the only one who can put up with you."

"Alright," I laughed. "Anything else?"

"Just one."

"Hm?"

"I f-ckin' love you, okay?"

Too tired to sit up, I reached out a hand, found hers. And squeezed. "I f-cking love you, too."