Topped (14 page)

Armed with a Jameson and Coke, I survey the room, looking for that little minx. I mean that little rat. Wrong rodent. Whatever. Is that her banging body in the sexy little black dress and Mardi Gras mask…? Nope. Too tall. Not that I’ve memorized her body or anything. Maybe the Jessica Rabbit? Fuck, that’s hot. That costume has fallen out of favor, but she was the first cartoon I ever jerked off to. She set the bar high.

Don’t look at me like that. I write weird porn, what else would you expect? #nojudgies

More slinky dresses and Mardi Gras masks. It’s like there was a sale or something. We’re supposed to be a room full of some of the most creative minds in our population! Spice it up! Oh, there’s a TARDIS, boxy and everything. Is Miranda nerdy enough to be down with the TARDIS?

Who am I kidding? She cries over wine. That girl is the geekiest of them all. I follow the TARDIS around the room, and I’m fairly certain it’s her. Of course it would be. A big, bulky costume in which to hide, so she could enjoy the party without running into me? Well, I’m on to you, Randi Rose. Get ready for the apocalypse.

“Think you can honestly hide from me?” I step out in front of her, arms crossed. “You aren’t that clever.”

“Fuck off, Trump,” says a distinctly male voice. Shit. I’m off my game.

“Uh, sorry. I thought you were someone else…” I walk away as the TARDIS flips me off. Guy has some nice calves, though.

Back to surveying the room. Lots of gorgeous bodies floating around out there, but none of them feel right. They don’t sing the way Miranda’s body does. Not that I ever would equate her body to music or poetry or a beautiful work of art.

Shut up, self.

Maybe she’s just not here yet. Time to refill. Second Jameson in hand, I look back to the door and stop dead. In walks a short rainbow dinosaur. Oh my god, this has to be her. Did she do this for me? She had to do it for me. Why am I weirdly aroused?

Down, boy. Down!

Rainbow Dinosaur surveys the room and our eyes meet. My heart jumps and my dick jumps and every piece of me rebels against every idea of telling her what’s what. Instead, all I want to do is hold her in my arms, bulky dino costume and all. It’s her. And she’s coming straight for me.

H
e’s dressed as Trump
. Joe…although I guess he’s here as Charlie…is dressed as Trump. He dressed for me just as much as I dressed for him. Well, that makes my whole ignore-the-hell-out-of-him plan take a backseat. Okay, yes, dressing as a rainbow dinosaur in homage to one of my favorite…I mean, one of his most ridiculous “novels” makes it look like I was there for him, but I
wasn’t
. Jane just happened to have this costume in her closet. I chose not to ask questions since she hadn’t pried too hard into the Versace incident.

It took a whopping ten seconds for me to find him. And as soon as I saw him, and we locked eyes, it was like a freaking tractor beam. Every idea I had about ignoring him, or cornering him and reminding him that we already had our last time, goes out the window. My heart is winning, and all I want is him.

“Hi.” He’s the first to talk, which makes this a lot easier. I would feel like an idiot, a bigger idiot, if I had to say hello first. Pride, it’s a bitch. Jane was right, I have too much.

“Hi.” And suddenly I’m at a loss for words.

“Nice costume.”

“Oh.” I shrug. “Just an old thing I borrowed from a neighbor. Nice…mask.”

“I thought you’d like it.” I can see his crinkle lines along his eyes through the mask, and I can picture the smile. I melt a little. “So you just happened to come across a glittery rainbow dinosaur costume? At a neighbor’s? You’re an interesting girl, Miranda Rose.”

I shrug and pretend to wave him off. It’s suddenly very hot in my costume. “I’m a fascinating girl.” Wait, I don’t remember telling him my last name is Rose. I guess he doesn’t have another last name for me though.

“That you are.” His voice is husky and dangerous, and I want to mount him. He has this insane ability to mess with me. All I can think about are late nights full of skin and lips. I have to shake it off to keep my wits about me. A slow song starts pumping through the speakers, and everyone pairs off in the middle of the room. We stand awkwardly for a moment, and then he grabs my hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes.” I don’t even think twice. He holds out a hand, and I waddle in.

He twirls me to the center of the room and presses himself close to me. I can smell his cologne, feel his body through the padding in my costume. Dancing can be such a sensual activity, and it somehow feels even more so in our dinosaur and Trump costumes.

“I like your tail,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s very erotic.”

“I like your mask,” I whisper back. “It’s very sensual.”

“Gold digger.”

“Pervert.”

“You’ve read my books.”

“I plead the fifth.” He twirls me around in a complicated spin, and I almost take out the pair next to us with my tail. We both laugh. “Okay, okay. Maybe I’ve read them. It’s hard to properly eviscerate something you haven’t read, after all.”

“You are basically my cover model for
Reamed by a Sparkly Rainbow Velociraptor
.” His eyes crinkle again. “Looks like you’ve enjoyed them.”

“It’s my favorite Shivers book,” I admit. Why, I don’t know. He makes me do crazy things, like enjoy myself while an early ‘90s love song plays through a crowd. “I mean, it’s the least worst one. Plus, my ass looks amazing in this.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to acting it out later,” he whispers throatily in my ear. “If you’re up for it.”

All I do is stick my tongue out, and he spins me around again. The song ends and he leads me to the bar. I get wine, he gets a Jameson, and we work our way to the back of the room.

“How was your conference week?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious again. “Learn a lot?”

“It’s been…interesting.” He slides his mask up over his hair so I can see his beautiful face. I stare at my wineglass to pretend I wasn’t staring, but I know he isn’t fooled. “Learned a lot, though. I thought I was doing well, marketing-wise, but it turns out there was a lot I didn’t know.”

“Same.” I try to sip my wine seductively, through my rubber-fanged mouth-hole. In retrospect, it’s hard to do a good seduction in a dino suit. I should have gone with the sexy dress and Mardi Gras mask route like everyone else seemed to do. Rivulets of self-doubt trickle through me. Did I overdo it in the costume? He seems to like it, but I’m not sure about my endgame anymore.

I mean, he did proposition me…but what if he was kidding? What if this whole thing sort of repulses him? Why am I so worried about it? Dammit, Miranda, stay in the present! Get out of your head!

He’s staring at me now, like he said something, and I was too busy being a ridiculous girl to hear it. I flash a smile and shrug a little, as if to say
whoops
.

“I know, I’m so good-looking it’s distracting.” He winks at me. “I asked how your week went. I didn’t see you there for a while.”

“Oh.” I feel myself blush. “I was super busy, working it. Trying to get my name out to the important people and all that. As you do. I didn’t see you, either.”

“I wasn’t ignoring
you
.” His look is very pointed, like he’s calling me out. Well, I’m not going to admit that I tried to ignore him and failed.

“I guess we just missed each other,” I try.

“Mmhmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

Well, shit. Did I just ruin everything? It hits me hard that I don’t want to ruin anything. I don’t want to lose him at the end of this evening. I want to keep him around as much as possible, which is a simultaneously nauseating and thrilling thought. Maybe enemies can become frenemies-with-bennies after all.

“Dance with me.” He turns to me, setting his glass down on an empty table. “I like having you in my arms.”

I drain my wine, dribbling a little, and try to hide it by turning away. I set my glass down and smile at him. “How can a girl say no to that?”

Because I can’t. I don’t want to, for one thing, and our time together may be fleeting. So fuck it, I decide. I’m going to enjoy this last evening with him before the clock strikes midnight, and all the magic of writers’ conferences and uniting enemies fades away. It’s time to take Jane’s advice and just enjoy myself.

Joe spins me back out to the center of the dance floor, which has recently cleared out due to an influx of bright-pink-badged agents. I should be with the others, vying for one last chance to make an impression, but I can’t make myself leave his side.

I don’t want to. So I won’t.

We stay for three songs, and I get totally lost in our bodies moving together. We laugh, we whisper, I may or may not get wet every time I feel his breath on my ear and neck. It’s like foreplay out here, stepping in time to the rhythm of our heartbeats and Savage Garden. “Truly, Madly, Deeply” speaks to me in this moment.

Suddenly, a hand grabs my arm and jerks me out of my embrace with the man I’m desperately trying not to fall head over heels for. That’s a lie. I’m already on my way. I turn towards the body who ruined our sweet moment and find Bethany Bonafont, of all people, wearing a Betty Boop costume and a nasty grin on her face.

“Bethany.” I force a smile. “Can I help you?” AKA, girl leave me to my sexytimes.

“Randi!” She air-kisses me, and I get the distinct feeling of treading water. I glance over at Joe, whose eyes narrow to slits behind his ridiculous mask. “Charlie! What a surprise to see you two together!”

“Not really,” Joe snarks.

Bethany ignores him and grabs my arm again. “I’m so in awe of you and your ability to let bygones be bygones. So impressive.” She looks absolutely poisonous.

I jerk my arm back and sidle up closer to Joe, making it clear we are together and don’t care what her stupid mouth has to say. “I know he trolls me, Bethany. To be fair, I do it to him, too. We’re stronger than that.”

Joe breathes something under his breath that sounds a lot like
snatchface.
Bethany doesn’t hear him, and I have to force myself not to burst into giggles. It’s actually a very funny insult when it’s not directed at me! As is Trapped Fart…you know, maybe I haven’t been giving Joe enough credit for how funny he is.

“I think you misunderstand me,” Bethany says. “It’s amazing how you can snuggle up to him, here in front of everyone, given what happened.”

“Just get to the point, Bethany.” I glare at her but paste on a smile. “Aren’t there people you should be talking to?”

She leans in conspiratorially. “You see, you were up for an RTW Award! Your last book was totally fabulous. But Mr. Shivers here was the judge that blocked you. Too bad, really. I mean, that typically translates into thousands of dollars’ worth of sales, but I guess his butt-banging is worth it, huh?”

The world drops away and I am frozen.

“You mean you didn’t know?” Bethany feigns surprise and guilt. I hate her. I hate her so much I want to punch her in the throat and rip her heart out. But then Charlie…

“Oh, how awful,” she continues. “I’m so sorry to break the news. But better to hear it now. Ta-ta!”

She melts into the crowd, and I’m left feeling like a ton of bricks just shattered around me. I drop Joe’s hand and stare at him for a minute. He’s got that awful fish face going, gaping mouth and all. He pulls off his mask and reaches for me, but I move away.

“Did you—you didn’t. Did you?” I can barely put together words right now.

“Miranda…” He reaches for me again, and my heart drops into my shoes. I feel dizzy and nauseous. “Listen—”

“Oh my god.” I take another step backward, stepping on someone’s toes and I don’t care. I don’t care about knocking shit over with my awkward tail. I don’t care about stepping on someone with my massive shoes. I don’t care about knocking over drinks and causing a riot. I’ve gone numb inside. “Oh my god. You did. You did, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you then.” He steps towards me, and I move back again.

“How…how could you?”

He holds out his hands in surrender. His face is a mess of confused emotions. I want to slap them all off so badly my hands itch.

“It’s nothing more than what you would have done to me! We were enemies, remember? We do this sort of thing to each other. It’s like our thing! It’s what we do!”

“I don’t block sales for you. I don’t steal awards from you.” My voice is as lethal as a knife, and I watch him stagger backwards. “I can’t believe you’d do something like this. I thought…I thought we were better than this.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Then explain to me what it
is
like,
Charlie
.”

“Don’t…don’t call me that. I’m Joe. Miranda. Please, just give me a chance to explain.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now!” My voice scrapes the bounds of yelling, and people are starting to stare. I feel tears forming, and my heart is racing and a distinct ringing sound erupts in my ears. “And all you can say is ‘listen’ and ‘we hated each other’ and
that
is your defense?”

“If I had known that we would, you know, come together like this, I never would have—”

“So, you would have let the nomination pass if I fucked you?” I hiss, spit flying, dotting his stupid suit with his stupid red tie and stupid mask.

“It’s not like that!”

“It’s exactly like that! I’m not an idiot.” I swallow a hard lump in my throat and see my entire world crashing behind him. “Or maybe I am. Maybe I’m an idiot for even entertaining the idea we could be together. Clearly, it’s a fucking terrible idea.”

“No, it’s not! We’re amazing together.”

I swallow down the rest of my broken pride and whisper, “I hate you.” Because I was all wrong before. I didn’t hate him then, I resented him. You can only truly hate someone you once loved. And I, fool that I was, had fallen.

“Please—”

I turn and flee, pushing bodies out of the way until I am free of the ballroom. He calls my name, and I keep running, stumbling over my stupid shoes in this stupid costume. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How stupid am I to imagine that anything else would happen? That he could teach me new things about myself?

He was right. We hate each other. This
is
what we do. Why should any of this surprise me?

But it does. It hurts so deep I can’t even fathom the cut. His voice eventually fades away as I push my way through the lobby and into the thick night air. I just need to go home. Fuck the awards ceremony at the end of the ball and the fuck the agents who don’t want to represent me anyway and fuck all the people who bore witness to the single most embarrassing moment of my life. Fuck Bethany Bonafont for being such a raging bitch she can’t stand to see me happy.

Most of all, fuck Joe—no, Charlie—for ruining
everything.

But most of all? Fuck my stupid heart for reaching out to someone who so clearly isn’t capable of real emotion. It’s not like I didn’t know it. I called him out on it at that damn strategy panel. I just let myself be blinded, by his dinosaur-sized dick, to the fact that his heart is the size of a walnut.

My head pounds and my vision blurs. I stumble next to my car and have to fumble for my keys. Out of the darkness, I hear him call my name again.

“Never talk to me again!” I yell, not even looking. I throw myself into the car, folding my tail beneath me, lock the doors, and cry. I cry so hard my head throbs, and I nearly fall over sideways. But I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t let him think he got to me, that these tears are for him, even though each is carved with his stupid initials.

It’s time to go home. It’s time to huddle in a hot bath with a glass of wine and pretend that this entire, godawful week is over. The mental revisions may require a lobotomy this time around.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” I warble and scrape enough tears from my eyes to back up and pull out of the hotel parking lot.

You know that moment in the movies, where it looks like all hope is lost, but there is still that small part of you hoping the couple will pull through?

Well fuck that moment, too. There is no happy ending here. There is no rescuing moment. Charlie Shivers ruined my life. He made me the laughing stock of the whole fucking conference. If Bethany Bonafont knows, now the entire conference knows. Everyone will know that I was shacking up with the man who denied me the one thing that could have changed the trajectory of my career, the only thing I ever wanted.