Read Online Courtship of the Cake by Jessica Topper - Free Book Online Page A

coaxing a silken spiral through the chain link to his side of the fence. “How about a drink?”
    I held the base of the bottle up, and his throat throbbed as he took fluid swallows. Meanwhile, all conversation had stopped on my side of the fence, as my co-workers watched the festival’s hottest act drain half a bottle of their hard-earned Jack, its neck propped through the wire fencing.
    â€œYou’ll never find yourself, if you haven’t yet lost yourself.”
    â€œPretty profound,” Nash replied, licking his lips.
    â€œIvy League, remember?” I quirked a brow and took the bottle to my mouth once more.
    â€œYou know what I think? I think you’re lost, little girl. Or hiding out. Something—or someone—has you spooked.”
    â€œI don’t care what you think. Or what anyone else thinks.”
    Nash cocked his hip as he leaned, the chain link bulging toward me with his weight. Even under the too-bright lights, his pupils were dilated, obsidian eclipsing moss.
    â€œIf you really didn’t give a damn about your reputation, you’d be on my side of the fence right about now.” The slight pucker in his smirk could have been a come-on, or a signal for another swig of alcohol.
    â€œMorning will be here soon enough,” I said, and left it at that.
    Business and pleasure was one cocktail I didn’t mix.

Appetite for Destruction

    â€œDon’t eat that!” Riggs nearly smacked the chocolaty goodness from my hand. “Never eat anything left on the bus by someone you don’t know,” he admonished, as if I were five years old and accepting candy from a stranger. “Especially baked goods, unless they are still sealed in their packaging.”
    â€œOh, gimme a break.” I tossed the half-devoured cookie into the trash anyway, glaring at him. It had tasted perfectly innocent, but he had ruined the indulgence anyhow. “Whatever. More for you, you greedy bastard.”
    His laughter followed me down the bus steps and out the door. “Might want to stay close by, girlie. In case you start to trip.”
    I didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity of Nash’s goon. But sure enough, I had barely made it to the tree line before I started to see jagged trails. Ugh. I’d seen my fair share of festival-goers tripping balls this summer, leaving me with no desire to experience it myself. Not with Maxine constantly nipping at my heels like a police dog.
Ineed air
.
And open space. I’m just going to find a nice tree to sit under, close my eyes, and listen to the music.
    The problem was, the music sounded so, so good. Not dancing was impossible. And when I closed my eyes, the beats had a color. When I breathed in, the melody had a taste.
    â€œDance with us!” It was the trio of painted, airbrushed girls that followed the festival from town to town. The blonde was done up in glittery blues and greens like the cosmos, her every curve a planet, a moon. Her navel was a star. Star Belly. The tall raven beauty was covered head to toe in scales of purple, pink, and yellow like some iridescent fish, winding her way between the blonde and me. Her arms moved languidly in the air, hands slowly twirling. The third girl had only her top painted, like the sheerest, flexible T-shirt. She took my hand. “Can we paint you?”
    The airbrush mist had felt like a whisper against my skin. It was hard not to giggle and sigh, but I tried to stay completely still, even though the music had trailed after us, all the way to the body paint artist vendor’s tent. The cool lick of a tiny paintbrush kept time with the rhythm of the drums onstage.
    â€œSo beautiful,” Raven marveled, as Star Belly and the other girl used my body as their canvas, the spray of the paint as cool and refreshing as the slight breeze blowing through the festival grounds.
    I had danced my way backstage, my Working laminate the only thing adorning my body besides