Read Online False Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 7) by Breena Wilde - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Breena Wilde
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cross between a squeal and a scream—fills the phone. “That’s not even the best part.”
I’m hyperventilating. “What?” I ask, breathlessly.
“The VIP upstairs is ours.”
“You’re shitting me.” That seemed impossible. “Are you sure? Like, you heard the owner say it with his own mouth, or was it just something Michael told you?”
“No, I just got off the phone with the actual owner. He was really nice, actually. Said there’d been some last minute changes and the VIP floor was ours. He’s also providing hors d’oeuvres, a cake, and a DJ.”
“Jessica. Are you serious?” I wondered if Cruze had something to do with this—or was it Zane? Getting into Studio 45 was impossible, which was why it was on my bucket list, but getting to be on the VIP floor… That went beyond my wildest dreams. Like, I couldn’t even imagine. I didn’t have a single friend who’d been up there, except maybe Cruze or Zane. But I’d never talked to either of them about the club. “How much is this going to cost?” I’m sure the amount is staggering.
“That’s just it. He said it’s free of charge.”
Now I know either Cruze or Zane is involved. They’re the only people I know who’d have the clout in L.A. to accomplish such a feat on such short notice.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “This is going to be epic.”
“I know, right?” She squeal-screams again then takes a deep breath. “Okay, so what’s the plan for tomorrow before party time? A birthday lunch? Shopping?”
We discuss details for another thirty minutes.
After she hangs up I finish off the bottle of wine and send Cruze a text: My birthday party is at Studio 45 tomorrow night. Party starts at ten o’clock. Bring Scarlett. Hope to see you both there.
I wait a moment for a reply, but don’t get one.
I can’t help but think about Zane. What would I be doing if he were still here? What kind of nasty fun would we be having? I can imagine, but with Zane reality is always better than fantasy.
“I wish you were here,” I whisper.
I open my eyes to a dark room. The clock says it’s four o’clock in the morning. I’m officially twenty-one. “Happy birthday.” I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep, but I’m too excited. There’s so much to do. I stare at the ceiling, admiring the strange, modern chandelier.
I realize I’m giddy. I’m hoping somehow Zane shows up, that he’ll tell me he can stay, that he wants us to be together.
“I want that,” I whisper, and force my breathing to slow. I need to sleep.
“What do you think? The red one or the black one?” I hold up two dresses and flip from one to the other.
Jessica is lounging my bed. It’s covered with clothes. She isn’t wearing any. She has on a black bra and black thong. “I like them both. How are you going to wear your hair?” She’s sucking on a piece of licorice. One leg is crossed over the other. Her hair is frizzy and everywhere, and she isn’t wearing any makeup.
“I was thinking wild. This is my twenty-first birthday, right? So I should wear something smoking hot and sexy, with maybe some big curls?
Jessica sits up. “If you want wild then you need to ditch the pretty dresses and go a little crazy.” She starts digging through the pile on my bed, then holds up a metallic silver dress. It’s ruched, fitted, and super short. The sleeves are strappy and hang off the shoulder. The back is bare except for a thick band where a bra sits. “This is the dress.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. That’s hooker couture.”
“Yeah, what’s you’re point? Try it on.” Jessica tosses it at me. I pull it over my lavender bra and panties. “Well?” I ask, walking over to the full-length mirror inside the closet.
“A definite fuck me dress. When Cruze sees you tonight he’s gonna know he chose the wrong woman.” She peruses the shoes lined up in the closet. Rita moved all the clothes over from Zane’s bedroom
I’m hyperventilating. “What?” I ask, breathlessly.
“The VIP upstairs is ours.”
“You’re shitting me.” That seemed impossible. “Are you sure? Like, you heard the owner say it with his own mouth, or was it just something Michael told you?”
“No, I just got off the phone with the actual owner. He was really nice, actually. Said there’d been some last minute changes and the VIP floor was ours. He’s also providing hors d’oeuvres, a cake, and a DJ.”
“Jessica. Are you serious?” I wondered if Cruze had something to do with this—or was it Zane? Getting into Studio 45 was impossible, which was why it was on my bucket list, but getting to be on the VIP floor… That went beyond my wildest dreams. Like, I couldn’t even imagine. I didn’t have a single friend who’d been up there, except maybe Cruze or Zane. But I’d never talked to either of them about the club. “How much is this going to cost?” I’m sure the amount is staggering.
“That’s just it. He said it’s free of charge.”
Now I know either Cruze or Zane is involved. They’re the only people I know who’d have the clout in L.A. to accomplish such a feat on such short notice.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “This is going to be epic.”
“I know, right?” She squeal-screams again then takes a deep breath. “Okay, so what’s the plan for tomorrow before party time? A birthday lunch? Shopping?”
We discuss details for another thirty minutes.
After she hangs up I finish off the bottle of wine and send Cruze a text: My birthday party is at Studio 45 tomorrow night. Party starts at ten o’clock. Bring Scarlett. Hope to see you both there.
I wait a moment for a reply, but don’t get one.
I can’t help but think about Zane. What would I be doing if he were still here? What kind of nasty fun would we be having? I can imagine, but with Zane reality is always better than fantasy.
“I wish you were here,” I whisper.
I open my eyes to a dark room. The clock says it’s four o’clock in the morning. I’m officially twenty-one. “Happy birthday.” I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep, but I’m too excited. There’s so much to do. I stare at the ceiling, admiring the strange, modern chandelier.
I realize I’m giddy. I’m hoping somehow Zane shows up, that he’ll tell me he can stay, that he wants us to be together.
“I want that,” I whisper, and force my breathing to slow. I need to sleep.
“What do you think? The red one or the black one?” I hold up two dresses and flip from one to the other.
Jessica is lounging my bed. It’s covered with clothes. She isn’t wearing any. She has on a black bra and black thong. “I like them both. How are you going to wear your hair?” She’s sucking on a piece of licorice. One leg is crossed over the other. Her hair is frizzy and everywhere, and she isn’t wearing any makeup.
“I was thinking wild. This is my twenty-first birthday, right? So I should wear something smoking hot and sexy, with maybe some big curls?
Jessica sits up. “If you want wild then you need to ditch the pretty dresses and go a little crazy.” She starts digging through the pile on my bed, then holds up a metallic silver dress. It’s ruched, fitted, and super short. The sleeves are strappy and hang off the shoulder. The back is bare except for a thick band where a bra sits. “This is the dress.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. That’s hooker couture.”
“Yeah, what’s you’re point? Try it on.” Jessica tosses it at me. I pull it over my lavender bra and panties. “Well?” I ask, walking over to the full-length mirror inside the closet.
“A definite fuck me dress. When Cruze sees you tonight he’s gonna know he chose the wrong woman.” She peruses the shoes lined up in the closet. Rita moved all the clothes over from Zane’s bedroom
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