You've Got Fail(3)



“Whoa.” He raised the glasses so as not to spill on me.

“Sorry about that.” I winced and righted myself. “I’m so clumsy in heels.”

He shook his head. “I’d say you’re fuck-hot in heels.”

Inward cringe, outer smile. “Thanks.”

“I’ve got to get back, but I’ll catch you when this thing’s over.” He licked his lips.

Not a chance. “All right.” I gave him a demure smile, then scooted past him and ordered a champagne. After tucking his money clip into my sparkly clutch (a girl’s gotta earn a living, right?), I spun around and assessed the rest of the room.

The walls were adorned with various paintings and photos of people performing some rather creative sex acts. I was particularly fond of an image of a woman doing a backbend with an indescribably large penis wedged in her throat. If this was art, Tumblr deserved its own fancy-smancy gallery.

My next mark stood and stared at a photo of two women entangled in a Sapphic embrace. Tall, older, and running his hand along his potbelly, his “creeper with cash” vibe practically called my name, which, at the moment, was Scarlet Rocket.

I eased through the crowd, cursing the women who held onto their clutches with the strength of eagle talons. No chance with them. But men with wallets tucked away in pockets? Easy pickings.

“Scarlet?” Someone pushed through the crowd toward me. A toothily handsome man approached.

My hackles rose. Whenever someone recognized me, I held my breath and waited for an accusation. Despite my worries, no one had ever connected me to their missing valuables. Even so, I was still wary.

“Hi.” I plastered on a smile and tried to place the man.

“Todd, remember?” His million-megawatt smile flashed a memory loose. Last weekend. His wallet sat in a pile of wallets in a basket beneath my bed.

“Of course.” I let him take my elbow and guide me toward a quieter alcove. I threw a longing look at the mark with a hard-on for the lesbian love painting. Maybe I could try him later once I shook off Todd.

“Did you get my email?” he asked as we stopped next to a vibrant image of a multi-pronged, neon green dildo. Who was this designed for? An alien with eight vaginas?

I dragged my eyes away from the octodildo. “Um, no, I must have missed it. I get so many from the blog and everything.”

“Yeah, I try to skip over mine, but my secretary makes sure I see the important ones.” He took a sip of his red. “I wanted to ask if you’d be interested in going to dinner with me sometime.”

What had I played with him last weekend? Forward or frumpy? Damn, I couldn’t remember.

He shrugged, his suit hugging his shoulders with tailored flair. “Sorry to come on strong, but women like you don’t stay single for long.”

I pressed my champagne glass to my lips and stared at him. Handsome, moneyed, everything a gal like me should want in a man. But I didn’t want a man, I wanted whatever brand new wallet he had tucked away in his suit coat. Men were a dime a dozen, but cash was forever. Stepping closer, I ran my free hand down his chest. “This color is amazing on you.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing quickly. “Thanks. My tailor recommended it.”

My fingers tickled along the edge of supple leather hidden beneath the wool. How much money had he stashed in the replacement wallet? I was about to find out.

I licked my lips slowly. He focused on my mouth as I deftly slid my fingers to his inner pocket. One twitch of my wrist, and I’d have taken this idiot twice.

“Scarlet?” A man’s voice cut through my spell like a knife through a spider web. The same old cold splash of water rushed down my spine. I hated being recognized.

I stepped back, and the wallet remained in Todd’s coat instead of in my hand where it belonged. Damn.

Another man had walked up.

Bigger than Todd, but nowhere near as well groomed, the man glared at me through a pair of glasses with black plastic rims. “Can I have a word, Scarlet?”

“Hi, I’m Todd.” He extended his hand.

The newcomer ignored him. “I know who you are.”

“And you are?” Todd stepped forward, shielding me from the angry glarer.

“I’m Willis. Her date.”

“Oh.” Todd deflated a bit. “Scarlet?” He turned back to me, a question in his eyes.

I didn’t have a date, and certainly not with Willis, but something in his direct stare told me it was in my best interest to play along…for now. “Oh, Todd. I’m sorry. Willis is my PR guy’s boyfriend. He’s pretty much my secretary, to be honest.” I enjoyed the slight eye twitch from Willis at my assertion. “I told him I’d show him around the gallery. Can we raincheck?”

“Yeah. Not a problem. I need to head out anyway.” He turned to me and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Can I get your number this time?”

“Yes.” I rattled off the digits to my burner phone.

“Great.” He tapped a few buttons. “I sent you a text, so you’ve got my number.”

My clutch buzzed. “Got it.” I shook it for emphasis.

“See you soon.” He dropped a kiss on my cheek, then nodded at the angry glarer. “Nice to meet you, Willis. Have a great night.” Todd struck off through the crowd.

Celia Aaron's Books