Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [84]
I laid her gently down and made sure the jacket stayed over her. “Is she out for the night?” I asked no one in particular.
Jason said, “Guys, I told you that I was a werewolf, and you were okay with cuddling on the couch. Now you’re treating Anita like she’s scary just because she kept Lisa from hitting the floor.”
J. J. said, “Jason’s right. We’re being stupid.” She offered me her hand again, but this time there was no flirting, just a very direct look from those blue eyes.
I took the hand.
She said, “Thank you for catching my friend. I’m sorry it startled us.” She gave an unfriendly look to all the others around the couch. “We are going to behave ourselves better than this toward our friend’s girlfriend, aren’t we, girls?” It was phrased as a question, but it was said as an order.
Some of the other women glanced at each other, but it was Jen who walked over and offered me her hand. The mother of two was dressed in the only pantsuit of the bunch. It was a nice pantsuit, though, and showed off the new baby curves to advantage. Her shoulder-length hair formed a yellow frame to all that pale skin and blue eyes. Her makeup was understated, and almost invisible.
She gave me a good solid handshake, and even better eye contact. She’d been one of the few who hadn’t hung all over Jason. I guess it was that whole married thing. Monogamy at its best.
“First we disrespected you by climbing all over your steady boyfriend, then we react like schoolkids when you save our friend from a fall. I don’t know what you must think of us, Anita—please, give us another chance.”
I nodded, and was more nervous or pissed or whatever than I knew, because I said what I was thinking. “You didn’t do anything inappropriate with Jason, Jen. So no harm done. And a lot of people are spooked by the preternatural stuff.”
“I guess that was aimed at the rest of us,” Jenna said. She came forward in her own version of the little black dress. It was heavier material and not quite as short as Lisa’s had been, but it was still the proverbial black dress, just the clubbing version. There is a little black dress for business, funerals (those can be the same dress), and parties. The latter are usually shorter and show more cleavage. Jenna’s dress was no exception to the rule.
Her hair was almost the same white blond that Lisa’s was. She even had her hair back in a ponytail, too. They looked like Barbie clones, or maybe Paris Hilton clones. Eek.
Jenna offered a perfectly manicured hand with nails painted black to match the dress. She was a little unsteady on her heels, but her voice was firm and didn’t sound the least bit drunk. “I promise we will do better than this.”
I had to smile for some reason. “I believe you,” I said.
She smiled back, and the others came up one by one to shake my hand and apologize. Kris, who was a wee bit more drunk than everyone but Lisa, hugged me clumsily. “Pawing your guy right in front of you, I’m so sorry.”
I patted her bare back awkwardly. I didn’t like strangers hugging me. Why bare back? Because the back of her little white dress was nothing but straps. But most of the group had small enough breasts to carry off a dress where a bra was out of the question.
Kris got a little teary. “I’ve been a bitch.”
I patted her and looked for someone to rescue me from the drunken blonde. J. J. took her off my hands and led her away to the end of the couch.
I looked at Jason, waiting for him to tell his friends the truth. That we weren’t really that close a couple and he could date them if they wanted. Jason was studying us all, and didn’t seem about to raise the topic. I’d be damned if I’d do it.
There was a knock at the door. Shadwell nodded and Sanchez and the silent Price went for the door. Sanchez called back, “It’s Chuck and the entertainment.” He said both Chuck and entertainment like they were bad words.
I looked at the women, most of them already a little drunk and overly emotional.