Silence.
Reese raised an eyebrow to Jonathan. “You were saying?”
Cade just grinned. He had a sneaky feeling that Kylie was going to get along just fine with the other women. “We should play, too.”
“Speaking of bras,” Reese began. “May I just say on behalf of all of us, that you made the obvious choice, Cade?” Reese gestured in front of his chest, clearly referring to Kylie’s assets. “I mean, damn. I thought Audrey had some impressive tatas, but you got a good one there, buddy.”
“I’m glad you remembered that she’s mine,” Cade said, pulling his chips toward his spot with one arm. “Because now I don’t have to kill you.”
Logan tossed his ante into the pile and then lifted his glass. “Someone pour Cade a drink so we can start this meeting, already.”
A shot of whiskey was set before him a moment later, and all the men raised their glasses, some drinking water, some alcohol. They clinked them together and said the motto that had gotten them through college, through years of hard work and financial success . . . and now, love. The motto had made them who they were today. “Fratres in prosperitum,” they chanted.
Looking around the table, Cade had never felt closer to his Brotherhood.
Life was good. Life was very, very good.
EPILOGUE
Six months later
“Oh my God, would you quit squirming?” Kylie exclaimed as she leaned in to add more glitter to eyelids. “It’s impossible for you to sit still, isn’t it?”
The man sitting in the chair pouted. It looked rather funny, given that he was wearing a pink feather boa and mile-high heels. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Kylie said with a grin. “Just stop freaking wiggling and hold still so I can draw your eyes.”
Obediently, the drag queen closed his eyes and leaned forward. “Just glitter me up and let’s get this show going.”
Several minutes later, she’d transformed the dark-haired lithe young man with the five o’clock shadow into his stage persona. They were trying a new type of eye makeup tonight, and Kylie saw with approval that it looked great on Carl, aka Carla the French. “I like it. What do you think?”
He opened his eyes with a dramatic flutter of his sweeping lashes, then looked critically in the mirror. “Needs more glitter.”
She studied him, then nodded, dipping her brush into the paint. “More glitter it is.”
Kylie had been working a popular drag show Off Broadway for the last two months, and she had to admit that she absolutely loved it. There was not an audience more appreciative of makeup than drag queens, she mused as she added more glitter to Carla the French’s eyelids. It was a bit like coming home. They loved her makeup, loved her, and loved to experiment with new and dramatic looks, which Kylie also adored. The men were pretty fricking fantastic, too: funny and sweet and no one had thrown a flowerpot at her head. Nothing like her last job, Kylie thought with amusement.
She finished and leaned back for Carl/Carla to inspect. He peered in the mirror and then nodded. “Good job, babe.”
“Thanks.” She felt a bit like preening. “Go out there and wow them.”
“I always do,” Carla the French said, getting up with a flourish of pink boa.
Kylie grinned and began to tidy her station. She could put away her things and leave for the evening now that the makeup was done, though she always left extra cosmetic sponges and makeup remover for the men once they finished the show. The stuff they’d been using in the past was crap, and Kylie was particular about her canvases, and the men definitely qualified as canvases.
She was just putting away the last of her bottles when someone knocked at the makeup room door. “Knock knock,” said Tessa, the stage manager. “You have visitors.”
When Kylie looked up, she sucked in a breath.
There, in the doorway with a stranger at her side, was Daphne Petty, global superstar.
The last six months had been rough for Daphne. Kylie hadn’t seen her, but she knew from Cade’s reports that rehab was an uphill climb, and the tabloids had been crawling all over her, determined to be the ones to catch her when she slipped. Then, she’d left rehab three months ago and put on weight, and the tabloids had gleefully reported that, too. There wasn’t a day that Daphne wasn’t in the tabloids in some negative fashion or another.
But . . . she looked really damn good.
Daphne had put on at least twenty pounds from when Kylie had last seen her. Maybe thirty. The hollows were gone from her face, and she looked more like her twin, Audrey, now. She wore a brown wig with a thick fringe of bangs, and her skin was clear of makeup. Her figure was no longer twig-thin, but had curves to it. She wore a plain black sweater and a pair of jeans, and gave Kylie an awkward smile. “Hey there. Long time no see.”
“Oh wow,” Kylie said, moving forward to hug Daphne. “It’s so good to see you! How are you?” She wrapped her arms around Daphne and held her tight for a moment, pleased to see that Daphne no longer felt brittle underneath her grip, and that she actually hugged Kylie back.
“I’m doing great,” Daphne said as they pulled away. “And I should probably introduce you to Wesley. He’s my life coach slash bodyguard slash slap-my-hand-away-from-bad-things guy.” She gestured at the Goliath behind her.
Kylie eyed the man. He was well over six feet tall, had a body like a pro wrestler, and looked rather . . . strict. She offered him her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He scanned the room and moved protectively closer to Daphne, which Kylie thought was rather sweet. It was nice to see someone looking out for her for a change, instead of leading her down a bad path.