It infuriated her that Johnny and others were so casual about letting mortals know the truth.
“That sucks.” Then Benny burst out laughing. “Ha-ha. Sucks.”
Lizette wasn’t one to normally roll her eyes, as she saved her irritation with others for her private thoughts, but she could not restrain the impolite gesture now. She was not in any mood for manners. “Call Saxon and tell him he needs to meet us here. Now.”
Benny’s laughter cut off and his lips jutted out in a pout. “You don’t have to be mean. Geez.”
Knowing that she was about to lose her shit entirely if something didn’t happen in the next sixty seconds, Lizette took a deep breath. “Will you please call Saxon and ask him to meet Johnny and me here? It’s extremely important.”
“Sure. Are you sure you aren’t interested in biting me?”
Before she could respond, Johnny finally seemed to have pulled his head out of his imaginary computer screen game playing and heard what they were discussing.
“Hey,” he told Benny. “Don’t be talking to her like that. I just told you she was with me.”
Yet, that wasn’t the kind of assistance she was looking for from him. “Johnny, may I speak with you outside? Benny saw Saxon earlier tonight and he is going to call him on our behalf and ask him to meet us here.”
Johnny wasn’t even looking at her, she noted with total frustration. Did he not understand the importance of what was happening? They had been outed.
“Can it wait a second, babe? Dick’s friend Brian just walked in.”
“It really cannot wait!” she said shrilly.
* * *
JOHNNY WASN’T SURE why Lizette suddenly had a bug up her butt. Here he was trying to get them out of handcuffs and she was shrieking at him. Though he supposed he had been acting weird for the last hour. He wasn’t exactly stellar at hiding his awkwardness, and his sudden and unexpected feelings for Lizette made him feel hugely awkward. Going-through-puberty awkward. So maybe she was just picking up on the vibe he had created. Which was why it made even more sense that they get out of the cuffs.
“Brian has a lock pick,” he told her. “Dick says he can spring us in two minutes flat.”
She didn’t say anything, but her foot was tapping furiously on the rung of her stool and her fingers were drumming on her purse, which she had slapped onto the bar. With more attitude than grace, she dug into her bag one-handed and pulled out a wad of singles. One by one she started counting them out and Johnny had to admit he was mystified as to what the hell she was doing.
“Are you a dancer too?” Benny asked.
Oh, bad question. Johnny winced.
“No.” Her response was almost a growl.
Johnny shifted on his seat, suddenly fearful for his testicles. She looked enraged and he had no clue why. Fortunately, he was spared from having to confront the issue by Brian approaching Dick, and introductions were made all around. Lizette ignored them, even as Brian pulled on the cuffs to examine them, forcing her hand to dangle over the bar.
“This is a double lock. Little harder but nothing I can’t handle. It will just take me a minute or two.” Brian wasn’t as tall as Dick, but he had a similar build, long and lean, and he had straight black hair and a strong nose. Between his features and the necklace and vest he was wearing, Johnny had the impression he was of Native American descent.
“Thanks, man, I appreciate you doing this.”
“Sounds like a crazy night.” Brian was quiet, calm, pulling a pick out of his pocket and studying the lock on the cuffs with intense concentration. “So who should I spring first?”
“Lizette,” Johnny said without hesitation. She clearly needed something, maybe being free of her titanium restraint would improve her mood. Funny how an hour ago he had been panicking at the thought of Lizette staying with him, now he was panicking at the thought that she might not want to stay with him. Stupid. Completely and totally stupid.
“Merci,” she said coldly and formally, which was not at all reassuring. Then she said something to him in French that he suspected was her explanation of why she was so pissed. Only he of course couldn’t understand a freaking word she was saying.
“I know,” he told her, because really what else was he supposed to say? They had a skinny guy with Cher hair in between them jamming a pick into their cuffs.
Wait a minute. Brian looked like Cher, too, now that he thought about it, though he was dressed like a man and wasn’t wearing mascara. But there was something familiar about him. Johnny swung his gaze back and forth between Dick and Brian and felt a niggling of a memory. “Were you both at the wedding last night?”
Dick grinned. “Maybe. Don’t you remember?”
Brian had been Half-Breed Cher. He was sure of it. “I’m starting to think that all we need is a Turn Back Time Cher and we’ll have Cher through the decades.” God, that was weird. If a flash mob of Cher impersonators broke into “I Got You, Babe” all around him, he was out of there.
“First lock undone,” Brian murmured, hair sliding over Johnny’s arm as he worked in concentration.
Lizette said something in French.
“Absolutely,” Johnny said.
“Dude,” Benny said.
“You’re a little slow on the uptake,” Dick said. “Of course we are.”
What? “You mean you are Cher through the decades?”
“Duh. Every tranny gang needs a theme of sorts.”
Tranny gang? Did such a thing exist? And if so, why? It wasn’t like he and the other guys were a vampire gang. They were just a group of friends who hung out. They were a band, which was a legitimate reason to call themselves a group. “What makes you a gang?”
But Dick clucked his tongue. “Never mind.”
“Got it.” Brian clicked open the ring around Lizette’s wrist and let her free, then closed it again.
Lizette’s eyes lit up and she bent her arm and clutched her now-free hand to her chest. “Oh, thank you. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this!”
Wow. That sounded like eager relief to be rid of her attachment to him. Johnny felt a little bitter.
“Oh, shit, we’re late!” Dick glanced at his phone. “Benny, we have to blow. Brian, let’s go.”
“I never said I would blow you,” Benny said.
Dick rolled his eyes, his fake eyelashes fluttering. Glittery eye shadow floated down to land on his flawless cheeks. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want you to. It would be like—”