22. Imogen

22

IMOGEN

I 'm lost in the grind behind the bar, high off the steady trickle of joy I pull from the room. My skin is flushed and my blouse sticks to my back, damp from running back and forth between patrons and the stockroom. I twirl, bouncing to the band's upbeat music as I return two bottles of liquor to their respective homes on the shelf.

It's good to be back.

A violent shiver shoots down my spine, the distinct rush of arousal pushing past all the other emotions. My head snaps to the couple at the end of the bar, who are deep throating each other's tongues.

I smack the bar with my hand when I reach them, two firm whacks that has the couple turning my way with glazed expressions.

"Dance floor, back hallway, or bathroom," I say, pointing in each direction. "But not at the bar. Other people need these seats to wallow and drink in. Got it?"

They share a dazed glance with each other before one mumbles and pulls the other towards the bathrooms. I snort, taking a moment to watch them retreat before getting back to work.

Two more fae take the open seats, and I grab their orders. As I place down the pint of beer and cocktail, a tanned hand rises above those at the other end, calling me over. As I get closer, a smile grows between my cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, eyes scanning Josie.

She's leaning forward on the bar, the butterfly sleeves of her simple green dress fluttering above the wood. She tucks a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear; today, the straight strands cut a sharp line across her mid-neck. It's shorter than normal—she must have gotten a fresh cut.

It's a cute look on her.

"I figured I needed a night out. Blow off some steam," she says with a shrug.

I place one hand on my hip and cock a single brow. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," she hums. Josie's head swivels, observant mahogany eyes making quick work of scanning the room and everyone in it.

"Okay," I snort. She's a shit liar. "Nora asked you to keep an eye on me while she was gone, didn't she?"

She scrunches her nose, and while she doesn't say it out loud, I know I'm correct.

"I can handle myself, you know," I say.

"I know. She knows that too."

"But."

" But ." Josie rocks her head from side to side. "You know how she gets. And why can't I do both? View it as an excuse to hang out like we used to."

I scoff, though excited butterflies float in my belly at her words. I don't think we've spent time alone together since college.

Another patron flags me over, and I give them a nod that I'll be over in a second.

"You mean when we were reckless twenty-somethings with too much to drink and too much to prove?" I say.

"Yeah, except now you're old." Josie clicks her tongue with a snicker.

"I am not old," I gape, my hand coming to my chest in mock distraught.

"You're almost thirty," she says. She keeps a straight face, but her eyes sparkle with mirth.

"Thirty is not the new three hundred," I say. "And you two aren't that far behind me." Under my breath I add, "Stupid cutoff for school pushed me into the younger year."

"Oh, I know. But soon we'll all be geriatric. The younglings will wonder when the Fading will catch up to us."

We burst into laughter; hers sounds like wind chimes made into music.

"Excuse me—" the same patron calls from my right.

I give Josie a sorry smile and rap my knuckles on the wood in front of her.

"I'll grab you a drink when I'm done with this one."

An hour passes. Between me making drinks for other patrons and Josie sipping on hers, we chat; it's easy, not needing to keep the conversation going long or with any kind of seriousness. Just two friends poking fun at each other and catching up.

It's nice. Simple. Uncomplicated.

Work dies down, the main rush complete. Fae are buzzed from their drinks and craving the respite of the dance floor. Josie and I are huddled over the bar, people watching, when we spot Leo's gap-toothed grin pop up among the partygoers.

"He's really working the room tonight," Josie says.

"Yeah, he's doing good."

"Why is it him out there and not you?" She asks it innocently, but those watchful eyes peer into my soul from over the edge of her glass.

"Why do you need to know?" I tease.

"Because I'm curious."

I turn, grabbing Josie's wine of choice from the icebox and pour her another drink. The faerie wine sparkles in the dim light, a maroon whirlpool that I get sucked into.

I haven't told anyone about testing out a transition of power with Leo yet. It's not common for a Sin to pass on the role while they're still alive. It's even less common to pass it to someone outside of the familial line, though it's not like I have any biological family left.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Josie says, pulling the glass from my hand and taking a large swig.

I shake off the strange trance.

"You're fine," I say. "We're trying something new."

"If you say so, Mo."

Josie's warm eyes dart to the dance floor as a fresh song plays. Excited screeches sound from the gaggle of women jumping up to dance; it isn't a new hit by any means, but there's something about the Charleston that gets alcohol-laden patrons moving.

A ghost of a smile parts Josie's lips.

"You should go dance," I say, wriggling my brows. "Enjoy your night off. "

"No. No way," she says. "I'm no good at dancing. Especially without everyone else to shield me."

"It's not about being good, it's about having fun."

She takes a tentative breath, eyes flicking between the dance floor and me.

"Should I?" she asks.

Her cheeks and neck are flushed red from her drink. She's tipsier than she's letting on. I lean forward to whisper with her conspiratorially, the devious part of me curious to see if I can egg her on.

"I think you should."

"I don't know."

"I'm not going to force you, but I promise I'll whisk you away if you make that big a fool of yourself. Which you won't ."

She nods her head, lips pursed in contemplation. Finally, when her eyes meet mine, they shine with determination.

"I think I'm going to go dance."

"Great," I say with a goofy smile.

"Okay." Josie nods as she stands. She wipes her hands on her dress. "I can dance. No problem."

I tap the rim of her glass. "Liquid courage."

"Right," she says, downing the rest of the drink.

A shiver runs down her whole body as she swallows. Slamming the empty glass on the counter, she turns and heads into the throngs of people. Giggles pour out of me as I watch Josie get wrangled into a group of dancing girls; bright grins spread across all their flushed cheeks.

I lose track after a while, but she doesn't leave the dance floor after the first song—or the second, or the third. Seemingly adopted into the gaggle of single women, I leave her to her fun.

After an hour passes and she hasn't come back to say goodbye or get another drink, worry wriggles in my gut. I know she can handle herself, but?—

Jeeze, where else did I hear that one tonight?

I refocus on drying the glass in my hands.

Actually, Josie's the most capable of all of us when drunk; I laugh to myself as a college memory flashes in my mind. Some guy wouldn't stop hitting on her after multiple rejections, so she knocked him out cold. It was the three of us out that night—she, Nora, and I—early on in our friendship and years before any of us were Sins or Seconds.

Still, that little tickle of nerves bounces around my gut.

When the clock strikes one, and there's no Josie to be found, I go check the back hallway where the bathrooms are.

As I turn the corner, I collide with a lean body.

We each go to steady the other, her gripping my waist and me her biceps. Josie's hair is a rumpled mess of flyaway hairs and her lipstick is smeared.

We both freeze.

"Hi," she squeaks.

" Hi, " I say.

We both let go of each other; she steps to the right, and I mirror her, then it happens again, but this time we both go left.

"Sorry," I snort.

"It's fine."

A deep pink flush spreads up her neck, this time not from alcohol. She glances behind her, nervously.

"Are you okay?" I say slowly.

"Yep."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm," she hums, but it's too high-pitched.

I stare at her, trying to stop myself from smiling because I think I know what's going on—and I'm not letting her leave without telling me.

"Why do I not believe you?"

"Because you like to pry when people's answers don't satisfy you," she blurts.

Her hand immediately covers her mouth. A muffled oops sounds from behind her fingers. I huff, not knowing whether to laugh or rage.

"I don't know how to respond to that."

"Don't say anything, just forget it," she waves her hands around my head like she can magic away my memory. "There. Forgotten."

Oh, she is drunk .

It's at that moment that a fae woman stumbles out of the bathroom door—a bathroom that is a single stall —adjusting the string of pearls around her neck.

"Excuse me," the woman says as she scurries past, casting Josie a sheepish glance.

I didn't think Josie's face could get any redder, but it does.

A devious grin spreads slowly across my lips.

"Did you have sex in my bar's bathroom?"

"I would never," she says. "I'm far too responsible to do something like that."

"It's okay if you did," I tease, trying to hold back my laughter by biting my bottom lip. "Plenty of people do it."

Josie groans, shuffling over to the wall and banging her forehead on it.

"This is embarrassing."

"No, it's not," I say, quickly walking over and rubbing small circles on her back. "It's perfectly normal. You know how many times Nora and I fucked in there?"

"Ew." She casts me a disgusted glare from her periphery.

"Okay, maybe not the best example to have chosen."

Josie groans. "I needed a distraction."

My hand stings at her back, my magic taking in the sharp pinpricks of her stress. I pause in my ministrations.

Josie never projects her emotions.

"Joze—"

"It's been a lot. Dealing with, you know, everything lately."

Her frustrated groan vibrates against my fingertips, and my gaze softens on her. Josie's the kind of woman who keeps her worries to herself and, at the same time, takes on everyone else's.

It's a wonder she's so composed all the time, honestly.

"Are you sure that you're alright?" I ask.

"Yeah, I am." She tilts her head to the side. No tears well in her eyes, but a sadness shines there alongside the drunk haze. "Sorry. This is weird."

"Don't apologize. I told you I'd whisk you away if you needed. The offer wasn't limited to dancing," I say. "You want to crash upstairs? I baked cookies earlier and can put on a pot of tea once I'm closed out down here."

"No, I couldn't do that—" She launches from the wall, a red mark on her forehead where it was resting against the brick.

I roll my eyes.

"I'd be glad for the company. I've been having a rough go of it too. I'll tell you about it. I could probably use your advice." I cross my fingers over my heart. "Honest."

Josie nods, and I send her upstairs with my key before helping Leo and my staff close the night out.

When I go upstairs an hour later, Josie is already asleep, one arm hanging off the couch and the other thrown over her eyes. A half-eaten cookie sits crumbled on the table next to a full glass of water.

I shake my head. She's going to wake up with a hangover for sure.

I grab a blanket from the basket next to the couch and drape it over her. Josie stirs, a deep sigh filling her chest. I freeze, hoping I don't wake her, but when her lashes flutter, I know I've failed.

Sleepy brown eyes squint up at me, little crow's feet dancing at their corners.

"Caught me," I whisper, dropping the blanket over her.

"Hey," she says, yawning.

Josie sits up, blinking away her nap. She's got this tiny pout when she glances at the coffee table. My lips twist, holding back a giggle.

I don't think I've ever seen sleepy Josie before.

"Scooch," I say, pushing at her legs.

She pulls them up to her chest and under the blanket, allowing me room to sit. I throw my legs up on the table and let out a breath, sinking into the cushions.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"And I didn't mean to fall asleep," Josie counters. "Downstairs all closed up?"

"Yep."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

A beat of silence passes between us.

"Sorry, again." Josie winces.

I shoot her an incredulous look. "Josie, I do not care. You can crash here anytime you need."

"Duly noted," she says.

"So. Do you want to talk about before?" I say tentatively.

Josie shifts, curling up on her side and staring at the half-eaten cookie.

"I know I told you everything would work out okay the other day, but I think I was trying to convince myself too," she says.

"Why? What's got you so worried?"

She shrugs one shoulder.

"I keep thinking about the girl who lost her parents. And the warehouse. We've only been in charge a year and shit's gone sideways. I'm not doing a good enough job protecting everyone."

"There are some things out of your control," I say. "You and Nora are doing the best you can, given the circumstances."

"Nora's on her own warpath," Josie sighs. Her lashes flutter, slow and heavy. "And this Virtue knocking at our door? He's not a good man, Imogen."

"Is any man good?" I joke, but she doesn't laugh.

"You know they're planning to kill him, right?" Josie asks, yawning.

My body goes still.

"What?"

"That's why she and Silas are off training together," she mumbles. "Two orphans set on hunting their fucked-up uncle."

Josie rolls over, head tilted up on the pillow, her eyes closed.

"Wait," I say, my mind still catching up to her words. "They want to kill a Virtue?"

Silas cut off contact with the Seelie years ago. How the hell are they going to kill a Virtue who lives in Avalon?

"Revenge is a sin so sweet they can't help but want a taste," Josie says, yawning for a third time. "And I don't know. I imagine they're figuring out how to do it as we speak."

Shit .

I didn't realize I was projecting my thoughts out to her. There's just something about having Josie in my space that has my guard dropping.

Her eyes open, and those deep brown irises, as wise as the earth, stare right through me.

"So, what's the deal with you and Leo?"

I shake my head, jerking away from Josie's gaze at the change in subject. I pull my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees, the thick fabric of my work trousers scraping against my skin.

"The past couple of weeks kind of put things in perspective," I say. My right hand fiddles with the tasseled hem of the blanket. "What Silas had me do, what everyone expects of me as Lust? It's different from what I thought it'd be."

It's a much crueler reality than I expected.

Josie hums. I spare a quick glance and note she's closed her eyes again.

"Are you thinking about passing on the title?" she asks.

"It feels like the right decision. But I'm worried about what everyone will think." I purse my lips. "Do you think we learn to live our lives for those we love and, on the way, forget to live them for ourselves?"

"I don't know if I understand…"

"It might be easier to show you," I say, holding out my hand.

Her eyes open, the deep brown swirling with shock.

She might have poked through my memories when I needed to explain the shit with Silas, but it's not something you make a habit of—offering your mind to someone.

"Okay," she says.

Her nimble fingers thread between mine; her warm palm heats my cold one as they press together.

I show her every doubt I've had. I show her the hundred times Conor reminded me that I was next in line after him. I show her how hesitant my mother was when I brought up the idea of the Den and how proud she was after Conor explained what the bar could do for our House. I show her how little I cried for my mother when she died. And how I could bottle all the tears I shed for my brother.

Her passing didn't hurt nearly as much as his. I'd been brought up to equate my mother's death with Conor's ascension. Her death always meant his dream would be realized.

But they both died in that crash, and I alone remained to pick up the pieces they left behind. I was twenty-five and forced to make an impossible decision while I grieved: take up my family's legacy, my brother's dream, or leave it for the vultures to devour.

I pull my hand from Josie's.

"Do you understand now?"

"Better than before. But, Mo, I've never lived for anyone but myself."

So she doesn't get it, not really.

"What about Nora?" I ask, tilting my head so my cheek is resting on my knee.

Josie's brows pinch together. "Nora's different."

"How so?"

"We lost our families young and only had each other. We chose to forge a path together. You had a mom and brother to follow," Josie says plainly.

"But you both still followed in Pride's footsteps."

"This life is all we've ever known. To want anything outside of that…" she trails off. "I don't think it's ever crossed Nora's mind to not climb the ladder of power. For me, it's a matter of keeping the one sister I have safe. But I know, in here—" She pats over her heart. "I've chosen that for myself."

I chew my lip. "I see."

"That is all to say," she says on a final yawn, falling into slumber. "Don't talk yourself out of happiness, Mo."