Hooker (L.A. Liaisons Book 2) by Brooke Blaine Page B

so it would take a bit of maneuvering to pack it all in. When we were younger, my mum had somehow squeezed in a family of five’s clothing and Christmas presents in one little tiny space. She’d said it was like fitting puzzle pieces together, trial and error. That sounded simple enough.  
    Too bad I hated puzzles.
    Paige’s door opened again and she placed a slightly smaller bag on the landing. “All right, I think that’s everything. Damn. Liquor bottles are heavy.”
    “That bag is full of alcohol?”
    “We’ve gotta pre-party.”
    “Of course we do. What was I thinking?”
    I helped her heave the suitcase to the car, and when she noticed the contents inside, she stopped in her tracks and let out a loud laugh.  
    “There is no way in hell Ryleigh’s stuff will fit,” she said. “She brings two bags of just shoes.”
    “Actually, most of that is my stuff,” Ryleigh said, smirking as she joined us. “I came over early to get a head start.”
    Paige raised an eyebrow. “Smart fucker.”
    “And I brought the coffee,” Quinn said, carrying a tray of coffee cups from her car.
    “Ohhhh, you’re the best,” I said, running over to take one off her hands. Caffeine was a must if I was going to deal with what the night had in store for me. Scratch that—I needed something stronger.
    “Hey Paige, you got any Baileys in that bag?”  
    She gave me a wary glance. “It’s nine a.m.”
    “And I’m on vacation.”
    “Good point. Quinn, you’re driving,” she said, tossing her the keys and unzipping the bag we’d just hauled down to reveal a bottle of Kahlua. “Will this work?”
    I nodded my agreement and we peeled off our coffee lids to spike the drinks.  
    And then we were off.  
    “Hey,” Quinn said after we’d pulled out of Paige’s luxurious Hollywood Hills neighborhood. “You know what this means, right?”
    Paige stopped mid-sip and shook her head. “Oh no. No, no, no, no.”
    “Liquor up, buttercup. You’re gonna need it.” Quinn smiled in the rearview mirror in Paige’s direction.
    “Absolutely not. I changed my mind. Stop the car.”
    “Too late. It’s my honor to chauffeur our beloved birthday girl, and to celebrate, I’ll be playing all my favorites. A little seventies rock. Some hair-band eighties. Maybe a little nineties grunge.”
    Paige gave a loud groan. “Oh God, please no. Not the slit-your-wrists Nirvana shit.”
    Quinn gave an evil laugh. “You just keep pouring that liquor, and leave me in charge of the radio. Now cheers,” she said, holding her arm out to clink her non-spiked with ours.
    We were past Barstow before I had the courage to bring up Val’s call.  
    “She what!” Ryleigh exclaimed, wheeling around from the passenger seat to face me.
    “I know, I know. I’m so sorry, you guys, but I don’t know how to get out of it,” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. A light buzz was taking the edge off my nerves, but I was more concerned with letting the girls down.
    “Don’t you dare!” Paige cried out. “Quinn, turn that down. Did you hear what she said? First Pepé Le Pew, and now Ace Locke? Jesus, Shayne. Do you have a golden pussy we don’t know about?”
    Quinn flicked the radio off. “Holy hell. This is some vision-board shit coming true right here. Can you wish Henry Cavill into mine?”
    “You have to go. Have to,” Paige said.
    I glared at her. “It’s your freakin’ birthday. I’m not supposed to be on duty, and I’m so tired of going on these stupid meeting date things for her. Besides, we’ve got plans.”
    Paige slapped the back of the seat. “Hell yes we do! We’ll all go, then. He won’t know we’re there, and it’s the perfect place to grab drinks before our night out. We’ll just get ready a bit earlier.”
    Their excited faces told me I’d have the support I needed to get in and then GTFO. I breathed a sigh of relief. “That would be perfect. Thank you, thank you.”  
    “See, now we can spy on you and