Free Unhinged by Timberlyn Scott Page B

I nodded,
and he assisted in pulling the wrap from my shoulders before disappearing.
    Another man, who looked
a lot like Gun Guy by the front door, made his way over to us. “Right this
way.”
    I glanced up at Aaron,
lifting my eyebrows in a silent “Can you believe this?” He smirked back at me,
looking regal and handsome and totally at ease. As though he actually belonged
in a place like this.
    I, however, did not
feel like I belonged. I was suddenly self-conscious, wondering what other
people thought when they looked at me. Was my skirt too high? Could they see
the tops of my stockings when I walked? Did I look like a prostitute?
    I didn’t have time to
ponder those questions for long though because we were on the move again, Aaron
leading me as we followed behind the man in a dark suit. He took us deeper into
the house, through what appeared to be a formal living room decked out with
modern, white furniture that looked like it had never been used, and then down a
hallway. At the end of the hall, we went up a different staircase, this one
just as grand as the ones near the front door with its intricate iron railing,
to the second floor and then down another long, wide hallway. By the time we
arrived at our destination, I was thoroughly lost. When we came upon a set of
double doors, he stopped, opened one of the doors and gestured us inside.
    Holy. Smokes.
    I didn’t stumble, and
I’m not sure how I managed that. Aaron and I walked into an enormous ballroom
filled with people. A waiter was standing near the door holding a tray of
champagne flutes. Because social protocol demanded that I do so, I took one of
the flutes, as did Aaron before we made our way inside.
    Social protocol
probably didn’t demand that I down the champagne in two swallows, but I did
that anyway.
    “How much money does
this guy have? And why the hell didn’t he hire a better decorator?” Aaron asked,
his voice a mere breath against my ear.
    Laughing and gently
elbowing him in the ribs, I answered with, “A lot.”
    I didn’t know what that
number was, but obviously it was enough, and Aaron did have a point. Although
nice, the place felt a little stuffy to me. A little too upper crust.
    The walls donned a
fancy gold and red wallpaper with thick white trim framing it. The floor was
dark hardwood, with plush red carpet outlining the room. There were large
gilded plaques of various designs hanging above the doors and heavy gold drapes
covering the floor to ceiling windows.
    Suffice it to say, it
did suit Mr. Trovato.
    I spent the next few
minutes taking everything in. From the sophisticated décor to the fancy gowns
on the women and the expensive tuxes on the men. As I figured, most of the
people I encountered were older, and just as I thought, everyone seemed to look
right past me. If it hadn’t been for a man who had bumped into me and politely
apologized, I would have believed that I was invisible.
    “Hey,” a chipper female
voice sounded from behind me and I turned, coming face to face with… “You must
be Payton. I’m Aaliyah. Welcome to my humble abode.”
    Aaron snorted.
    “I like you already,”
Aaliyah said to Aaron. “And you are?”
    “Aaron.” He offered
Aaliyah his traffic stopping smile. “Payton’s gay best friend who was wrangled
into attending.”
    Aaliyah’s grin was
radiant, as was the rest of her. She stood just a few inches taller than me,
her long, blond hair curled and hanging down her back. The dress she wore
probably cost more than I made in a year and it fit her like a glove, the
turquoise color setting off her bright blue eyes and olive complexion
perfectly.
    “I definitely like
him,” she whispered to me. “Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
    “Really?” Aaron asked
skeptically making a production out of looking around, earning him another
laugh from Aaliyah.
    “Okay, it’s as bad as
it looks. But stick around, things usually get exciting later on.”
    “Exciting? As in the
old