“I wasn’t asking you.” She held out the vial to Angel.

Angel hedged, not wanting to sound like a country mouse. “I can’t. Once I start, I’m afraid I won’t stop.”

She hoped the petite woman could maintain, with that much booze and drugs kicking around inside her. She has so little body fat, how can she not be sick? She liked Kinley. She didn’t want to see this dignified person she admired get sloppy and stupid.

Scanning the room, she scrutinized the rest of the wealthy and the famous. Were they all messed up? She pictured herself living in a fabulous house, maybe even with a maid, never worrying about scraping together a balanced meal so her kid wouldn’t get scurvy or praying the check to the electric company didn’t bounce. Did she want to have what they had? Be like them?

I’d like to give it a whirl, she thought. I wouldn’t let it change me.

“Do you want another drunk?” Duke paused, then realized what he’d said. “I mean, drink?”

“I’ve still got this one, but thanks.”

He hoped Angel was having a good time, despite Regina’s presence.

He’d tried calling his father, but of course Willis didn’t answer. That’d be too easy. Duke finally resorted to texting back, telling him to do what it took to pay the doctor and they’d work it out tomorrow. I can’t let Dr. Collins talk to reporters. Here’s to hoping Pops took care of him.

The music suddenly changed, became louder. His mood lightened. He was ready to dance, let off some steam and watch Angel move those hips and shake that ass. Looking at her glistening skin and alert eyes, he suddenly had a strong urge to unpin her hair and run his fingers through it, let her long curls fly around free. She finer than every woman in here.

“Is that actually Taylor Swift up there singing?” Angel’s pixie face lit up with amusement. He realized, then, that it wasn’t just that she was beautiful and sexy—she also had a spark in her that burned brighter than most. She was present, ready to live. He wanted someone real, not afraid to stay real. Someone like Angel.

Kinley reached over and refilled Angel’s champagne without asking, nodding her chin toward the famous singer. “That girl! Taylor’s always going to be on the stage in the end. Just ask Kanye. But Roland adores her, so…” She shrugged.

“You have to admit, she can be catchy,” Angel said. Duke’s heart thumped as she twitched her shoulder to the music and grinned up at him, her lips parted and glossy. Jesus, I’m like a middle school kid around her.