Evil In Carnations by Kate Collins Read Free Book Online Page B

very busy. Listen, I’ll call you right back. I know I said that last time, but . . .”
    Mama Salvare. With a sigh of regret, I got up and headed for the door, wiggling my fingers at him. “Bye.”
    Marco shrugged, his way of apologizing. Having been in that situation many times with my own mom, I forgave him.
     
    Between Nikki having second thoughts about going to the speed-dating event, and Marco voicing his misgivings about my going to the event, I thought Thursday would never arrive. Fortunately for me, Mom and Dad were planning to spend the weekend in Chicago, taking in a play and the new exhibit at the Field Museum of Natural History. That would wipe them out until the following Tuesday. Perfect timing.
    But that was next week. This week I was more concerned about Nikki backing out, especially after we pulled into the parking lot of the just-opened Wild Boar Steak House.
    “It’s a barn, Abby. A giant red barn.”
    “So? You’ve eaten breakfast in a building shaped like a giant glazed doughnut.”
    “Doughnuts and breakfast go together. Barns and future husbands? Scary.”
    “Barns and cowboys. Duh.” I opened my car door. “Come on, Nik. There’s nothing scary about a barn. Who knows? You might meet a guy in there who’ll change your life.”
    The decor inside carried out the barn theme, down to the straw on the wooden floor; a hay loft for extra seating; waiters and waitresses in cowboy hats and shirts with fringe; and booths covered in black-and-white faux cowhide. The hostess pointed us toward a wide doorway at the far end of the Western-style bar, beyond a group of guys standing around trying to act cool.
    Nikki poked me in the back as we threaded through them. “Is it too late to cancel?”
    “You have to give this a chance, Nikki. And P.S., you look really great tonight.”
    She poked me again. “What do you mean by tonight ?”
    We entered a cozy, private dining area with warm maple wainscoting below butter-colored walls, and red candles on red-and-white-checked tablecloths. The round tables had been arranged along opposite sides of the room in double lines, with a wide aisle in between. At the back was a smaller bar where all the women attendees were now gathered.
    “Excuse me,” said a snippy voice from behind. “Your names, please?”
    I turned toward the speaker, a woman in her late thirties who sported a tag that read CARMEN GOLD, EVENT ORGANIZER. Ironically, Carmen Gold was dressed almost entirely in silver—a silver shrug covering her black satin halter top, a silver whistle on a black silk cord around her neck, silver bangles on her wrists, a dove gray satin pencil skirt, and glimmering silver high heels. She had long platinum hair, diamond cuff earrings, and soft pink lipstick with silver sparkles in it. Even her PDA was silver.
    Carmen had a heart-shaped face with hazel eyes accented by wing-shaped eyebrows, an upturned nose, double-wide mouth, and a long, sharp chin punctuated at the jawline by a large brown mole with two coarse black hairs growing out of it. Trying not to focus on her mole, I lowered my voice—heeding Lottie’s warning—to say, “Abby Knight and Nikki Hiduke.”
    Carmen pressed keys on her PDA, then pointed a daggerlike pink fingernail toward a young black woman with wavy black hair, coffee-colored skin, and almond-shaped eyes, seated behind a table nearby. “My assistant will run your credit cards.”
    “Carmen isn’t too friendly, is she?” I whispered.
    “She redefines the word aloof ,” Nikki whispered back. “And please, she couldn’t pluck those mole hairs?”
    After we paid, Carmen’s assistant gave us name tags, our lists of guys, and our table assignments. Nikki and I quickly compared lists, relieved to see that they contained the same names.
    “Remember,” Carmen said to our group, “you are to stop talking when the buzzer sounds, you are to have no body contact with anyone, and you are never to give out any personal information during