High Strung (Power Station Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

convinced. She saw through my bullshit and knew it was a Hail-Mary move, an effort to reenter the corporate world in the hopes of getting something more suitable in the future.
    “So why don’t you take a night off from your grand plan and get crazy with me?”
    “Um, no. My plans for this evening include being online, job hunting, while drowning my sorrow in three-cheese pie from Carmine’s Pizzeria.” The promise of cheesy goodness was guaranteed to make my night suck slightly less than my day had.
    “Ashlyn, you can take one night off from being responsible. One night, come out with me. Get drunk. Act like a regular twenty-seven-year-old. Who knows, maybe find some totally inappropriate guy and make out with him on the dance floor.” Megs lifted herself off the sofa; the conversation was far from over.
    “Megs, you know that isn’t me. Besides, I can’t afford it and I have nothing to wear.”
    “So borrow something of mine. I have a whole closet full of clothes; pick anything you like. And it’s my treat so you can’t use money as an excuse.”
    “What do you think one night is going to achieve?” I couldn’t see the point in her expedition, other than delaying the inevitable mind-numbing search through pages of dead-end employment opportunities. And possibly sparing myself an increase of calories that was probably going to land straight on my ass.
    “Nothing. That’s the whole point. Sometimes you don’t need to achieve anything. You can just do it for fun. So come on. Be reckless, we can even pick up some pie on the way out. Angelo’s is just as good as Carmine’s.” Megs wiggled her eyebrows enthusiastically.
    I wanted to argue, to tell her no, but in all honestly, it was easier just to give in. One night wasn’t going to change anything and if it meant appeasing Megs and making her happy, then I could put off my pity party for twenty-four hours and hit it hard tomorrow. Besides I knew she wasn’t going to let up until I agreed. She would probably blow up my phone until I eventually gave in, so I was probably just saving us both the time in between.
    “Fine. I’ll go,” I conceded, raising my hands in defeat. “Tonight better not suck.”
    ****
    After a quick trip home to Brooklyn, I packed an overnight bag, ignored the final notice bills stuffed in my mailbox, and made my way back to the city. I had decided that while I was happy to raid Megs’s wardrobe for our evening adventure, I wanted to get a few personal items to equip me to crash on Megs’s sofa, rather than to try and navigate my way home later in the dark.
    I had settled on a simple, fitted, little black dress that was way shorter than I was comfortable wearing, teamed with a pair of my own chunky black wedges. It was by far the most conservative outfit Megs had decreed acceptable, nixing most of my earlier choices. I made my peace with the fact I was going to be flashing a little more flesh than usual, applied some makeup, and left my long hair untethered to tumble down my back.
    “You look great. Stop tugging at your hem,” Megs whispered as we stepped out of the cab and onto the sidewalk.
    I couldn’t help it; the dress barely covered my ass and it had been a challenge not to flash anything as I navigated out of the cab.
    “It’s so short.” I couldn’t resist giving the dress one last tug as we made our way to the long line that stretched out in front of the doorway of Panic , the ironic name of the club Megs had taken us to.
    “We are going to be out here forever. This line is so long.” The girl in front of us complained. Her male counterpart simply shrugged and pushed his hands into his pockets. She was right; it was going to be a long wait.
    “Let’s see if there isn’t a quicker way.” I smiled, pulling Megs out of line and approached the giant who was guarding the entrance.
    “You ladies on the list?” The large bouncer looked us over, his security number swinging from the chain around his thick