Chapter 22. Shane and Noelle

Shane was suffering from a bad case of nerves. This never happened to him, and it freaked him the fuck out. He gazed at his reflection in the oval mirror hanging above the black marble sink and straightened his perfectly tied bowtie and fixed his flawless hair. He was hiding out in the men’s room like a pussy. Not that he had seen Noelle yet, and not that he knew for sure she would be there, but he fucking hoped she would be. She still refused his calls. Her phone seemed to be off most of the time, and the few times his calls went through, she didn’t answer. None of his texts were returned. He had no way of getting to her, short of showing up at Robert Spencer’s mansion, which seemed a bit risky, considering the man signed a lot of checks that eventually paid Shane’s bills. Stalking his daughter may not leave the best impression on the man.

“Fuck,” he cursed in frustration.

He needed a few shots to get his nerves in check, but he also wanted to be sober so he could talk