Authors: Dakota Madison
I grab Roxie’s elbow and pull her close. “What, we don’t look like old pals?”
He bartender laughs. “The two of you are about the furthest thing from looking like old pals as you can get.”
“We’re drinking buddies,” I state.
The bartender nods. “Does that mean you both want the usual?”
“You remember my drink?” I blurt.
The bartender gives me a shit-eating grin. “Don’t look so surprised, Princess. You’re not easy to forget.”
His eyes lock with mine and his stare is intense. There’s a de
finite exchange of energy between us. The guy is probably dynamite in the sack.
Roxie bangs on the bar to get the bartender’s attention.
“Hey, you two. No eye fucking right in front of me, okay?”
The bartender gives Roxie his full attention.
“The usual?”
Roxie nods.
“Might as well start a tab. I plan on drinking a while. Let’s see if the skinny ass princess can keep up with me.”
Roxie eyes me and I know it’s a challenge.
I scoff. “I can drink your fat ass under the table.”
“Care to make a wager,” she challenges.
“You’re on,” I reply. Even though I’m not sure I can win I never back down from a bet.
The bartender, who has been taking in the conversation, says, “My money is on
Trailer Park.”
I glare at him. “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
“Come on, Princess,” he replies. “She’s more than twice your size.”
I give a quick glance at Roxie and she’s grinning from ear to ear. She doesn’t seem to be offended by the bartender’s co
mments at all. If only I could have that much confidence in my body.
I decide to play with the bartender some more. “So you’re saying size does matter?”
He bartender leans in toward me and our eyes lock again. The guy definitely has something going on because I can feel a slight shiver work its way down my spine. “Oh, Princess. If you have to ask that question, you haven’t been with the right man yet.”
“And you’re the right man?” I challenge.
He shakes his head. “I think I’m a little too much for a princess to handle.”
His comment actually makes me a little angry.
Guys don’t usually turn me down.
“Let’s get a table,” I say to Roxie and she nods. We grab our drinks and head over to a table in the corner of the lounge.
“You know he’s just playing with you,” Roxie says as we take our seats. “He likes getting under your skin.”
“Whatever,” I say dismissively. “He’s just a bartender.”
“Uh, huh,” she says but she’s eyeing me like she doesn’t believe I’m not upset.
“Okay, so he did get under my skin. He’s good at it.”
Roxie laughs. “You’ve just so perfect. You know it pisses people off. They want to see if they can knock you down a few pegs.”
I’ve never had anyone talk to me
the way Roxie does. It infuriates me but I love it. It’s refreshing.
Roxie knocks back her drink in one swallow and I realize I have my work cut out for me
if I want to keep up with her. She raises a hand and snaps a finger.
A petite waitress hurries over to our table. Her jaw drops when she sees Roxie.
“Another Maker’s Mark neat,” Roxie says pointing to her glass.
“You’re one of the Trailer Park Trio,” the waitress says in disbelief. Why does everyone seem to know about this show but me? Maybe I should start to use my Netflix account a little more often.
Roxie nods to the waitress then turns to me. “Want another drink?”
I look at my glass and see that it’s still half full. I swig the contents, struggling to keep it down without gagging then nod.
“And another one for my friend,” Roxie adds.
The waitress is still staring at Roxie in awe. “I loved your show.”
“Thanks,” Roxie says. She and the waitress continue to look at each other until the waitress finally snaps out of her awe-inspired trance.
“I’d better get those drinks,” the waitress says finally as she turns and makes her way to the bar.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Mr. Hottie from class?” Roxie asks. She definitely doesn’t beat around the bush.
“You mean Aaron?” I clarify.
“Well, I definitely don’t mean Les.”
I think about how much I want to reveal to Roxie. I can def
initely use an ally but I need to figure out if she’s as ruthless and cunning as I suspect she is.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” I start.
“But you want more,” Roxie finishes my thought.
“I want a lot more,” I admit.
“So what’s the problem?’ Roxie asks.
“His fiancé, Rainy
Dey.”
Roxie raises an eyebrow. “How is she a problem?”
I grin because it’s obvious that Roxie
is
as ruthless and cunning as I suspected. And she’ll be the perfect ally in my scheme to get Aaron.
I tell Roxie everything. How I’ve been in love with Aaron for years. How much our parents want us to be together. Everything I know about his relationship with Rainy.
I completely spill my guts over multiple rounds of Maker’s Mark.
Then I tell her that I want her help in devising a plan to get Aaron and she readily agrees.
“I love the way your mind works,” she says. Her words are a bit slurred after our sixth or seventh round of drinks. I’ve completely lost count. “Ever given any thought to producing reality television?”
I start laughing and I can’t stop. I’ve never even seen a reality show and here I am sitting with a reality show star and apparently one of the biggest reality show producers in the business. It’s surreal. I wonder what my parents would think about it.
When the waitress comes back to our table, I know I’m in trouble because I’m seeing two of her.
“Another round?” she says but it sounds like she’s talking to us from underwater even though we’re still in the bar.
I can feel myself shake my head but my head feels like it’s somehow disconnected from my body.
“I could still drink a few more,” Roxie slurs. “That means I win our little wager.”
When I point at Roxie, my arm feels fake. “Prove it,” I slur.
“Another drink,” Roxie snaps but the waitress looks co
ncerned.
“Maybe you’ve had enough,” the waitress replies.
“It’s not over until the fat lady sings,” Roxie belts out.
I laugh. “I don’t think I want to hear you sing.”
“We’ll take the check,” Roxie states.
I’m surprised when the bartender comes back with the check. “Did you both have fun?”
“We had a great time,” I say a little too enthusiastically because the liquor is really starting to hit me.
“Should I call a cab?” he suggests.
“I can drive,” I insist.
The bartender shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”
“I don’t like being told what to do.” I glare at the bartender.
He glares right back at me. “I don’t care. You,
Princess, are not getting behind the wheel of a car.”
I gulp. There’s an edge to this guy that actually scares me a bit and I’m not easily shaken. And in a weird way, it’s even a bit of a turn on.
“Why don’t you call that boyfriend of yours to pick you up?” the bartender suggests.
“I already told you I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said.” He sounds unconvinced.
When I glance over at Roxie, her eyes are narrowed. “You have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I insist.
“Why don’t you text the guy who’s not your boyfriend to come and pick you up?” the bartender prods.
“Hell of an idea,” Roxie agrees. “I want to see this guy who’s supposedly not your boyfriend.”
When the bartender and Roxie high-five each other, I heave a sigh.
“Fine, I’ll text him.”
I look at my watch
and I’m actually shocked to see it’s only a little after six. It seems much later. But that’s what happens when you start drinking in the early afternoon.
I grab my phone from my purse and text Evan.
Me:
Where are you?
Evan:
Where are you?
Me:
The bar at the hotel
where I stayed for graduation.
Evan:
Are you drunk?
Me:
Maybe a little
.
Evan:
You want me to pick you up?
Me:
Roxie too.
Evan:
Who is Roxie?
Me:
You’ll see.
Evan:
I’ll be there in 10
.
“There,” I say as I put my phone back in my bag. “Are you happy?”
“You made my day, Princess,” the bartender says and I know he’s making fun of me.
As the bartender heads back to his place behind the bar, Ro
xie turns to me and asks, “So who is this guy who’s not your boyfriend.”
“His name is Evan,” I reply.
“Is he hot?” she counters.
I think about the question for a moment. “Yes, very.”
Roxie’s eyes narrow. “Have you done the nasty?”
I suddenly feel uncomfortable talking about Evan with Roxie and I’m not sure why. I had no trouble talking to her about Aaron.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
“But he’s not your boyfriend?” Her expression is puzzled.
“No, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Why not?
Doesn’t he satisfy you?”
“Believe
me, we have no trouble in that department.”
“So let me get this straight.” She points to her index finger for emphasis. “You have a seriously hot guy, who’s great in the sack, but he’s not your boyfriend.” She points to her middle finger next. “And you’ve got another hot guy, who you think you’re supposed to be with, who happens to be engaged to someone else.” Then she points to her ring finger. “For some reason you don’t want to be with the hot guy, who you’re actually screwing because you want to be with the
other hot guy, who is screwing someone else.”
I nod. “That pretty such sums it up.”
“You are one fucked up skinny ass chick. Are you sure you don’t want your own reality show?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Pass on what?” I turn to see Evan walking up to our table.
Roxie catches my attention with a look that says Evan is hotter than she expected.
When Evan glances at Roxie, I see a look of recognition sweep over his face.
“How do you know one of the Trailer Park Trio?” Evan asks me.
“Roxie and I are in the MBA program together,” I reply.
“Nice to meet you,” Roxie says as she puts out her hand.
Evan shakes it. “I’m Evan Warner.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Roxie states as she sneaks a sideways glance my way.
Evan grins.
“All good, I hope.”
“Very good,” Roxie taunts.
“So, you girls need a ride home? My chariot awaits.”
Roxie laughs. “Aren’t you a charmer? I can see why
Keira likes you.”
I kick Roxie under the table and she kicks me right back. Then we both get up and I feel much weaker in the knees than I expect. Before I take a tumble, Evan grabs hold of me and steadies me.
The heat of his body against mine starts my juices flowing and when I inhale a slight whiff of his cologne, my desire continues to pique.
“Where do you live?” Evan asks Roxie.
When she gives him her address he nods. “Good, it’s on the way.”
***
Thirty minutes later we’ve dropped Roxie off at her McMansion in a nouveau riche section of town and we’re headed to Evan’s place.
“Aren’t you going to take me home?” I ask.
“You’re coming back to my place,” he states.
“Why?”
“Because you obviously need someone to take care of you. You’re falling down drunk. You probably haven’t eaten a thing all day. And I want to make sure you’re okay.”
The thought of someone wanting to take care of me makes me smile. I’ve never had anyone take care of me before except if they were being paid. My parents were too busy to give a shit about anything except maintaining their image. They wanted a daughter who was model perfect in every
way, that they could show off to the world. And they hired a legion of nannies, tutors, maids, cooks and personal assistants to make sure every one of my needs was attended to so they wouldn’t have to deal with them.
Evan is right. When I try to step out of his car, I nearly fall on my face. He hurries over and grabs me and I fall into his arms instead.