Fully Automatic (Bullet) (28 page)

Brad couldn’t keep it out of his voice anymore.  It was all he could do to not jab Ethan in the chest with his finger.  All that emotion he’d been bottling up inside…  “You don’t deserve her.”

“Fuck that.  I make her happy.”

Brad fought to not punch his friend in the face, even though Ethan had it coming.  “Does she
look
happy to you?”

Ethan smirked.  “You
heard
her yourself.”

Oh…fuck that.  It took everything in Brad to not just beat the shit out of his friend.  Not only was Ethan being a
certified asshole to the woman who’d fallen prey to his charms, but he was rubbing his best friend’s nose in it.  Ethan had to know Brad cared for Val…a lot.  So to throw that out there…  Still, he wanted Valerie to be happy, and that was what he was going to focus on—not the red rage and jealousy threatening to overtake him.  “Ethan, you’re a mess.   You know it and I know it.   You wanna
make
her happy?   Get your shit together, man.”

Ethan got close to Brad, raising his shoulders to give the appearance that he was almost as tall as his friend.  Brad felt a primal urge inside himself, the part of him that would have survived pre-civilization, and it wanted him to give in, to just get physical with his friend, beat some sense into him
—or at least to beat him into submission.  Out of the corner of his eye, Brad saw Zane walk in from the kitchen.  Apparently, even their friend sensed what was in the air.

But then the front door opened…to none other than Val.  Brad didn’t want to back down from the challenge, but at the same time, he didn’t want to upset Val.  He couldn’t quite pull his eyes away from Ethan’s, wasn’t going to, because he knew his friend would view that as a sign of weakness, no matter why he’d looked away.  When she closed the door and started to approach them, though, they both backed down.  Nothing would happen now.  She said, “What’s going on?”

Brad took a small step back and looked at Val.  He cleared his throat and hoped he could pull off the lie.  He knew she’d know anyway, but he had to say it just the same…out of respect to both her and Ethan.  “Nothing.  Just a little misunderstanding.”

Ethan had an angry look on his face, but he wasn’t going to contradict Brad.  “Yeah.”

Brad inhaled, trying to shift gears.  “How was work?”

Val shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes looked concerned.  “Nothing exciting.”

Brad nodded and forced a smile.  He too had to do what he’d just lectured Ethan about.  He couldn’t make Val happy either if he was constantly poking at Ethan and making him mad.  Val certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know about their argument.  So…he’d have to just keep his mouth shut.  “Well…you’re home now.  Take a load off.”

He saw the look that crossed Val’s face as she looked
at Ethan.  The girl loved the guy—for better or worse.  Yeah…it would be best for Brad to just go finish writing another song and keep his goddamned mouth shut.  She loved his friend, and there wasn’t a damn thing he’d be able to do about it.  Not now, at any rate.

But he was going to have to find a way to get over it.  Val had made her choice…and he was going to have to find a way to live with it.

Chapter Thirty-three

IN THEORY, BRAD
was making peace with the Val-Ethan thing.  But the next time he heard her having another orgasm, he couldn’t take it anymore.  When he slept in the living room, he’d taken to playing movies on the computer until he fell asleep; it also helped drown out any potential noise.  In the bedroom, though, it was a crap shoot.  He’d been able to sleep the following night he’d been in there, but his next night after that, Ethan was giving it to her good, and he just couldn’t lie there and listen to their lovemaking.

Val should have been his girl.

He shouldn’t have waited, shouldn’t have been patient.  From the second he’d seen her, he should have acknowledged whatever it was between them and acted on it.  He should have made it his mission to wipe Ethan out of her mind.

Part of him knew it wouldn’t have worked, but he couldn’t stop kicking himself for not having tried.

Damned if he was going to lie there listening.   He was tempted to lie on Ethan’s bed in the living room.  That too would force his friend to think about staying with Val all night instead of sneaking out of there like an uncaring bastard.

He got up and put on a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt, then found his boots beside the bed.  He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he couldn’t stay
in the apartment.  He grabbed his black leather jacket out of the closet, because the evenings were starting to cool off, and then he tucked his wallet, phone, and keys into the pockets.  He turned off the bedroom light and opened the door as quietly as possible, trying not to make a sound as he crossed the kitchen linoleum.  When he got out the apartment door, he walked normally down the hall, the fear of waking up or alerting his roommates no longer a worry.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do
or where he would wind up, but he figured if he was gone for a few hours, they’d be asleep if nothing else.  He got in his car and drove around for a while and then decided he knew what he wanted.  He didn’t know if he was too young for it or not, so he pulled out his phone.

Yeah…there was a BYOB stripper joint a few miles south of his location
and the only requirement was that he be over eighteen.  He needed some entertainment, something that would take his mind off his emotions, and having some nude girls dancing in front of him for a while might do the trick.  Just driving there, thinking about it, having a goal in mind made him feel better.

He had to show his ID at the door to verif
y his age.  He was glad it wasn’t a bar or he would have been fucked.  He was also glad he had more cash than he’d thought he would need.

At first, he’d thought it was perfect.  Dozens of hot women were grinding and dancing right in front of him.  He hadn’t completely known what to expect, having heard on occasion about how the women at these kinds of places weren’
t actually attractive, but the women here were damned sexy.

Unfortunately, the ladies—even the drop dead gorgeous ones—just weren’t doing it for him.  They weren’t Val and his pain was too fresh.  It had been an excellent thought, but it wasn’t doing a thing to pull him out of his funk.
  He could even imagine one of these hot girls doing anything nasty to him, because he couldn’t get Valerie out of his head.

One of the women—a girl introduced to the audience as Sugar—looked like Val, except she was probably a few years older.  She was a little short but cute with long, dark brown hair.  She didn’t smile but Brad suspected that if she had, her cheeks would have looked
like Val’s when she would.  Val’s smile lit up her entire face.

That thought just made Brad pissed because he couldn’t even stop thinking about her here.  She consumed his thoughts.

And here was this gorgeous angel, ready to peel clothing off at any given moment.  She was dancing to some hip hop tune Brad had no chance of recognizing.  More than once the girl looked him straight in the eyes.  She was probably wondering why he didn’t move closer and give her a dollar bill or two.

He glanced down to check the hour on his phone.  It was probably about time that he could leave
and go home to peace and quiet.  But he was first going to allow himself to try to enjoy one or two more acts.  He tried to clear his mind and focus on the woman onstage.

The girl who called herself Sugar ground herself next to the pole, thrusting and pumping, and if Brad hadn’t felt like shit, he would have thought it was one of the hottest things he’d
ever seen.  The woman had long, straight dark hair and green eyes.  She was stacked.  Brad couldn’t tell if her tits were real or fake, and he didn’t care.  Either way, they were a work of art.  She was thin but curvy and, goddamn, did she know how to move.  She was sexy and she earned every bill thrown on the stage at her.  And, even though Brad knew all the men at the base of the stage gripping their drinks were under her spell, something didn’t look quite right to Brad.  He couldn’t figure out why.  But then he realized it was probably his own shitty mood overshadowing what he thought he saw.

Sugar left the stage, making way for “Sexy Sapphire,” and Brad
took another sip of his water.  He was considering going home and seeing if they had anything else to drink somewhere in the apartment or if someone had hidden some weed somewhere.  He needed to become numb.  He didn’t want to feel anymore, not tonight anyway.  He was done, and he couldn’t let himself continue feeling the way he had been.  He had to get over this shit.

He was glad he was sitting farther back, because he didn’t have any of the incidental conversation, with either the danc
ers or the guys.  He’d never been to a strip club before, so he didn’t know enough to know if conversation was normal or not, but he didn’t want to chance it.  If he’d been hanging with friends, it would have been one thing, but talking about sex or a hot chick with a complete stranger when all he was trying to do was ward off an erection might be weird.

Ten more minutes, and he was going to leave, and just as he had that thought
, a girl sat next to him.  Brad could sense she was trying to get his attention, so he turned his head to look at her.  The woman was dressed in ripped jeans and a tank top covered with a jean jacket.  She had tall black boots on that were, Brad could admit, sexy, but he was not in the mood.  It took a few seconds, but then he realized the woman sitting next to him was Sugar, the stripper who’d gotten his attention onstage earlier.  When he made eye contact, she said, “Hey.”

She was young. 
Onstage, she’d looked older, but up close, he could tell her real age was closer to teens than thirties.  If she was older than Brad, he would have been surprised.  She looked him over and gave him a flirtatious smile.  He said, “I know you have to work, but you might as well know I’m not in the mood tonight.  Those guys over there?” he said, tilting his head toward the guys at the bottom of the stage.  “They’re the ones you should be talking to.”

“I’m off the clock.  Why?  Did you
want
a lap dance?”

He shook his head.  “No.  Thanks.”

“Really, I’m off the clock.  I just thought you might want to talk.”

Brad smiled and pried his eyes away from the stage.  “Talk?”

“Yeah.  You look…kinda sad.  I thought maybe you wanted to talk about it.”  He didn’t say anything, instead taking another swig of his water.  Yeah, he bet that looked really cool too.  He probably looked like a kid.

“You’re not gonna get anything from me.”

“I said I’m not working.  I just thought maybe you and me could go grab a cup of coffee.  I don’t know why that has to seem sinister.”

Brad couldn’t help himself.  He started laug
hing.  He downed the rest of the water.  “Fine.  We’ll go have a cup of coffee.”

“Great idea.  You’ve already seen the best act of the night anyway.”

He smirked.  “Where are we going, Sugar?”

She eyed him.  “Well, first things first.  Don’t call me
Sugar
.”

“What should I call you?”

“My real name’s Joanne.  Call me Jo.  What’s your name?”

“Brad.”  He stood.  “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Brad had already figured out she was using him so she could get a ride home, and
, for some reason, he was okay with it.  He wound up buying the coffee too…and then a piece of pie for her on top of that.  She could afford a few calories.  He didn’t mind.  She was gorgeous and she was making him smile.

Yeah, he suspected she made more in a night than his band usually did, but she’
d worked hard for it, and—unlike his dreams for the band—she probably didn’t want to spend her whole life stripping.  He figured she wanted to save up and get out.

She offered Brad a bite of the pie
, and he grinned but shook his head at her.  He sipped at the coffee.  It was good.  He was glad he’d taken her up on her suggestion.  After she took the last bite of the pie, she said, “So…do you only go to strip clubs when you’re depressed as hell?”

He smiled.  “
Depressed?
  Did I
look
depressed?”

“Uh,
yeah
.  Totally.  You didn’t smile until I started talking to you.”  He wanted to deny it, but he knew it was true.  She took a sip of her coffee and winked.  “Guys like you make it hard for me to do my job.”

Okay, yeah.  He was smiling more than he had in a week.  “How so?”

She huffed as though she couldn’t believe him.  “We know we’re doing a good job when guys can’t take their eyes off us or they get this look in their eyes.  And sometimes—now I
know
this is gonna seem weird to you—but they, like,
smile
.  We can tell we’re appreciated.  Shit.  If my boss had walked in and seen your face, I would have gotten my ass reamed.”

“Seriously?”

“No, not really.  But if all the guys around you and in front of me had looked like that, I bet I would have been in trouble.”

“I’d say
sorry
, but the reason I went was so
you
could cheer me up.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “
That’s
not my job.”  He shrugged and took another sip of coffee.  She was losing her amusement factor really fast and was pushing at becoming annoying.  She gasped and said, “Oh, no.  Depressed man has returned.”  He shook his head.  “So…why don’t you tell me what’s got you down? Talking can help.”

“No, thanks.”

“Seriously.  You’re probably thinking I’m just the stupid whore who gets up on the stage and strips and then tries to find a guy who I can talk out of money, but that’s not it.  I asked if you wanted to hang, because I’m not feeling so happy either.  I guess I’m just better at putting on a happy face.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  See, I got this boyfriend…”  The waitress stopped by their table and filled up their cups, asking if they needed anything else, but they told her no.

“A boyfriend…”

“Oh, yeah.  He’s usually a great guy.  Sweet, gorgeous, treats me right, but…sometimes he’s not.”

“I take it right now, he’s not?”

“Yeah.  In fact, he’s a real asshole right now.  Part of the problem is…”  She looked around.  “Well, I’ve said too much already.”

Brad couldn’t figure out this girl’s angle.  He
continued to feel like she was trying to work him out of money.  She was going to be sorely disappointed to find out that he was worried if he was going to be able to pay the rent, let alone give her any money to show him a good time.  He didn’t know that he was in the mood for sex anyway.

He almost laughed out loud at the thought. 
Of
course
, he would be in the mood for sex.  He never hadn’t been, no matter what his prevailing mood—sad, angry, happy.  Sex could enhance a good mood or change a bad one.  And this girl?  Very hot.  But he didn’t think he trusted her.  So he sipped his coffee.  He wasn’t going to encourage her either way.

“Let’s just say when he’s a bad boyfriend, he’s very bad, and that makes me want to spend time with someone else.”  Brad nodded.  She raised an eyebrow.  “Not just drinking coffee and eating pie.”  She lowered her voice
, and Brad didn’t know if she’d done it on purpose, but the quality of her words turned husky.  “It makes me want to be naughty with someone else.”

He nearly spat his coffee out, but he managed to keep his cool.  Holy fuck.  He’d been getting ready to find a way to usher her back out to the car and get her home, and now it was all he could do to not get a massive hard on.  He couldn’t help the look on his face, and he knew it was a mixture of incredulity, intrigue, and hunger.  He hadn’t had a good fuck in a long time, and now, considering the possibility that this girl was really offering, he could think of little else.
  That she’d said she had a boyfriend didn’t even cross his mind.  He still didn’t know that he trusted her, though, so he raised his eyebrows and said, “Yeah?”

“Yeah…but, first, you need to tell me what’s got you down.  I already know it’s a girl, all right.  Just tell me more.  I want to know.  I want to know you feel like I do.”