“Not unless you want me
shitting on your doorstep. Good thing Owen’s gay, Su might’ve been the one
shitting on your doorstep.”
“Oh, I still might,” Su
says, grinning. Like she’d ever cheat on her man.
“Surely you can handle a ten
minute drink, Dane. C’mon, just one,” Saffron whines.
I say nothing back, but my
lack of a “No” is a clear “Yes.” This sister of mine has Adam and me right
where she wants us, right there in the palm of her hand. Neither of us ever
tells her “No”.
Thirty minutes later, I’m
sitting at the end of the bar with Adam. I’m on my second white rum. Saffron’s
mingling with her friends and friends of friends.
“The way things are headed,
we’re gonna end up drunk, man,” Adam says, as I order us another drink.
“Sure looks like it.” I
didn’t expect to get drunk tonight, but if we keep going like this we will be.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, standing up from my stool.
“Cool.” Adam glances over
his shoulder at his wife, checking on her.
That girl could talk all
night and she’s got options, she knows almost everybody in this place. One ten
minute drink! Yeah-fucking-right!
I head down the hall toward
the restrooms. Walking in my direction from the opposite end is the woman who
came third on that TV show. She’s with Kayla, one of the dancers responsible
for tonight’s production. The two of them are whispering and laughing, seeming
excited.
Brooklyn Scott is even more
attractive in the full brightness of this corridor, and I didn’t notice the
soft olive tone to her skin under the stage lighting. She was barely dressed
then, but now I’m seeing her in her own style of clothing, which I wouldn’t
have predicted. There’s no doubt that she’s feminine, but the jeans she’s
wearing look more like they should be on a man; they’re loose fitting and worn.
Her tight, black shirt that hangs off both shoulders shows the excellent shape
of her upper body, all toned and sexy.
We’re about to pass each
other.
“Great show tonight,” I say,
stopping a few feet away from her.
Not a single trace of
makeup, she’s fucking stunning. I’m cursing my sister in my head right now.
Her lips curve with
appreciation, excitement expressed in her moss green eyes. “Thank you, glad you
liked it,” she answers in a British accent I wasn’t expecting.
Kayla tugs on her arm.
“Brooklyn, we need to get a move on,” she says in a clipped tone.
Brooklyn smiles up at me
again, and they turn and walk into the bathroom.
Is
she too close to the doorstep?
“Oh. My. God,” I whisper the moment the door closes
behind us. “Who was that?” I ask my friend, Kayla.
“You do not wanna go there,”
she says.
“Erm, yes I do.
Trrrust
me, I do.”
I glance at the door as
though he’s still on the other side. He may as well be. The vision of him,
stood out there, is that clear. Tall. Muscular – from what I could see by the
fit of his shirt. That face. Those hazel eyes. Those lips. Smooth, clear skin,
the tone like a yummy milk chocolate sauce, the kind you can’t resist licking
off a spoon. Mmm, yes, lick.
“Hah! Yes, I do.” I’m on the
verge of hyperventilating.
She shakes her head firmly.
“No, you don’t. Trust
me
on this.”
It hits me. “Oh, is he
taken?” Someone who looks like him would be.
Another determined head
shake, her blue eyes offering certainty. “You are way too nice for him. You are
way too good for him. Just forget it.”
“I don’t get how. Did you
see him, Kayla? He’s proper buff.”
“I don’t mean looks-wise, I
mean you’re too nice a girl for him. That guy fucks, fucks, and fucks. I was
stupid enough to fuck his jerk-off of a friend. You really do not wanna go
there.”
“Oh.” My excitement deflates
like a wilted balloon which has the words ‘All Men Are Arseholes!’ printed
across it.
It’s typical; he’s
fuck-me-all-night hot, so it’s inevitable he’d either be taken, be a player, or
be gay. He’s definitely not gay and he’s not taken, but he is overly available.
“You’re disappointed,” she
says, her tone softening.
I scrunch my nose, nodding
my head. “I’m glad I know, though.”
I’m more than happy to be
warned about men like him. That’s my interest over and done with, just as soon
as it started.
Whilst Kayla gazes into the
mirror, finger combing her long, golden curls, I use the toilet. Once our needs
are attended to, we go to join the others for a celebratory drink.
We work our way through the
people gathered here. The place is packed. It’s really only my dance family I
know, so I go through the process of being introduced to a number of new faces.
Once I’ve become acquainted with some of the un-familiars, Kayla and I take up
a couple of stools at the far end of the bar, in the corner. The atmosphere in
here is great; the show and the response we got from the audience exceeded all
of our expectations. I’m still buzzing.
My best friend comes to join
us. “Leona,” I call, reaching out for a long, lazy hug.
Beneath my excitement, I can
feel emotional and physical fatigue lying dormant. Along with a month’s worth
of intense rehearsals and the associated stiffness and aches, which coincided
with jetlag, I’ve been very nervous about the show because tonight was my first
big performance in over three years. I’ve been extra stressed all day. Now it’s
over, I need to enjoy some alcohol in celebration, then go home to sleep and
rejuvenate.
The three of us sit and
unwind. Speaking at the right level, a little above normal, we can hear each
other well enough over the music playing and the other conversations in flow.
My much needed glass of red
wine is barely set down before I grab it and take my first sip. As the ruby
liquid rolls around my mouth, the plum flavor tickling my taste buds, I’ve
decided since it’s my day off tomorrow I really don’t need to stop at one. And
it is Saturday night, after all.
Lowering my glass, I glance
down at the other end of the bar and freeze mid movement.
Right there is that shit hot
guy from outside the toilets.
He’s talking to a man with
fair skin and what looks like well maintained stubble, long, straight brown
hair in a ponytail, and a tattoo on the side of his neck. They look so beyond
cool sitting there, oblivious to all around them.
Oblivious means that shit
hot guy doesn’t know I’m here, watching him.
How did I not notice him
there when I walked in? Was he there then?
This is one of those
life
is so unfair
moments. Even the little gold stud in the right side of his
nose is sexy. And those long, slender dreadlocks caught in a ponytail are the
most impressive, eye-catching locks I’ve ever seen.
He is
officially
the
most gorgeous, eye-catching man I’ve ever seen.
“Earth to Brooklyn,” Kayla
interrupts my lusting.
I look at her and she shakes
her head at me. It feels like she’s telling me off. I put my wine down. “I was
just thinking about what you said. That’s it, nothing more.”
“I know he’s not what you
want, okay?”
“I believe you.” I do.
“What’s all this?” Leona
asks, her curious brown eyes flitting between the two of us.
Kayla fills her in.
“Brooklyn’s lusting after dude over there, the one right on the end.”
Discretely, Leona glances in
his direction. Her response is to mouth “yum” and “very nice.”
“Yeah, nice all right, just
ask half the girls in San Francisco,” Kayla says.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“No interest in
relationships, he just fucks, fucks, and fucks. He doesn’t even lie about it or
try to hide it. You deserve way better than that. He’d probably break your
heart – he’s left a few of those in his wake already. He’s got a very good
reputation where the F-word is concerned, but not where the L-word is
concerned. I hear he’s very charming, so be aware of that if he ever speaks to
you again.”
“And you got involved with a
friend of his?”
“Yeah, the liar sucked me
right in. Chased me for weeks and then turned out to be a total-fucking-jerk.”
I can see she’s angry with
the other guy. If “dude over there” is the same, he can piss off. I’ll gladly
learn from Kayla’s mistake – I’ve made big enough ones of my own and I have no
intention of creating any others. I don’t care how stupidly gorgeous he is, or
how good he is at the F-word.
“I’m not asking out of
interest, just curiosity. What’s his name?”
“Dane.”
How weird? I just tingled
all over when she said his name. What the heck is that all about?
I shake my head. No, no way, I’m not going there. I
reach for my wine and take a large, disappointed gulp. And another.
“Don’t worry, Brooklyn, I’ll
take you to a rad Latin club next weekend. They have a live band and they serve
the best cocktails in the city. A little harmless flirting, we’ll have fun.
You’ll love it.”
I return Kayla’s grin with
my own, liking the sound of that. A night out would be good, and I love live
music.
As I place my glass back down
on the bar, Kayla suddenly ducks as though she’s grabbing for her bag on the
floor. “He’s totally looking over at you now.
Don’t
look yet, damn it!”
she says, as I was about to do just that.
Isn’t that a typical
reaction? I’m desperate to sneak a peek. Not because I want to look at him, I’m
already over him. I just want to see him looking at me. It’s purely an ego
thing. Though, going by what I’ve just been told, it’s not much to feel good
about, is it?
He’s a Shag Machine.
I’m just another random
female to someone like him.
San Francisco, and its
influx of tourists, is probably ideal for someone like him, too.
Fuck me. Did she really have to show up at the other
end of the bar, perfectly positioned so that I can see her? It’s like walking
by a store window and seeing something you really want on the other side, the
only one of its kind, but the place is closed.
Brooklyn is with a chick I
don’t know and Kayla, who’s no doubt filled her in on all the gory details.
Gerard is trouble, I don’t deny that, but we’re not the same men. Kayla
probably views me as just the same.
People are way too quick to
judge. If a lady is happy to go with me, whether it’s instigated by her or me,
and I’ve made things clear from my side, then what’s the problem? If I choose
not to go along with the whole exclusivity thing, how exactly does that make me
a bad guy? I really don’t see the issue if both parties are consenting adults.
Admittedly, I can be persuasive when necessary, some may call it charming, but
I never lead anyone to believe there’ll be any kind of commitment that’ll come
from it.
I enjoy women and I enjoy
sex. What the fuck is wrong with that?
I’m not out to prove myself
to anyone, people can think what they want. The only person I owe anything to
is my sister. I got involved with one of her friends years back, it was a
disaster, and there’s no longer a friendship. So, I stay away from anyone she’s
close to and my own female friends. I don’t mess around at work, either.
Beyond that, I do
what
and
who
I want.
I want to talk to Brooklyn.
I want to do a lot more than that, but I’d be happy to start there. It doesn’t
help that I’ve caught her glancing my way. If it was once I’d overlook it, but
it’s been a few times. Of course, Kayla’s probably already warned her not to,
but the frequency of her glances tells me she’d most likely speak to me.
“Don’t do it, brother,” Adam
says, grinning.
“She didn’t say I can’t
look.” My gaze returns to Brooklyn, who’s listening to her other friend, the
one I don’t know who also danced tonight.
“You are not just looking,
dude. It’s not worth it. Saff’ll freak.” He takes another swig of his Bud.
“I know. This is shit, man.”
I sip my beer, wishing I’d kept to rum.
Adam laughs. “Can you
imagine
the
conversation the three of them are having?
Kayla’ll be like, “
He’s hot, but he’ll fuck you and go,”” he says, in a
high pitched voice, sounding pretty damn feminine. “Then the one with the long
blonde hair will be like, “I hate those kind of guys, wanna be playas, they
can’t handle sophisticated women like us,” and your chick there will be like,
“You know what, he ain’t even that hot, sitting there looking like a Bob Marley
reject!”” We both burst into laughter.
“Bob
Marley reject! Dude, I’m hurt.”
Without intending to, I
glance at Brooklyn and catch her doing the same thing to me. She quickly looks
away. Yeah, I’m sure she’d prefer it if I didn’t know she’s watching me. She’s
more than welcome to know that I’m watching her.
Being positioned behind the
end of the bar, I can only see her from the lower ribs up, but that shirt hangs
so nicely off both shoulders, showing the smoothly curved lines of her upper
body. Her long, dark hair is pulled up into a messy bun, exposing the full
column of her neck. It’s like she’s been put there on display for me.
Damn, she’s tempting.
Adam’s right, I’m not just
looking.
“She’s not even from here,
she has a British accent. What does it matter, she’ll be gone after the show
ends, right?” I say.
Adam raises a shoulder,
meeting my gaze. “Maybe, but why push it? After tonight you probably won’t see
her again. For sure you’ll forget her by the time you get home.”
Fuck that, I wanna take her
home with me. I wanna spend all night enjoying her body, exploring her, and
learning all the most effective ways to make her come. Shit, I’d keep her with
me all day tomorrow, too.
So she’s friends with Kayla,
but after hearing her talk in the theater I know Brooklyn’s definitely not
friends with Saffron.
That makes her fair game,
right?