“HEYA, GINA,” JOSIE yells out above the crowd when I burst through the door at T-Boys. Ignoring the rest of the customers lining her bar, she waltzes right over to me with a shot of Fireball in hand. “Where’s lover boy and his kidney scraper tonight?” My ridiculous friend holds her hands out, thrusting her hips forward a few times.
“Hey, babe.” I lift the shot to my mouth, ignoring her question. The familiar burn of whiskey swimming down my throat says peace is just around the bend. I’ve shed my last tear for that motherfucker. If I can avoid thinking of him, talking about him, or being anywhere within a five-hundred-foot radius of him, I should have no trouble keeping this promise to myself. Me and whiskey…we got this.
“They’re pretty good.” I dip my head toward the stage, referring to the ’80s cover band who are belting out a shockingly good rendition of Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey. They must be new.
Josie drops my usual Crown and Coke and another shot of Fireball in front of me. “Yeah, lead singer’s pretty easy on the eyes, too,” she gushes, resting her chin in her hands and staring after him. I swear the girl has little pulsating cartoon hearts in her eyes.
“Don’t do it, Josie-girl. Men are nothin’ but trouble.” I take the second shot into my still-shaky hand and swallow it down. Fuck you, Mr. Ryan. You might have stolen my heart and destroyed it beyond repair…But I’m not giving you my shot, too.
“Trouble in paradise?” Nosy Josie pries while reaching beneath her bar to get the dude beside me a beer.
“You know…even the biggest, thickest, veiniest cock isn’t worth putting up with the dick attached to it after a while.” I catch myself gesturing with my hands to the size of that glorious penis, and quickly shove them under my ass, sitting on them, when the mouth of the guy beside me drops almost to the floor.
“I dunno, girlfriend. I might be willing to put up with a whole lotta bullshit for a dick that big and girthy.” Josie’s blue eyes widen, and she gives an exaggerated shiver. “Mmm. I’m getting pregnant just thinking about it.”
“You’re a freak.”
“Look who’s talkin’,” she teases before rushing over to the other end of the bar, where her customers have become impatient. I’m not used to this place being so busy, and I’m more than a little bummed that Josie can’t keep me company. The last thing I want is to be left alone with my thoughts.
“Well, well, Gina Bourque. Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” Oh God. I know that voice.
With a fake-ass smile, I spin in my stool. “Brent. How ya been?”
He shrugs, gesturing to the empty stool beside me, “Mind if I sit down?” Yes.
“Not at all.” My eyes give him a good once-over, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what I ever saw in this young boy. Sure, he’s all muscly and tan. Teeth are nice…bright and straight. “How’s school going?” I ask, and it feels like I’m talking to a child, instead of a man. A man I’ve fucked. Ew. Okay, now I’m just freaking myself out.
“Good. It’s going good.” Brent smiles, staring at me all googly-eyed. “What’ve you been up to?”
Like magic, another shot appears before me. Gotta love Josie. Before answering, I shoot it, chasing it down with the rest of my drink. “Bring me another, Josie!” I shout, banging the empty glass on the bar a few times.
When I turn back to the side, that boy is still there, staring at me as if waiting for something. “I’m sorry? Did you say something?”
Brent chuckles. “I asked where you been? Haven’t been seeing you ’round.”
“Me?” I laugh. Then, my eyes sweat a little as I remember where I have been the past few months. In Jeff’s bed. In my bed…with Jeff. The cruise. Nola. I cough, clearing my throat and my head. “Well, I’ve been getting my heart broken, Brent. Can’t say I recommend it.”
“I’m a good listener if you wanna talk about it.” He props his elbow on the bar top, resting his head in his hand, while tilting his face to the side. He hits me with those whiskey brown puppy dog eyes. Did that really turn me on before?
“Nope,” I say, swiping the drink my girl just put in front of me from the bar. “I wanna dance.”
Wiggling through the crowd, I make my way right up front and center. Sweat-soaked bodies bang up against mine as they dance without a fucking care in the world. I can’t wait for my buzz to hit—to drown this dreadful heartbreak in alcohol. To be blessedly numb to this godawful pain. To feel as good as these drunk sons of bitches who got a head start on me.
“Hell, yeah,” I shout when the beginning chords to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard flow through the speakers. The familiar beat moves through my body. With my eyes closed, I throw my hands into the air and imagine Jeffrey’s chest pressed to my back, his fingers creeping up my sides and cupping my tits. His mouth on my neck—sucking, tasting, teasing.
“Open up,” he rasps into my ear, nibbling the lobe. The bottom of a shot tube runs along my lips, and I open, welcoming the burn. I’m not sure what he just gave me, but it goes down smooth and further heats my blood. I’m so hot. So tingly and horny. I am so fucking horny.
Song after song, we remain out on that dance floor, fucking with our clothes on, and I can’t wait to bring him home…or well, he should probably take me home, because I am fucking trashed. And he’d better apologize, because I can’t remember why, but I’m mad at him. Really fucking mad. But, he’s such a good dancer. And I love him. I. Love. Him.
“God, you’re hot,” he says, spinning me around and draping my arms over his shoulders. Blinded by tears, we sway side to side to “Open Arms.” Then he’s kissing me and touching me in all the right places.
“Mmm,” I moan, trying to eat his face. Oh God, I want him so fucking bad.
“Gina!” Spencer shouts, ripping me from the arms of my dark prince. What the hell is she doing here?
“Hey besssstieee,” I slur, giggling because my voice sounds so funny. Like I’m under water. “He came. He came for me.”
“Who came for you, babe? What are you doing?” Spencer can be so dense sometimes. Those kids are eating up all her brain cells.
With my eyes, I motion over my shoulder. “Jeffrey, derrr.”
“Whoa,” I say, holding out my hands for balance when she yanks me over to the wall.
“That isn’t Jeffrey, Gina. I’ve never seen that guy before, and can I just say, ew. I can’t believe you let that nasty guy kiss you.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Spence has gone off her rocker because that was Jeff. Wasn’t it?
My bestie lets out an aggravated growl, and I kinda wanna tit-punch her because just who the fuck does she think she is, cock-blocking me? “Let’s go.” She pulls on my arm, dragging me toward the exit.
“Wait. Wait, Spence.” I dig my heels into the floor, trying to pull her back. “Get Jeffrey, please.”
“Gina,” she groans, pinching my cheeks together like she does to the twins when she wants them to look at her. I’m not her fucking kid. I’m a responsible adult, dammit. “Listen to me.”
“I’m lishunin,” I mutter through fish lips. She’s squeezing my mouth so damn hard…I bet it’d hurt if I were capable of feeling anything.
“That dude was not Jeffrey. I don’t know where Jeffrey is, and I’m sorry for whatever he did to you. But that was not Jeffrey.” A tear drips down my best friend’s cheek. “Do you understand?”
Tears well up in my eyes, spilling over, and my best friend pulls me to her chest. She rubs my back. Kisses my cheek. “Where is he?” I cry, digging my nails into her back.
“Oh, honey. I don’t know.”
“But h—how did you know I was here?”
“Josie called. Some guy named Brent told her you were nursing a broken heart and was afraid that dude would take advantage of you.” Her eyes dart back over to the dance floor.
A loud sob escapes my trembling lips. “Th—that really wasn’t m—my CEO?”
“No,” Spencer confirms, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and starting for the door. “That was something you’d have never touched sober. Ever.”
§
Oomf! What the—? Alcohol sloshes in my belly.
“Auntie Gigi!” My throat burns as Kyle bounces around on top of me. Where am I?
I try to pry my eyes open, but the light is like a laser beam. So, I feel around, coming to the conclusion that I must’ve slept on my best friend’s couch last night. “Savage,” I groan. “Auntie’s happy to see you too, but if you don’t get off of me I’m going to—”
“Eww!” He leaps off the couch two seconds too late, and now he’s dripping in vomit. “Daddy, Auntie frowed up on me!”
It’s like the flood gates have opened, because no matter how hard I try to stop, it just keeps spraying from my mouth. From my nose. Oh, God, it burns so bad. I swear it’s cooking the inside of my esophagus.
The sound of Cooper gagging only makes it worse. I’m gonna owe them a new couch, rug, hell maybe even a new house by the time this ends. I think maybe, I’m dying.
“Cooper, go give him a bath,” Spencer orders, approaching slowly with a huge gumbo pot. “Here, I don’t see how there could be much left in that tiny stomach of yours, but try to get it in this please?”
“I’m so sorry,” I finally groan once I’ve expelled every possible drop of alcohol from my body.
“Stop,” she says, as she finishes wiping down the couch. “Coop can get the carpet, you come with me.”
My best friend leads me up to her bathroom, runs me a bubble bath with candles, and pulls up a chair. “Get in and start talkin’.”
So, I tell her all about the shit show at Jeffrey’s house yesterday. About how he’s not even close to coming to terms with the death of his wife and probably never will be. And that maybe I could have handled it, if it were just him and me and Jessica.
“Spence, I love those girls, but I’m afraid to try to have a relationship with them because I’ll constantly have to worry that Jeff will blame me for the fact that Jessica isn’t there to do it herself.”
“Man, that’s tough.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
Shrugging, I sink down lower in the tub. “I’m already doing it.”
Spence doesn’t look to be at all impressed by my coping mechanism. “No repeats of last night, Gina. I don’t wanna wake up to find your ass dead in a ditch one day.” Her tone is light, but with one look at her face there is no mistaking how worried she is.
I have basically no recollection of last night, from the moment I stormed out of Jeffrey’s house ’til Spencer was dragging me out of T-Boys. The look on my bestie’s face tells me it’s a damn good thing I don’t remember.
“I mean it,” she says, when I don’t answer. “That guy was fucking creepy. You’re hurt. I get it, but that is not the right way to handle it.”
“Thank you for saving me, bestie.”
She snorts.
“And I promise I’ll handle it better.”
“No more bars?”
Cut off my right arm why don’t’cha. “Okay. But, I’ll probably be over here a lot.”
“Fine.”
“And you’ll have to keep me stocked on mommy porn,” I giggle. “That shit’s addictive.”
