“Oh. You’ve—”
I nod, a smirk playing at the corner of my mouth. “A few times.”
“Frog,” she mutters under her breath.
•
I rap my knuckles against the door frame of Colt’s office before letting myself in. The place is a mess; papers are spread across the desk, the drawers of the file cabinet against the wall are visibly disorganized, and there are three cups of coffee sitting on the desk.
“God damn,” I laugh, “you leave this mess for your wife?”
“No.” He reaches for one of the coffee cups and I drop myself into a chair in front of his desk. “I’m actually hoping that she won’t see it before I get it cleaned up.”
“Your shit is falling apart, old man.” I grab one of the framed photos on his desk, turning it over in my hand to see his smiling family all grouped together like a fucking Hallmark card, and set it back in its place on the desk. “Perfect excuse for a night out. Boys and I got a table, you’re comin’.”
“I’m assuming that I can’t say no to this invitation.”
“Not a chance in hell, ya old bastard,” I tell him with a grin, standing to smack him on the arm. “Don’t wear a fuckin’ suit, either.”
The man probably has four t-shirts in his closet and a hundred different fucking custom-tailored suits, and I’m the polar opposite. I think I own ten suits, total, that I cycle through as needed because I fucking hate wearing them.
Colt’s up to six cars that he treats like they’re as meaningful to him as the art that he keeps around his house, and I have an Aston Martin convertible and a goddamn Chevy Silverado that I take offroad every now and again.
And I prefer the Chevy.
I’m not always sure why our friendship works as well as it does, because we’re so damn opposite each other, but he’smy brother. Blood doesn’t mean shit when it comes to family, it’s the people you can call to bail you out of jail or to help you get rid of a body in the middle of broad fucking daylight, and Colt has quite literally bailed me out of jail before.
A handful of times, actually.
Even through his own shit, he’s been there for everything, and I’d do the same for him. This shit is for life; he’s stuck with me.
SEVEN
Sophia
After waiting in line for more than half an hour, we finally make it past the security check and into the belly of the beast that is Arcane. The bass of insanely loud EDM music pours out of the speakers and sends shockwaves into my ribcage. It’s jam-packed in here, barely an inch of room between each body.
“Did you have to bring that?” Ava asks, inclining her head toward my little flower-embroidered bag as we wait for our drinks to be made.
“It was a birthday present,” I tell her, sticking my nose in the air.
Ava is one of those girls who are so pretty, it hurts. We’ve only been here for five minutes and she’s already getting stared at by the people around us. Men love the confidence with which she carries herself and her generous, perfectly-placed curves. Women tend to either hate her because they aren’t her, or because they want to be with her.
We decided to wear matching neon dresses tonight, and the bright, vibrant green of hers pops beautifully against her rich espresso-brown skin. Any one of these guys would be lucky to take her home tonight, and a couple will probably beg to, but she won’t let them. She never does.
I grab her by the hand and lead her toward the bar, squeezing into what little space is available so we can order a couple of cosmos. The bartender here pours a little heavier than Vin does, so the drinks pack a punch when we take our first sips.
Ava wraps her hand around my wrist and pulls me away from the bar and into the crowd of people dancing. We weave our way through the densely-packed club until we get close to the DJ’s speaker system, making the music rattle through my chest.
We move our bodies to the music, sipping on our drinks until they’re empty. You have to finish your drinks fast in clubs like this; it’s too packed to keep them safe much longer than a song or two, and I’ve seen too many girls get drugged to trust anyone that I didn’t come here with. So drink it down and toss it out.
Surprisingly - refreshingly, we make it through a full hour and a handful of drinks before a couple of men approach us. One of them is blond, wearing a gold watch similar to the one my boss wears all the time, but obviously cheaper. The other has darker hair and a short beard that he clearly takes care of.
The bearded one puts his hand on Ava’s waist, pulling her close to him, and she turns to look at him, shaking her hand at her throat to signal ‘no’ to him. For years, I’ve watched people of all sexes try to take her home, and for years I’ve watched her turn them down. It never gets less funny to see the offense on their face at her rejection.
Like you’re some gift to women, Chad, please. If you are, whoever sent you didn’t follow the wish list.
Even though his friend was turned down, the blond one stays pressed up against me, getting a little too comfortable with letting his hands roam over my skin.
