“Um…” Ana says, glancing up at me, “yeah, she, uh… she said something about needing to get laid and going to the bar instead?”
Tank and Pretty Boy cheer at her words, but I’m frozen. The thought of her in a bar by herself, picking up some random guy who could turn out to be a fucking serial killer makes me panic. But the vision of another man kissing her and touching her makes me see red; I’m probably leaving bruises on my legs with how hard I’m digging my hands into them. I need to fucking punch something… not to mention the fact that she replied to Ana’s message but not mine.
“Donovan,” Pretty Boy says, “which bar does she go to? If that’s the type of girl you can pick up there maybe we should go.”
I know Pretty Boy is joking, but the temptation to knock him on his ass right now is the highest it’s ever been.
“Fuck you!” Donovan says, “Seriously though, I hate the thought of her going out, especially when I’m not in town.If I’m there, she knows she can phone me if there are any issues. Maybe one of you should check in with her, she’ll be at Platinum.”
“I’ll go,” I say, “I haven’t drunk anything yet. Catch up soon, Donovan.”
I hang up before he even has a chance to reply, and without a word to anyone else I storm out of the clubhouse.
Platinum is definitely not the type of place I’d ever go. I’m parked opposite, watching the customers sitting at their tables with their expensive cocktails and bottles of champagne. The men are dressed in what I assume are designer suits and the women are in dresses, fancier than anything you’d ever see at the clubhouse, or any bar I’d go to that’s for sure.
So, these are the types of people Elizabeth spends her time with when she’s not with us, and she accuses me of not knowing shit about her when I call her a princess. A round in this place would probably buy ten drinks in the bars I go to.
There’s no way in hell they’ll let me in with my cut on, so reluctantly I take it off and store it in my bike’s lock box. Luckily, I’m wearing a plain black button-up shirt with black jeans and boots, so I should be able to blend in fairly well. Obviously, my neck tattoo is still on show, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
Striding to the entrance, I make my way in. Some kind of shitty jazz music is playing over the speakers, not the real stuff, something that’s sold as easy listening because it blends in and doesn’t offend anyone. If I spend too long here, I’ll feel like I’m stuckin a fucking elevator.
I scan the room, and it doesn’t take me long to spot Elizabeth, there’s not many people around with red hair like hers. Tonight, she’s wearing it loose, cascading down her back in waves. I’ve only ever seen it styled in that messy bun or braided like that night at the diner. I hate that other men have had the chance to run their fingers through it.
She’s sitting on a stool at the main bar, and some pendejo is standing next to her. Like the other guys I’ve seen, he’s in a designer suit, and clearly goes to the gym. He’s bigger than me, about the same height, but he’s probably at least fifteen years older than her, maybe more.
Elizabeth is wearing a black dress, judging by how much of her legs are on display, it’s short, but the sleeves are long, and the neck is high. Her legs are crossed in the direction of the man talking to her, his hands inching towards them, wanting to touch her porcelain skin. I don’t fucking blame him, but if he does, well, I hope he’s not too attached to his hands. My own hands are balled into fists, and I have to remind myself I’m not here to make a scene. I take a breath and make my way over.
Elizabeth
I’m in my usual spot at Platinum, camped at the bar where the staff know me. I help the manager with their website and advertising copy to earn some extra cash, and as I’ve helped their profits so much, she said I can always come here and they’ll look after me. The bar staff know to always serve me Soda & Lime, even when guys offer to buy my next drink and I order a Gin & Tonic. The men like the fact that I’m drinking, but I get to stay sober and have my wits about me.
They also warn me if any of the men who approach have acted like creeps in the past or give me a good escape route if I make the signal. If I knock my drink over, they’ll tell me there’s a call for me so I can go into the office and wait for a taxi. It’s a great system we’ve got going here.
The man in front of me tonight is dull as fuck, he works in finance and won’t shut up about it. But he’s attractive, and his tailored suit shows off his body in all the best ways. Besides, it doesn’t matter too much what he’s like, the most important thing right now is that I need a distraction from Diablo. Anything to stop me thinking about that kiss, the way his hands felt, how he pressed against me…
I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Mr. Finance saying, “Can we help you?”
He’s looking beside me and when I turn my head, I fear for a moment that I’m hallucinating.
Diablo is here.
I look back at Mr. Finance, who is still watching Diablo. Okay, not hallucinating.
“I said, can we help you?” Mr. Finance raises his voice, but Diablo ignores him, not even looking in his direction.
“Um… don’t worry about him,” I say, “I know him, he’s my best friend’s brother.” I glare at Diablo. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m just checking you’re okay, princess, considering that you haven’t replied to any of my messages,” he says.
“Princess?” Mr. Finance asks, “Look, Beth, I’m just here for a good time, I don’t want to get in the middle of any relationship drama—”
“No,” I say, “no relationship drama here.” I look at Diablo and fake politeness, “As you can see, I’m fine. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my conversation with Simon.” I nod my head in the direction of Mr. Finance.
“Actually, I do mind,” Diablo says.
I cannot fucking believe him, what is his problem?
“Maybe I should go,” Mr. Finance says, picking up his drink, but I stop him with a hand on his forearm.
