I scoffed and replied.
ROMAN: Cancel. I’ll pay you double.
She texted back almost immediately.
CASEY: My client is already paying me more than double my usual rate. I can see you tomorrow if you’d like.
I tightened my hold on the phone, squeezing until I heard the plastic creak.
ROMAN: How much? Give me a number, and I’ll pay it.
I wasn’t worried about the money. I had more than enough to go around.
CASEY: I really can’t. I have to go now. Text me tomorrow if you want to hook up.
A growl ripped from my lips as I tossed the phone to my desk. I pushed my chair back and stood in one swift motion. I paced over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked down on the city below. My jaw was clenched, and my spine was straight. I wasn’t in the mood to wait. I couldn’t wait. That’s when I realized that I’d have to do it the way that every other person on the planet had to do it. I had to go out and find someone with the same goal as mine. It was either that or to take matters into my own hands, and I knew that wouldn’t do the job. Jacking off after you’d had sex was like trying to eat your broccoli after ice cream—you could do it, but nobody really wanted to.
Tightening my hand into a fist and clenching my jaw, I turned away from the window to gather my things to take off for the day. One of the perks of being the boss was that I could leave any time I wanted. The business had turned into a well-oiled machine anyway, and I wasn’t needed most days. Honestly, I’d just gotten in the habit of having something to do every day. Plus, I wanted to spend as much time as possible out of the house and away from the kid I couldn’t bear to look at.
I pulled open my office door and stepped out into the small lobby area where my assistant’s desk was. She was sitting behind it, typing away at whatever work she had to do.
“Take messages for the rest of the day. I’ll be out of the office. Anything of importance, email.”
“Got it,” she replied, not looking away from her screen as I breezed past.
I stepped onto the elevator and rode it down to the main floor of the building. I called my driver as I walked to the exit, and by the time I stepped off the curb, he was pulling up in the blacked-out Lincoln. I didn’t wait for him to park, climb out, and come around to open my door. I didn’t want to waste any time. I opened the door myself and slid into the seat.
“Where to, sir?”
“Find the closest bar,” I told him, pulling up a map of all the nearby hotels. I’d choose based on the bar he took me to.
Twenty minutes later, we were pulling up in front of a jazz club. I made my way inside, instantly feeling a little more relaxed in the dimly lit space. There were a dozen or so smaller tables scattered about. There was a small bar in the back, and the front had the stage. An older gentleman played the sax, while a younger woman played the same tune on a grand piano in the back corner of the stage. The place definitely had the old-time feel, and something about it was soothing, taking the edge off.
I had a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of whiskey. Once the bartender delivered it, I dropped a hundred bucks on the bar and held up my finger, telling him to wait. I brought the glass to my lips, and I tossed it back.
“Another,” I demanded as I set the glass back on the bar.
He nodded and grabbed the bottle, pouring another shot into my glass. I noticed he didn’t set it down after filling my order, and he didn’t walk away. Something told me he wasn’t new to men like me—men who liked to dull the pain in any way they could.
I swallowed the shot and put the glass down, motioning with my index and middle fingers for him to hit me again. He did, and then looked at me with one raised brow, almost like he wassilently asking if this would be it or if I needed more time. I pushed the money toward him.
He put the bottle back behind the bar and took the cash. I watched as he rang me up at the register, then he turned to bring back the change.
“You have a smoke?” I asked.
He patted at his black vest before reaching into the inside, where he pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. He took one from the pack and held it out. I took the cigarette and then the lighter. He tucked the pack away and set down an ashtray.
“Keep the change,” I told him, putting the cigarette between my lips and bringing the flame to the end.
I took in a drag of the cigarette and slid the lighter over to him. He caught it and turned to drop the money into his tip jar.
It had been a long time since I’d indulged in a smoke, but everything about my mood needed it. I’d had a shitty day at work. Really, though, I’d had a shitty four years. I needed to get laid, I needed to get drunk, and I needed to forget. I was slightly nervous about picking up someone to spend the evening with. It had been years since I’d found myself in that position.
The music stopped, and I turned on my barstool to look over my shoulder. I found the couple who had been on stage walking off. The lights were dimmed, and then a man’s voice played across the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Victoria Andrews.”
The few people in the crowd clapped as she made her way to the center stage. The spotlight flipped on, lighting her up so I could take her in.
