“How’s Collin?” I ask, and Aiden rubs his face.
“Not good. He dropped a serious fucking bomb on me today. I think he knows it’s the end.”
“What did he say?”
Aiden downs the rest of his drink before looking at me. “That he has a twenty-five-year-old daughter from an affair and to make sure that she’s a part of the last will and testament.”
“Collin?” I ask, shocked.
The man is about as wholesome as you can imagine. The idea of him having a twenty-five-year-old kid somewhere out there that he didn’t take care of is completely out of character.
“Fucking tell me about it. So on top of managing everyone at work, preparing for the inevitable when it comes to Collin, now I have this shit to deal with.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me. Pretty sure he’s telling Abigail and Zach about it tonight.”
I wince over the thought of him telling his wife of over thirty years and his son this big of a secret while he’s on his deathbed.
Aiden rubs his hand across his face and looks back at me.
“Everything good with you?”
“Yeah, just working.”
“I’m going to head out. Thanks for getting me out for at least a little while though, I needed it.”
“If you need anything else, just let me know, man.”
He smacks my back as he leaves, walking out of Avalon. I pick up my drink and head to the back rooms.
Avalon is huge, but the main space when you leave the bar is mainly for exhibitionism and meeting new people. It’s a luxury club, everything decorated in rich golds and luxe matte black. It’s a weekday, so it isn’t as crowded as I take a seat by myself.
Couples have been more popular at the club than singles lately, and shit has been getting messy.
Too messy for my liking.
I like my life in a predictable, neat box.
When I come to Avalon, I want things cut and dry. I’m only here to fuck. Nothing more, nothing less.
It’s how I like my life, the more I can control, the more information I know the less I have to worry about things going to shit. Routines, organization, and structure make me feel in control.
Yet…
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath as Colleen approaches me.
It’s not that anything is wrong with the woman. She’s pretty, smart, no major personality disorders that I can discern, but she is clingy.
I don’t do clingy.
Nothing makes my dick limper than over eagerness, I’m well aware it’s a character flaw. Or maybe I’m just a prick.
But Colleen is one of the few single women here, so we’ve played on more than one occasion. I can tell she wants more. She tried to kiss me last time, even though that’s one of my hard limits.
“Lincoln, there you are. It’s been awhile,” she says, her voice pleasant and soft.
I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, she’s open, attractive, but I find myself completely disinterested at this moment.
