I slam my fist on my desk. “This shouldn’t be the first time I’m hearing about this. Two hundred thousand dollars isn’t chump change, and him not paying up makes me look like a fool.”
“I fucked up,” he admits, “but he had the money. I saw it. I think he’s gambling elsewhere.”
“You got reckless and now we’re going to have to handle this shit. If I let him get away with this, other guys will think they can fuck me over. We’ll go over to his place tomorrow and confront him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t get me my fucking money, nor does it stop me from looking like a fucking chump. I don’t give a fuck if it’s the goddamned president. We don’t allow people to bet who can’t pay up. It’s bad for business.”
Logan stands and, without saying another word, walks to the door. As he’s leaving, in walks Carmen. She gives Logan a flirty smile before she closes the door behind her.
She saunters up to me and places herself between my legs and the desk—a woman on a mission. My mind goes to the white dressed angel from earlier. Her innocent eyes and full lips, swollen and pink from our kiss. The way she nervously played with her bottom lip. Holy shit, I need to stop thinking about this woman. Maybe I can fuck her out of my system.
Sighing loudly, I look at Carmen, who is the opposite of Nevaeh in every way, at least on the outside. On the inside, all women are the same. As I rake my gaze down Carmen’s face andbody, I wonder what it was I ever saw in her. Her caked on makeup that I used to think was sexy, now looks overdone in comparison to Nevaeh’s natural beauty. The tits I loved to fuck aren’t appealing in the slightest. Nevaeh’s aren’t even half the size of Carmen’s, but I bet hers are perky and would fit perfectly in my palms. Carmen’s short skirt that usually turns me on now looks cheap, like she’s trying too hard. Holy fuck, has this woman broken me?
Before I can think twice, I push my chair back and stand. “It’s not happening, Carmen. I have somewhere I need to be.”
I rush her to the door and down the hall, my eyes searching the club, looking for that sexy little angel. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I need to find her. I go back to where we were just a short time ago, but she’s gone. I stalk toward the dance floor, scanning the area, but I don’t see her. And for the first time in my life, I chase after a woman who, without even meaning to, has brought me to my goddamn knees.
The club closes at four in the morning, and I’m there at the door when the last person walks out.
“You okay, boss?” Kenny, the bouncer who mans the main entrance, asks as I stare out the door. It’s still dark outside, the sun not due to come up for another couple hours.
“Yeah, I was hoping to catch someone before she left.” I walk back to my office and think about how one interaction with Nevaeh affected me so deeply. I should feel relieved I couldn’t find her. What would I even do with a woman like her? According to her ex, she’s a fucking virgin. Relief: that’s the emotion I should feel, but then why is it that all I feel is regret?
THREE
NEVAEH
Go to a club
Get drunk
Kiss a stranger
Sitting on the edge of my bed, freshly showered and in my pajamas—I can finally feel my feet again now that I’m out of those crazy heels—I strike through three more items on my list, excited that in one night I experienced not one, not two, but three things. I glance at the list and smile. It’s a list of things I want to do and experience before I die, most of which my mom would have a heart attack and die over if she saw. I created it during a low day, hoping to give me something to look forward to. There are still so many items left on the list, I can’t imagine actually completing it, but I’m determined. Now more than ever.
Some of the items include:
Get married
Get a tattoo
Learn to play cards
Make love somewhere crazy (after I'm married)
The list goes on and on. I laugh at some of the items I wrote years ago likeGo skydiving.I've had this list for so long, the paper it’s written on is crumpled and worn, but I keep it to remind myself of everything I’ve yet to experience in this life. If I have it my way, I will complete every single item.
Looking at the items I crossed out, my mind goes back to that gorgeous man and the way he consumed me. The reason for kissing him became irrelevant when he picked me up and placed me on top of the bar. I’ve never been kissed like that before, and it took everything in me to pull away from him when all I wanted to do was keep kissing him. How could a man I don’t even know give me butterflies Gerald couldn’t give me in the two years we were together?
He’s a stranger, for crying out loud. But a devastatingly good-looking stranger…
His handsomeness, however, was overshadowed by a coldness that clung to him. I felt a sense of danger seeping from him, but at the same time still felt safe. He’s the kind of man you stare at from a distance, hoping you won’t get caught, but never dare to approach. Yet there I was, in his arms, being devoured by him. It’s been over an hour since his lips were on mine, but I swear my body is still trying to recover from that mind-altering kiss.
Just as I’m folding my paper back up and placing it into my underwear drawer, Blaire bursts into my bedroom in her pajamaswith two glasses of chocolate milk. We always have some on hand for the moments that require it. Whether it’s to celebrate our birthday or the two of us getting hired, or simply to cheer each other up after having a bad day—the chocolate milk symbolizes our friendship.
Blaire sits on my bed after handing me my glass—her short pajama bottoms and tank making my long-sleeved flannel pajamas look like something a nun would wear. My mom bought me these pajamas for Christmas, and while they’re definitely ugly, they’re super comfy. Sometimes I wonder how Blaire and I have remained friends all these years. Why she would want to deal with my mom and all my hang-ups. But instead of questioning it, I thank God for her because I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I guess it’s true what they say, opposites attract. Although, are we really opposites when most of the time I’m wishing my life could be more like hers and less like my own?
