Page 44 of The Comedown

Julian eyes me for a beat, then softly, he says, “I got it for you.”

“What?”

“The car. I thought you’d like it.”

I scoff, dropping my stare to the dark asphalt. “Because I’m easily impressed by expensive items.” What a load of horseshit.

“It wasn’t about the price tag. I thought… Fuck.”

Our eyes meet just as he’s lifting a hand to his mouth, and he freezes, tucking it into a pocket instead.

“You like races, don’t you? You never miss the one in Indy.”

“They invite me to sing the National Anthem,” I say slowly, watching him.

He clears his throat. “Not every time.”

I crack a small smile, shaking my head. “No, not every time. You’re right, whether I’m singing there or not, I never miss a race. If I get in early enough, they even let me do a couple laps around the empty track.” And I love it. I more than love it. It’s like no other feeling in the world driving that fast, that unrestrained. Being that unrestrained.

He gestures at the car, repeating, “I got it for you.”

Julian pays attention. More than he lets on.

Fixing my shirt so one shoulder shows, I say, “Fine, I’ll go in, but you owe me a lap dance.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Not from you.” I snort, although I wouldn’t mind watching him try. “From one of the male dancers inside.”

A laugh smothered by a cough has me side-eyeing Julian as we approach the door.

“This one has both men and women performers, right?”

His answer is a shit-eating grin.

Julian hands a large stack of cash to the security guard just inside, and I wait until we’re alone to voice my thoughts, telling him, “I seriously hate you.” The only dancers onstage are all female. What could he possibly want to show me here?

“Still want that lap dance, Poohbear?”

Without looking away from him, I say, “Absolutely.” I’ve been with women before. Not necessarily one-on-one, but I wouldn’t be opposed to it.

Julian chuckles, guiding me over to a table in the back corner. At first it appears empty, but as we get closer, I make out his drummer along with a bunch of other men.

Julian gives introductions, saying, “Boys, you know Collette,” while accepting a glass of amber liquid. As he’s busy tossing it back, I sneak my hand into his pocket, stealing the key back.

As much as I enjoyed driving on Julian’s lap, it was distracting. Julian himself is incredibly distracting.

I tuck the key away, then take a seat next to the drummer that I only got the chance to speak with in passing.

“What’s your poison?” Axel asks me, indicating to the bottles of alcohol littering the table.

I answer honestly, saying, “Damaged men.”

“It’s like that, huh?” He laughs.

I eye Julian watching me over his glass. “Unfortunately.”

“Lucky for you, that’s on tap tonight,” Axel jokes.