Even though I consider Kelsie a friend, it’s strictly professional. To the point where I don’t even have her phone number, or vice versa. I talk to her at work and she knows enough about my past to not ask anymore. She knows I lost everyone I ever cared for. I’m sure she assumes that’s why I won’t let her in, and I really don’t care. When I need someone to talk to, she’s around and when I don’t, I never worry about anyone unexpectedly knocking on my door.
“What are you gonna do tonight to celebrate?” she asks.
“Probably gonna go home and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” That’s not really my plan, though. There’s a new club in town and I want to check it out, I just don’t want any company. Going back to Kelsie, she’s my work friend and nothing more, I don’t need her judging eyes staring at me while I get shit faced and find a guy to take home.
That’s how it’s been since I left. I don’t do relationships of any kind … well, except Kelsie, and she’s the only exception to the rule. And there’s barely a relationship to speak of.
When I woke up the next morning, after Elaine passed and having read Garrett’s letter, I knew exactly what I had to do. There was nothing left for me in Corbin. Nobody left for me. I didn’t tell anyone goodbye, I didn’t have a party … I just left. A part of me feels terrible for not giving Garrett any closure, but he made his bed when he decided that the Army was more important than being there for someone he talked about marrying one day. Also, with all the guilt I feel for treating his mom so badly and my pride that I’m not willing to part with, he’d never choose me over her … not that I’d ever let him.
I’ve not had a boyfriend since him. I’ve had a few guys I’ve hooked up with on a regular basis until they wanted to take it further. That’s when they got cut from the lineup and I moved onto the next. If I don’t let anyone inside my heart, keeping it surrounded by a moat full of monsters, nobody has to get hurt. Most importantly, I’ll never get hurt again. Lesson learned. Check mark next to that one. There will be no double check marks.
“Well, you’re boring. I knew I should have thrown you a party here tonight. I shoulda listened to my gut. You go ahead and take off for the night. Consider it my present to you.”
“Awesome. I’ll catch ya on the flip side,” I holler over my shoulder, not wasting any time stripping out of my apron and waltzing out the door. Now I actually have a little time to go home and try to look presentable.
An hour and a half later, I’m as cute as I’m going to get. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I’m satisfied with what I see. My dark brown hair that hangs to the middle of my back is thrown in a high, sleek pony, my lips painted a deep red and there’s enough mascara on my lashes that my eyes look more hazel than the dark brown they actually are. A little trick I picked up from Kelsie the last time I bitched about my shit colored eyes.
Throwing a black slip dress on over my black matching bra and panty set, I squeeze my feet into a pair of heels I know will be painful in a few hours, but I’ll take it if it means I’ll look sexy. Well, at least feel sexy again. Along with ditching Corbin four years ago, I also left behind my hippy clothing, choosing to fit in rather than stand out. Call it a defense mechanism if you want, but it works. People never notice you if you look like everyone else.
On the cab ride to the club, my mind starts drifting back to the last good birthday I had. I was with Garrett. Ugh, I need to stop thinking about him, but he’s really been on my heart lately. I don’t want to see him, but I hope everything worked out well for him and he got the life he dreamed of.
Glancing down at my watch and checking the time, it’s just after midnight, which will give me a good two hours to get as drunk as I can and find a decent looking guy. My newest tattoo catches my eye and I smile, knowing what it truly means.
I tried seeing a shrink when I first got here, you know, to help me cope with everything. He ended up pissing me off more than helping. It was then that I realized that I was meant to be alone. I was okay being by myself. Sure, it got lonely sometimes, but I didn’t have to worry about anyone disappointing me—or me disappointing anyone else.
It reminded me of a story I heard when I was younger. Kill me now, because I can’t remember what it is for the life of me, but the meaning behind it was what I remembered most. It was about a raven. A bird that’s content on being alone, prefers it actually. Most people think the raven relates to a bad omen, but that’s not the case. She gets by easier knowing the only one she needs in her corner is herself.
It took me a few years to muster up the courage to actually get it, but I’m beyond happy with the outcome. Going big, I decided on getting a half sleeve, with the main object—the one that stands out—a beautiful, black raven. The fine details surrounding it are the other stories of my life … love, loss and rebirth … but it’s the raven that tells the story of who I am today and who I’ll continue to be.
Content. Not happy, but not sad. I’m just … me.
Stepping out of the cab, the bass vibrates outside the doors. Judging by all the cars in the lot across the street, it’s going to be packed, as it should be on opening night. We don’t have too many clubs in this area, so having one so close to home is a breath of fresh air.
When the bouncer opens the main door for me, the music pours out, drowning out the bass. Thanking everything holy that they’re not playing country music, I bob my head and swing my hips to Dark Horse by Katy Perry as I head for the large bar in the middle of the room.
Waiting for fifteen minutes before the bartender makes her way to me, I order three shots of whiskey and two beers. I’ve worked in a bar long enough to know that you should order extra when it’s this packed because it might be a good half an hour before you get service again.
After slamming the three shots quickly, the warm, fuzzy feeling of my buzz swarms over me, making me feel relaxed and ready for a good time. This is how I do it and it always works. Do a bunch of shots to get the immediate buzz that will turn into inebriation, and then nurse a beer or two through the night.
Works every time.
Staying at the bar, I start on my first beer, drinking it quicker than I usually would. I don’t want the other to be piss warm by the time I get to it. This also gives me time to scope out the potential suitors for the evening.
The group of long haired, thirty somethings near the lounge area are scratched off my list. If your hair is nearly as long as mine, we have nothing to talk about … ever. The frat boys standing off to the side of the bar are also not in the running. I’m not a big fan of being slipped a roofie and taken back to a frat house.
There’s a group of guys in the VIP section that catch my attention. It looks like a bachelor party of sorts and they’re all good looking for the most part. These guys came out tonight looking for fun and our idea of a good time couldn’t be any more similar. They’re not going to want my number any more than I’m going to want to give it to them.
Taking the last swig from my bottle, I place the empty on the bar, and with a fresh beer in my hand, I make my way over to the VIP section.
The guy I approach, he’s kind of cute. Short, shaggy hair with a little bit of scruff. When I place my hand on his bicep, the muscles carefully hidden underneath, I silently sigh. I’m a sucker for any man with muscles. He can be just okay looking, but if he’s ripped, he can get it.
“Hey. What are y’all doing tonight?” I drawl, adding a little extra “country” into my words.
“Having some drinks. You wanna join, pretty lady?” he responds, smiling with a row of nearly perfect teeth. No signs of gum disease or leftover food. Win.
“I’ve had quite a bit already. My girlfriend was supposed to meet me when she got off work, but she’s not here. You mind if I hang with you guys for a bit? Y’all look harmless,” I lie, but I’m playing to every man’s hero complex. Every member of the male species, no matter how young or old, has some kind of hang-up on being some poor damsel’s guardian angel. It’s not my fault I know th
is, but it is that I use it to my advantage.
He stretches his hand out for mine and I notice a tan line from where a wedding ring should be. I suspiciously eye him, glancing between his finger and his face, waiting for some kind of explanation.
“We just got divorced. My buddies brought me out tonight to get over it. If you don’t wanna stay, I understand.” And there it is. Just like he wants to save me, my womanly instincts kick in and all I can think of doing is saving him, being the girl to help him get over a busted marriage.
Whoa. Get it together, Rian. You’re here for some dick, not a joint bank account and a white picket fence. I mentally slap myself, shake it off and smile at him, taking his hand and sitting at one of the few tables in the VIP area.
“It’s really nice up here.” It truly is. Most exclusive areas around town aren’t this plush—large oversized sofas, giant mirrors, a few tables and chairs and a pretty red velvet rope separating this section from the general public. It sure beats hanging out at the bar with the men who try to buy me a well vodka and cranberry. Apparently, that’s what all females drink. God forbid a woman enjoy a shot of whiskey or bourbon every once in a while.
“What’s your name, pretty lady? I don’t mind calling you that, but it would be nice to use the name your momma gave you.” The thought of my mother makes my heart flutter and my throat tighten. It’s been a while since I’ve thought of her and this isn’t a time to take a walk down memory lane.
I’m not sure that I want to give him my real name. It’s personal and there’s nothing personal about what’s going to happen tonight if all the stars align. Taking a quick peek around the room, my gaze settles on my arm and my lips turn upward. “Raven. My name’s Raven.”
“Well, that answers my next question.” He points to my tattoo, obviously wanting to know about the meaning. Most women have very feminine things inked on their body with lots of color and pretty designs. Mine isn’t like that, though. Sharp, crisp lines and the majority of the collage is black and white with a little splash of red here and there. Anti-feminine.
An unknown amount of time passes by with more meaningless conversation. I glance over the table to check his watch and realize we only have about fifteen more minutes until the club closes. At that moment, the bartender announces last call. Wondering if I should risk it with another shot or play it cool with the great buzz I’m currently experiencing, I throw caution to the wind and order one more for the road.
Slamming it back and swallowing quickly, letting the burn extend all the way to my stomach, I go back to find the guy I was talking to. I probably should know his name, but it’s really a non-factor. I’m not going to need it later, so why bother taking up precious memory?
“Hey, I’m gonna get outta here. You wanna come back to my place?” I ask, leaning down to whisper in his ear. His eyes never travel past my cleavage that’s on display and he nods his head.
I turn to walk to the entrance, knowing damn well he’s right behind me … they always follow like lovesick puppies. I’ll never understand how a man can be pussy whipped without ever actually getting it. Oh well, this isn’t an experiment into the male mind.
As we pass by coat check, his large hand spans the width of my lower back, guiding me out the door. Once outside into the crisp night air, he wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. Approaching his car—a sleek, white convertible—it’s not the logo on the grill denoting how much this car actually costs that catches my attention. The pissed off looking woman standing with her arms crossed, shooting daggers at me does.
Already knowing where this is going, I withdraw from his embrace, mimicking the other woman’s pose.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, obviously unaware of what’s about to go down.
I point my finger in the direction of what I assume to be his wife and he turns white.
“Shit,” he mutters.
Shit is most certainly right. He’s in some and I might just stick around to watch this all unfold. Nothing better than watching drama that isn’t your own.
Chapter 14
“Baby, let me explain.” Oh boy, here comes the pleading. He wasn’t about to come home with me and fuck my brains out. Nope, there was some kind of misunderstanding. I almost wish I had some popcorn.
“Explain what? You’re a cheating bastard? I get the image real fucking clear, Jerry.” I’m really happy I didn’t know his name before; it might have been a deal breaker.
“I didn’t do anything. I was just going to give this girl a ride home. Her friend never showed up and she was stranded.” Coughing back laughter, I duck my head into my neck so I don’t cause more of a scene. Any normal woman would just leave and forget this ever happened. I just can’t, though; it’s hilarious.
“Oh, you usually have your arms all wrapped around a whore when you’re gonna drive her home? I totally forgot that was appropriate etiquette.”
Whore? She just called me a whore? Not cool, cookie. Not cool.
“Look at her shoes; she was stumbling all over the place. The girl obviously can’t handle her liquor.” Okay, all this Rian bashing is just about over. Rolling my eyes, I turn to walk away when his wife summons me.
“Whore. You don’t have anything to say for yourself? Taking advantage of a married man.” When the hell did this become my fault? Spinning on my heel, I turn to face her and casually walk to the car, bypassing Jerry who’s quietly begging me not to.
“Listen, cookie. I don’t know you and you sure as shit don’t know me. I didn’t take advantage of anyone, well not yet at least. Your husband, if you can call him that, told me he was divorced. I was gonna take him back to my place and rock his world, but now that you’re here, how about you do that. Y’all got some shit to work out, apparently.”
Before I can flip around to leave and find the bouncer to hail me a cab, she starts in again. “You’re a disgusting, home-wrecking whore.”
My first reaction is to slap her across the face. Hey, I gave her a warning. She should probably be mad at her husband, not the girl that he was gonna fuck. “That’s the last time you’ll call me a whore. Slut, yeah, sure. Whore, nope. I wish I could get paid to fuck, but that goes against all my morals … well, the morals I have left. I didn’t wreck any homes. I specifically asked your douche husband if he was married and he told me no. He. Told. Me. No. You’re gonna wanna redirect your anger because I’m not in any kinda mood for you.”
When I think I got my point across, the bat shit crazy bitch slaps me back. Screaming something about the kids and how could he and she hopes he’ll be happy with me. Tasting the slight tint of copper in my mouth, I shake my head, trying to talk myself out of fucking her up, but my instinct wins over my head.
Rearing back, I punch her in the cheek. Watching her cup her jaw and turn to the side with her dirty blonde hair falling in front of her face, I almost feel bad, but the bitch wants a fight. She comes at me, swinging away, but none actually make contact. Jerry tries to step in to protect his wife, but he gets an elbow to the nose. Stumbling backward, he starts hollering for help of any kind.
While me and the wife continue to go at it, the bouncer comes up behind me, dragging me away. Cookie swings once more, connecting with the side of my head. Stars start to swarm behind my lids and out of instinct I kick my feet out, knowing the bouncer has me and won’t let go. My foot strikes her just under her chin, sending her flying back into the car, hopefully denting the hood.
From the corner of my eye, I see red and blue flashing in the reflection of the windows of the business across the street. Mother fucker, if I go to jail, I’m going to be so pissed.
Two cops exit their squad car, one coming to me and the other to her. Taking statements and running our names, it is in fact me that’s being handcuffed. The short, fat one squealed something about me having a history of assault. They probably didn’t look further, seeing that all charges were dropped and it was ruled self defense.
The tall, fat one, yep both fat ass
es, walks me to the back of the cop car and angles my head inside. Before he shuts the door, I feel it one hundred percent necessary to say exactly what I’m feeling, since that crazy cunt’s getting off scott free.
“Hey, cookie. Before I go to jail for the night, I just wanted to apologize.” She looks in my direction, almost sympathetic. “Sorry for almost sucking your husband’s dick.” Smiling, both cops get in the car and start driving toward the station. I believe that they’re softly chuckling on the other side of the cage, but I can’t be sure. I do hope that it’s my amazing wit and charm that’s giving them some entertainment for the night.
Now, I’ll just have to find a way to get out tonight. Panic starts to set in. The last time I was in jail my mother was still alive. I protected her and ended up in custody. I need to get out before I freak the hell out and do something else stupid tonight.
****
“You get one phone call, girl.” I’m regretting being a lone dove. There’s only one phone number I know off the top of my head and I really don’t want to use it. It’s been years since I’ve heard her voice and the thought of reaching out, especially to come get me from jail, makes my stomach convulse. Leaning over the steel toilet in the holding cell, all the liquor I consumed earlier comes hurling out, burning just as much coming up as it did going down.
“Can you look someone up for me?” I ask, hoping they say yes. Kelsie’ll come to my rescue and it’ll save me from having to embarrass myself any further tonight.
“Nope. I’m not gonna wait here all night, either. If you want to make your call before shift change, you’re gonna wanna do it now. If you wait any longer, you’ll be sitting ‘til morning.” Fucking fantastic.
Wiping my mouth on the hem of my dress, I scurry toward the officer who takes my cuffs off. At the long counter, he puts the phone on top, turning it to face me. I pick up the receiver and start punching in the only numbers I can remember.
One ring … two … three … just when I think the voicemail is going to pick up, a familiar voice answers, sounding cheerful and happy.
Raven Page 10
