by Kate Stewart
“Fuck you,” I hissed, turning to open the door. He slapped his hand against it, stopping me, his body enclosing mine as he whispered in my ear. “What’s wrong, Nina? You want to be my Mrs.?”
“Never,” I said harshly. “I just want out, Devin.”
“You’ll never be out, Nina.”
I braved a look into his dark blue eyes and saw that look again: soft eyes paired with a gentle voice. It looked like concern. This man confused me to no end. I braced myself for his clean scent, the familiarity stirring me. My nipples tightened as he stood, still staring into my eyes. I mustered every last bit of resistance I had.
“What do you want, Devin?” He continued to stare at me, leaving me completely confused because I was sure that I had no effect on him. Had I really been that weak? He leaned in and very gently brushed his lips across mine. It had been so long I’d almost forgotten how gentle he once was with me.
“Please don’t…just don’t,” I begged, my resolve slipping slightly. I forced myself to remember everything that had transpired since the fateful day I walked in on him and his wife.
I can do this.
Devin seemed to catch on. His hand slid down the door as he pushed away and released me.
“Let yourself out, Devin. I have work to do,” I snapped, tearing my eyes away, too exhausted to fight him further.
He gripped my wrist and pulled me sharply to him. “Watch yourself, Nina.”
My lips parted in surprise. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means pay special attention to what you do next,” he said quietly. “You want to be free of me, fine,” he bit out as his fingers dug into my flesh. “But know you are on your own.”
“Get out of my house,” I said with a shaky voice. His grip loosened and that look returned, the look that told me he cared; the deceptive look that led me to this place. I let him see the very last tear I hoped to shed over him, and I felt his body visibly flinch though his face remained impassive.
“Goodbye, Nina.” He let go of me and quickly shut the door behind him. Tears threatened, but I was done. He had come into my life when I was vulnerable and looking for acceptance. At one time, he had treated me better than any man ever had, fucked me harder, and kissed me longer. But I could only swallow so much poison before I got sick. And that’s exactly what Devin was: poison packaged in a gorgeous smile and a mouth-watering cock. Our beginning was false, and our end was inevitable.
I decided against working the rest of the afternoon, tasking my assistant Taylor with a long list of things that had to be addressed. Of all the people in my life, she had the last small part of trust I had to give. She worked tirelessly to keep me a legitimate force to be reckoned with. She had an MBA from Harvard, and instead of running her own empire, she had opted to help me run mine. She was a savior and a saint, showing endless patience with me when it came to the details. I was a college dropout without a clue, and she was a powerhouse, a wealth of knowledge, and I would do anything to keep her.
In the last two years, I’d attempted to remedy my complete lack of knowledge by paying attention to the details. Though I would never fully grasp the majority of it, I was getting there.
“You sound sad,” she noted on the phone. I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.
“I’m fine,” I answered after a short pause.
“Bullshit.”
I laughed at her candor. She was a straight shooter. I guess if I had a single friend left in the world, it would have to be her, though we didn’t spend much time together on a social level. I pictured her now behind her desk, multiple monitors cued up, feeding her greed for information. Her beautiful red hair would be perfectly pinned up and her dress impeccable. Her phone lines were probably lit up with important calls as she ignored them to weigh my mood.
One friend left in the world, and I paid her handsomely.
With a deep sigh, I resigned to get back to business. “I’m fine, Taylor. It was time to take out the trash.”
“Aye, aye, and hear, hear! Finally!” She hated Devin with a passion.
“I moved all the accounts to the Garrison firm. Please follow up and make sure it’s taken care of by day’s end.”
“Already on it,” she said, typing at a sorcerer’s pace.
“I never fully trusted him,” I said under my breath.
“You got out easy. It could have been so much worse,” she said simply. “I’ll email you tonight.”
“Taylor, why do you stick with me?”
She paused since my question was atypical. The first year of our relationship, I had kept it completely professional. The truth was, she had intimidated me a bit at first.
“I’m not ready to gamble yet,” she said after a beat. “Besides, I like to think we are in this together.”
“We are,” I confirmed as my eyes burned with fresh tears. I needed to hear that more than she would ever know. She must have heard the emotion in my voice because shortly after she offered to come see me. Taylor rarely made house calls.
“I’m fine, I swear. Hold it down for me, okay? I’ll be back to it soon. I want to go over the list of properties.”
“Oh, have something in mind?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Not yet, but I’m thinking about it.”
“Talk soon. Proud of you, boss,” she clipped out before hanging up.
I quickly called my lawyer, and within an hour I received confirmation from Taylor that Devin had indeed complied with my demands. I would spend the next few weeks with my new firm, pouring over my holdings and real estate investments. I wanted to keep things simple, and although Devin used my money wisely, he had diversified me too broadly.
A minute later I got an email. It was a list of the properties Devin’s investment firm had purchased with my permission. I looked at the list briefly, deciding to get back to it later. My heart wasn’t in it today.
I wanted to be hands on. I had no desire to waste my days away at the spa or fake my way through luncheons with false smiles with friends I didn’t have.
Once I was uncovered as Devin’s whore, I was kicked out of every circle I had so desperately weaseled my way into the last four years. Now free of Devin, I had nothing. I wasn’t sure exactly where to go from here, but anything was better than the life I was living.
This wasn’t living. I was surviving.
Making my way upstairs to shower and change, I felt my heart constrict once or twice but refused to humor it. Once dressed in designer, loose fitting slacks and a tight fitting, bust-enhancing blouse, I reached for some pumps. As I was artfully applying my makeup, I was suddenly disgusted with the stranger reflected in the mirror. I went back into the closet, opting for jeans and a t-shirt.
Watch yourself? What the hell did he mean by that?
I brushed my long, dark brown hair and scrubbed my freshly painted face off. I settled for a light dusting of bronzer on my imitation tan, some lip gloss, and a layer of mascara to accentuate my gray-blue eyes.
So this is thirty-one.
Reaching for my favorite pair of Chucks, I picked them up then slid them on. Deciding to drive myself, I relieved Carson for the day. I needed to disappear. I needed a drink. I picked my most inconspicuous car—my Mercedes—and let the top down. It was one of those seventy-degree weather days, not a cloud in the sky. They weren’t a rarity in Charleston, but winter had lingered a bit too long. I reveled in the feel of the sun on my face as I drove over the two-mile Ravenel Bridge, observing the beautiful Charleston harbor with Sia singing in the background.
I drove out to Folly Beach to get some much-needed space from my usual scenery. The circle I had just alienated myself from wouldn’t be caught dead here. Smiling to myself, I made my way down the busy Folly Road, delighting in the burst of new tourists who were bustling about, taking note of a few changes and recently opened storefronts. Breathing in deep, I caught a whiff of air from the vendor serving fresh boiled peanuts next to me. Folly was to me the
essence of a little surfer town, with old school tourist shops at every corner. Local bars buzzed with live music as I drove past. The smells were heavenly wafting through the air. The strip seemed like a small carnival of color and texture.
This was home.
Pulling into the parking lot next to the Tides hotel, I quickly made my way toward the strip. I walked a few minutes, noting the amount of bodies I had to dodge. Charleston was growing, no longer the hidden gem of my childhood. I stood and watched a young street performer tear up the saxophone like he had been playing for well beyond his years and clapped wholeheartedly when he was finished. I leaned in and gave him a large tip, refusing to put it in clear sight. He took the money and shoved it in his pocket with a smile, not realizing the size of it. I winked knowing that later he would get a decent surprise out of it.
I walked into The Mystic bar and quickly took a stool. Having never been there, I noted the cool atmosphere. There was a small stage in the corner with room enough for a small crowd on the dance floor. The bar top itself was shaped oddly and took up the entirety of the rest of the space. It was the longest bar counter I had ever seen, starting at the entrance and leading in a series of waves out to the dance floor with stools on either side. The bartender smiled at me as I looked around. Somehow it worked. He took my order, and I continued to look around as I waited for my drink.
“Wow,” I said as he handed me my Blue Moon with an orange slice.
“Yeah, it’s different,” he said then chuckled.
“Your place?” I asked as I noticed the color scheme of navy, light gray, purple, white, and lime green. Four floor to ceiling lava lamps cast dancing shadows around the bar, creating a glow that surrounded the space. Plants were strewn everywhere. It looked like I had wandered into a pothead’s paradise. All that was missing was the incense.
“No, not mine,” he answered. I looked up at him, and he was grinning at me. He tapped his fingers on the bar and quickly offered up, “Dave, holler if you need me.”
With a smile, I thanked him before giving him a twenty, waving my hand when he offered change. He was young, maybe early twenties, with blond hair and blue eyes. I was sure when he wanted to hold a woman’s attention he was more than capable. The bar was practically empty, but it was only 3 P.M. on a Tuesday. The majority of the patrons seemed to be on vacation by the way they were talking. I tuned them out to listen to the music playing. I sighed and took a long sip of my ice-cold beer. Delicious.
No matter how familiar I was with this city, there was always something new popping up. I settled in at three beers and noted the music being played was an amazing mix of old school and new stuff that I enjoyed.
When my next beer was served, I asked Dave to turn up the music.
“What station is this?”
“It’s the owner’s mix,” he said. When he registered my appreciation, he agreed. “I know, he’s got incredible taste and has playlists for days. It never gets old.”
I smiled and accepted my beer before passing him another twenty. He raised his brows at me quickly. “You sure? I mean, I appreciate it, but you’ve tipped me enough to drink for days.”
Ah, a good guy too. I’d have to tip him more.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the last day of my vacation,” I lied. “I didn’t spend nearly as much as I’d saved.”
“Cool, thank you, really.” He seemed relieved. It’s amazing what money could do.
“Where are you from?” A voice sounded behind me. Shit. I really didn’t want to have to deal with this. I decided to handle it quickly as the stranger slipped into the chair next to me to await my reply.
“I’m really not in the mood for company,” I countered as I took him in. He was decent looking, a good build with dark brown hair and a big smile, but I immediately brushed him off. “I’m sorry to seem so curt, but I just came to relax.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said quickly.
“It’s my preference,” I assured him, my tone growing impatient. He nodded, still holding his smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes before wandering off. Four beers quickly turned into six as I watched the bar grow darker around me, all the while entranced by the lava forming and shifting in the large lamps. Realizing I was buzzed, I ordered a few things off their limited menu to try to sober up in lieu of calling Carson for my car. For some reason, I wanted to keep up my rouse to my new bartender friend, Dave, and didn’t want to break the illusion by being picked up in my town car. I was someone else today. No longer Nina Scott, successful entrepreneur. I was just Nina.
As the night continued on, the bar grew more crowded, and I found it harder to avoid unwanted conversation. Making my way to a small table in the corner next to the stage, I watched a trio of men in my age range set up their instruments. The stage was dark as they tested their sound system. When I realized I was sitting next to a speaker, I moved to gather my food as the first strum of a guitar rang through it. I looked up to see the stage light and knew my gasp was audible when I saw the man in front of the microphone. He was nothing short of drop dead gorgeous. I cleared my throat, trying to mask the fact I was choking on the carrot covered in hummus I had just taken a bite of.
“Check one…two.”
He nodded at the band, and they started playing at his cue. Reaching for the fresh beer Dave had just dropped off, I quickly downed it as I tried to pull myself together. I looked through my glass at the man mere feet from me as he started to play.
Jesus…Jesus! Sweet Jesus, he was beautiful! His body was toned, and his white t-shirt and cargo shorts clung to him like they worshiped him, a pair of well-worn Chucks completing his outfit. His slightly long, blond hair was styled in a spiky mess. I let my eyes drift over his perfectly sculpted, tan calves up to his muscular arms gripping his guitar. A leather cuff decorated one wrist and what looked to be a half sleeve tattoo adorned the other, partially hidden by the arm of his t-shirt. My eyes drifted up further to his neck, and I could see the strain as he began to sing.
That voice. I knew it. I sat frozen in complete and utter shock as he began to belt out an old Pretender’s song that I loved.
God, help me.
Closing my eyes, I downed the rest of my beer as Dave approached with another round.
“A shot, anything, something…” I trailed off as the voice and amber eyes focused on my table. “Strong, Dave,” I said as I averted my eyes. Dave chuckled as he noticed me visibly crumble.
Who knew I was a groupie?
“Dave.” I stopped him as he started to walk off. “Who is that?”
“That’s Aiden, the owner,” he said, nodding in his direction.
“Don’t look at him!” I said, quickly forgetting myself. The bar was still slightly empty, and I couldn’t stop staring at the stage. I felt my cheeks flame.
For fuck’s sake, Nina!
Dave took in my expression. “He plays on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Oh, um, cool,” I tried to add with an air of nonchalance, even though it was anything but. Every word sung put me in a trance as I watched his skillful fingers pluck at the strings. After several minutes, I braved another look at his face. Luckily, he was roaming the bar with his eyes before closing them as he sang. When he reopened them, they met mine, and I grabbed my beer again, needing a distraction.
So much for sobering up.
He gazed down at me with eyes the color of freshly kindled flames. I’d never seen eyes of that color and was immediately transfixed by the fire smoldering within them. His face was perfect, cut from a cloth the likes of which I had never seen. The small amount of stubble on his jaw suited his style. He smiled at me then, causing my beer to slip out of my hands before landing loudly on the table. I corrected it quickly, managing to keep it from spilling. He smirked then looked away, working the filling bar with ease. He seemed completely comfortable in his skin, making me wonder what that must feel like. I took in his long lashes as he again closed his eyes, harmonizing effortlessly over the chords.
Dave delivered my shot, and I downed it without hesitation before handing him a stack of twenties.
“Look, I really can’t keep taking these insane tips,” he said, attempting to push the cash back into my hand. I nodded absently, taking the money back without argument. I had no time to talk. I was busy…lusting after a guy singing at a bar.
What the hell, woman?
Quickly coming to my senses, I turned to Dave who seemed confused by my behavior.
“I was a bartender a long time ago. This is a good day for you. Take it,” I said sternly, dismissing him as I grabbed my phone to alert Carson that I would, in fact, need him. I set my phone down, ignoring the two missed calls from my mother. I was in no mood to listen to her rants, choosing instead to do the responsible thing and finish my plate as the band started a new song: Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box.”
Aiden…I wanted him.
When he finished the song, he thanked Dave, who handed him a beer. I watched the entire performance, mesmerized as he wrapped his full lips around countless melodies I adored. His set was a mix much like the music played in the bar, a mingling of everything old and new with some songs I assumed were his. I loved every single thing that was played. The music seemed to drag people into the bar, but when the female patrons noticed the man singing, their reactions were always the same: a dropped mouth and increased proximity to the stage. I chuckled at my stupidity. This man probably got ass on the regular from any woman of his choosing. The whole situation seemed ridiculous and sobering.
Yeah, Nina, you’ve officially hit bottom.
I got up suddenly, refusing to entertain my stupidity any longer, and walked over to the bar, handing Dave one last tip. He shook his head in exasperation while thanking me profusely. At least one of us would go home smiling.
As I walked out of the bar, I felt foolish, my heart pounding and my face heated from the alcohol. I’d asked Carson to pick me up in his personal car to keep heads from turning and was about to slip in when I heard that lethal voice.
