by Soraya Naomi
“Henry, let him go.” I claw at his hand, yet he doesn’t budge. “Henry!” As he looks to the side, he notices the people around us witnessing the scene, so Henry releases him with a shove and Keano stumbles forward, rubbing out his wrist.
“He wasn’t trying to get into my pants,” I defend lamely. “You’re wrong.”
Keano’s scowl remains on Henry, who appears to be ready to pounce on him, the lines in Henry’s face uncompromising.
“Am I?! Why the hell were you straddling him? In your underwear?!” he gestures at Henry and then at me irately.
“Because she likes it, motherfucker,” Henry growls, baiting Keano, who lunges at him before Henry catches him under the chin with an uppercut, causing Keano to stagger backward as Henry snarls, “She’s not yours.”
I jump between them and hold out my hands. “Oh, my god. Stop it!”
They pay me no heed while Keano loosens his jaw, so I slam both their chests to make them look at me. “Keano. Calm down. Let me dress and we can talk, okay?” Before he can confirm, I pull Henry’s arm to spin him around and inch him to the side with me.
Reaching down for my jeans, I shake them out before pushing my legs into them. As I stoop low again to get my tank top, I say, “I’m sorry. I’ll handle him. But...can we talk later?” I want to stay with Henry but need to end it with Keano first.
He unclenches his fist and lets out a deep sigh while I brush my wet curls back with my fingers. I want to know where we stand. What’s been happening the last few days?
Henry picks up his clothes, muttering in an annoyed tone, “About what, Mary?”
This isn’t the reply I was expecting. Bemused, I freeze for a second while pulling my top over my head and then yanking it down to find his eyes narrowing at a point behind me.
“About us...” I answer, whirling my head around and pursing my lips as the woman in the red bikini approaches us.
“Mary, you’re my friend. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”
“What do we have? Because I’m in limbo here.” The question hangs in the air as silence stretches around us, and I become more and more furious at his unpredictable behavior toward me.
When he does ultimately answer, it’s the opposite of what I want to hear and cuts close to the bone.
“A friendship.” His chivalrous response destroys me, and my heart sinks to my feet.
While I was reaching a completely different conclusion, he just shot down wherever this was going.
“Then stop flirting with me.” My voice breaks, although I try to sound steady as he’s fixated on the other woman.
This is who he is, a man distracted by feminine beauty. A man who doesn’t do relationships and seems to be fine with the current status of his life.
Disappointed and hurt, I grab my sandals and loosen Strawberry’s tether before whisper-shouting to Henry, “You know what you fucking do to me.”
“And you fucking play along,” he throws back and holds up his palm, deeming this conversation over.
At this point, all I can do is accept the way he pulled me close and is now pushing me away. On the other hand, I don’t need to see Henry with other women anymore, so while he’s looking at red bikini woman, I shoulder past him.
He walks ahead to meet her and she smacks a kiss on his cheek while watching me, spiking my jealousy into territory unknown.
Unluckily, that’s when Keano demands my attention. “Mary!”
I grumble, “Why do you bark at Henry? I hate it when you do that.”
His body tenses up. “That’s all you have to say? He hit me! What were you doing being so close with him?”
“He’s my friend and you misread a situation,” I lie but then add, “I-I don’t know anymore...This isn’t working, Keano.”
He ignores my statement. “No, I’m sorry. Maybe I did misread it.”
Utterly shocked, I reveal the truth, “You didn’t—”
“Let’s just forget it.” He inches closer and I edge backward, puzzled.
“What? No—”
He dips his head to kiss me, but I turn my cheek to him and am suddenly fascinated by Henry’s powerful back, straining with muscles. The woman traces a path up his arm, outlining the cross tattoo before moving up to his neck until he shivers, and I’m green with envy.
“Just leave me alone,” I insist to Keano, and in a perplexed state of mind, I turn away from both men with sadness marring my soul.
Maybe I’ve been misinterpreting Henry, because apparently, his flirting means nothing. Although it’s a little late for me to have that realization now when I’ve already fallen for him.
CHAPTER 5
Mary
I’ve been slacking off on working toward my bachelor’s degree in art history, so on Friday, I’m sitting with several students at a round table in the School of the Arts Institute’s library where I’m trying to get caught up. With the murmurs of their conversations around me, I reread the last passage of my Renaissance art paper on my tablet and email it to my professor just before noon, right at the deadline.
Hearing my phone vibrate, I search for it in my plaid leather shoulder bag that’s lying on the table, hoping that a certain man is finally contacting me after five days of no communication, but I let out a disappointed sigh when I read Keano’s message.
Keano: I want to meet and talk to you.
Um, hello to you too. How are you?
I toss my phone back into my bag, missing Henry. I’m starting to believe that this attraction was one-sided. However, even if it was, I still miss my friend and wonder if he thinks of me at all? A sense of gloom hovers over my head like a dark cloud, various emotions and questions swirling inside me.
What’s he doing? Who’s he with? Why hasn’t he texted me?
I decide to call him when a shadow moving over my tablet has me looking up into the bright blue eyes of a girl in my class. “Hey, Kate.”
“Hey,” she whispers. “Keano was looking for you earlier.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll call him,” I comment.
“Did you turn in your paper?”
“Yes, just now.”
“Me too,” she replies. “In the nick of time. I’m off to work, but I’ll see you tonight, right?”
“Where?”
“The poker tournament at your brother’s club. My boyfriend, Chris, is playing, so I have to support him.”
I forgot about the tournament, yet this is a great excuse to see Henry. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Then I stand up and stuff my tablet into my bag. “I’ll walk out with you. I’m leaving too.”
***
It’s eight p.m. when I enter Club 7, edging along the black and white tiled dance floor that’s located in the center of the spacious room. The bass booms in my eardrums as the club fills up quickly, but there’s no Henry in sight.
I comb my fingers through my hair, which is flowing in waves down my back over my long-sleeved little black dress. The dozen thin gold bracelets around my wrists tinkle as I approach the bar in my strappy, high-heeled sandals.
Unfortunately, behind the bar is Jordana – bartender girl who’s always flirting with Henry – in her tank top that barely contains her breasts, giving me an insincere smile.
“A bottle of water, please,” I order, and she dips down to grab it and hands it over, knowing she can give me what I want free of charge since I’m Adriano’s sister.
Before the dance floor gets too crowded, I continue my perusal to the far side of the club. As I screw open the top of the bottle, my movement stops when I notice a couple at the foot of the polished black staircase.
Henry stands out in his impeccably pressed slacks and fitted white dress shirt, completed with a black bow tie. Only, tonight, his thick hair is slicked back, and he’s with red bikini woman, the brunette from the beach on Sunday. They’re talking to each other in a manner that indicates familiarity, and she keeps touching him, trying to seduce him in her champagne-colored dress with a plunging neckline, yet he doe
sn’t appear to be annoyed by her frisky behavior. Quite the opposite, he shifts closer, muttering something to her, causing her lips to curve up into a Cheshire cat grin.
My legs feel weak, and I lean back against the bar for support, placing the bottle on to the counter. He’s been with her while I’ve been pining for him like a moron. I’m no one to him, or else he would’ve at least called to settle our disagreement. Weren’t we friends?
My heart shatters into tiny pieces as my stare is glued on them. They’re beautiful together. Both tall and dashing. I realize she must be someone important to him, because I’ve never encountered Henry with the same woman twice. Apparently, she’s made him forget about me.
What does she have that I don’t?
A lump forms in my throat, but I refuse to break down in public. The second I start to turn away, Henry looks up and meets my eyes as I blink back pooling moisture. He straightens, then takes a step forward but halts.
“Hey, Mary,” a voice says from behind me.
This guy has the worst timing.
“Keano.” I hold Henry’s cool gaze.
“I’m sorry about Sunday. Can we just have a drink together?” Keano touches my hip, standing sideways against me.
Henry’s expression becomes unreadable before he turns and practically tugs the woman with him up the stairs.
When resentment fills me, I say to Keano, “Yes, let’s have a drink upstairs.”
I won’t allow Henry to callously cast me away, so I make a beeline around the dance floor toward the staircase as sadness is replaced with irritation. He gets to fuck every woman in the Loop, but he can’t even speak to me because he sees me with Keano? After he’s ignored me while he was most likely with her?
On the second balconied floor, poker players, all in tuxedos, are situated at the tables alongside the wall in the carpeted VIP area that’s been transformed into a casino for the Heads-Up Poker Tournament.
Incensed, I search for Henry and find him settling himself in a padded chair, a king seated on his throne, at a mahogany table with a croupier, and the woman is standing next to him.
Unexpectedly, Keano passes me and claims the chair opposite Henry, who leans back defiantly as I flank Keano and he loops his arm around my middle.
Henry’s silver-grey irises become ice-cold, and then, calmly, he scoots his chair back and the woman perches down on his lap while his gaze is locked on mine.
Are you freakin’ kidding me?!
His provocation works. Not once have I ever confronted him willingly with Keano, but he keeps throwing his women in my face.
Want to play, Henry? Let’s play.
CHAPTER 6
Henry
I tow Tara along with me to the poker table and order a beer before taking my seat. I’ve never had such a wide array of clashing emotions pulling me in different directions.
As I roll up my sleeves, I’m consumed with a petite woman who makes me rethink my cautiousness about letting someone get close to me. A woman who’s currently mad at me.
Last Sunday at Oak Street Beach marked a change between Mary and me, and since then, the thought of her with Keano pisses me off to no end. That aside, we didn’t end on good terms that day, and she didn’t contact me afterward. I’ve simply been busy with work, but I assumed she wasn’t with that guy anymore. Yet now I finally see her again after five fucking days, only to discover that she’s here with him, and that makes my blood boil.
A waiter places a bottle of beer on the table just as Keano plops down across from me, grinning conceitedly and sending me a silent message: Mary’s still mine.
To which I send my own message: Fuck you, motherfucker.
Then Mary stops next to him, eying Tara with derision. Downright caught off guard by Mary’s boldness – I’d guessed she would have left – I clench my beer for a second, feeling like the glass is going to give under my fingers. But when Keano puts his arm around her and pulls her close, the sheer, unadulterated fury coursing through me snaps.
Scooting my chair back, I watch Mary as I angle my knee sideways and Tara sits down eagerly, mumbling, “Well, this is interesting. I’ll play along.”
Disregarding her, I take a long swig of my beer while the croupier informs Keano, “Sir, that seat is taken. A reservation is needed to play with Mister Pierce.”
“It’s fine. One game,” I interrupt, examining Mary’s tight black dress, which stops mid-thigh and is wrapped around her body like cling wrap, accentuating her narrow waist and curvaceous hips.
She’s a vision with her copper brown curls swept over one shoulder, gold bracelets adorning her wrist, and barely a hint of makeup, tempting and so fucking sexy in her own unique, spirited way.
Brazenly, I laze back and untie my bow tie, letting it hang around the collar of my white dress shirt before I undo the top two buttons of it. Mary follows the movement closely, her gaze moving up my throat, over the spade tattoo, and past my beard – I haven’t bothered to shave in days.
Her mouth is set as if she ate something nasty when Tara leans close to my face and whispers, “I’ll just wait until you two are done.”
Tara rests back against me, and a tremble goes through me from the unwanted closeness. Her spicy perfume overwhelms me while arrows of jealousy fly from Mary’s hazel eyes. I really shouldn’t engage Mary like this, but evidently, I act before I think when it comes to her.
“Deal,” I order, throwing a five-hundred-dollar chip onto the center of the table, wanting his arm away from her waist before I pull out my gun.
Taking my cards in one hand, I fan them out to see that I have a pair of queens, which is a good hand in one-on-one poker.
Keano releases her, discarding two cards and drawing two new ones – he’s much too eager. Undoubtedly not a regular player. “Raise.” He matches my five hundred and raises it with another five hundred.
I school my expression into one of indifference. “Call.” I match his five hundred as his smug grin grows wider, but the vein in his neck is ticking relentlessly – he’s afraid to lose two thousand dollars now.
This is all a numbers game, and chances are highly unlikely that he has a hand that’ll beat me. I think he only has one high card and is bluffing to save face in front of Mary, who’s glowering at me nonstop.
Back down, baby. Don’t push me.
I swear it’s as if she reads my thoughts, because she arches a brow in challenge and places her palm on Keano’s shoulder to supposedly look at his cards as I grip mine forcefully, allowing her to bait me.
What the fuck am I doing?
Keano lays out his hand, showing an ace – just as I anticipated: one high card. I fling my pair onto the table, fighting not to look at Mary, because frankly, I’m liable to shoot someone if everyone keeps playing games around me.
Gesturing for Tara to stand up, I tell her, “Order another beer for me.”
She gets up and struts away.
I lean forward, threatening, “Don’t ever bother me again, motherfucker. You don’t want to feel my wrath.” Then I wave over the nearest guard. “Escort him out and ban Keano Mathews from the club.”
While Keano keeps quiet, his arrogant attitude fading away, Mary’s brows furrow and she objects, “What?!” not even finding me important enough to look at anymore. “You can’t—”
“You can join him if you’d like,” I cut her off, loathing how she defends him.
“It’s okay, Mary. We can just go to Cocktails & Heels.” He rises as one of the guards grabs his upper arm.
“Seriously, is this necessary, Henry?” she addresses me directly for the first time while I nod for the guard to proceed and he pulls Keano down the hall. “You’re an ass,” Mary snarls, and when she turns on her heel, I surge up and block her path.
“If I’m an ass, what does that make you?” I edge forward as she moves back until she hits the wall, and I speak in a low voice, “Why the fuck are you still with him?”
She straightens as I pay no attention to the other
people milling around. “Why do you care? Why have you been with her?”
“Tara?” I muse aloud, tilting my head.
“Yes, if that’s the name of the cougar. I guess you were too busy with Tara all week to take time to call me, your friend.” The word friend is hissed with spite.
I wasn’t. I only saw Tara on Sunday and then again tonight, right before I saw Mary.
Becoming even more irate when she doesn’t deny that she’s still with Keano, I plant one palm against the wall and retort, “You could’ve called me. But I guess you were too busy continuing with Keano while you know damn well you don’t want him.” Then my other arm shoots out, hand against the wall so that I have her caged in as our eyes meet, even though I’m a head taller than her. “You don’t want him the way you want me, baby. That’s what pisses you off.”
She pushes against my chest, yet I don’t move a muscle nor do I invade her personal space.
“You can judge me all you want for staying with Keano, Henry. But we both play the same game. I’m just your friend, remember? You’ve made that abundantly clear. And I’ve never once thrown my relationship with him in your face while you’ve been screwing around with bartender girl and Tara.”
“You keep coming to me, remember that,” I point out with a growl. “You came to this club with him. You fucking came up here with him.”
“I didn’t come in with him,” she returns, and my hands fall away from the wall as she shoves against me, quickly stepping around me this time. The saddest expression flits across her face as she walks backward, away from me. “But since you’ve banned him because of me and you’re busy with Tara, I’ll leave you to it.”
I let out a grunt, not knowing how to respond, which is a rare occurrence for me. But when Tara returns with my beer, I realize that I need to handle her first, so I let Mary go, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw hurts.
I have to organize my thoughts. Thoughts that keep being disrupted the second Mary’s in my proximity.
Violently, I grip my hair but drop my hands when Tara jerks her chin toward Mary as she leaves. “So who is she? Another one of the women you’ve been with in an attempt to forget me?”
