by K. Marie
"Let go!” I yelled in disgust, pitching my voice to be heard above the pounding music.
But, whether he’d heard or not, he didn’t loosen his hold.
What in the hell is his problem? I’d given every sign of disinterest.
Digging my nails into the skin of his hand, I tried inflicting pain, but that didn’t seem to work. My annoyance quickly turned into alarm. I didn’t want any man holding me against my will, especially one I’d met only thirty minutes ago.
I started to struggle in earnest, trying to get Marie’s attention, and trying to get the asshole off of me. But Marie’s back was turned with her attention focused on the guy she was dancing with; oblivious to what was happening.
In my struggle, she got lost in the crowd, and I quickly lose sight of her. I glanced about frantically—trying to catch a glimpse of her, and my gaze locked with a pair of dark eyes instead.
The eyes stared straight at me, seemingly rooting me to the spot, because, I would swear that I’d suddenly stopped moving.
Then something weird happened. Like the pull of a magnet in slow motion, everything else seemed to fade into the background as our eyes connected for what seemed forever, but I knew was in reality only mere seconds. The man stood leaning casually against a nearby wall, draped in all black from head to toe, hands casually tucked into the front pockets of his slacks.
But, our lightning quick moment grinded to a halt, when I was jarred back to the reality of douche-bag damn near dry-humping me on the dance floor.
The man in black is swiftly forgotten when the asshole plants his face into the side of my neck. Ewe!
I lost my shit, throwing my head to the right in an attempt to dislodge his face, and kicking my foot back to cause him pain. It just barely grazed his leg.
I jabbed my elbow into whatever body part was closest—then hauled back and slapped him square in the sweaty forehead with my right palm. Yuck!
I felt instant satisfaction, but he still didn’t budge.
On the verge of Stop, Drop and Roll as a last desperate resort, the asshole finally lifted his face from my neck, but still didn’t let go. Anyone looking at us would probably think we were just fooling around on the dance floor; never suspecting I was being held against my will, literally.
The douche-bag’s behavior screamed of him being a potential date rapist.
However, just when I thought my attempts at physical assault had been futile, I felt him pull abruptly away, loosening his hold on me. I didn’t waste a second taking advantage of my opportunity to move quickly out of his reach. But, when I whipped around in anger to confront him—intent on kicking him in the balls, I froze.
The man in black had him gripped by the collar of his shirt, in a choke-hold by the looks of it.
The Douche sported a comical look of confusion that I registered, but didn’t have the presence of mind to enjoy, because I could do nothing more than stare.
Up close, the man in black was frigging gawk-worthy.
His dark gaze never left mine as he lowered his head to speak close to douche-bag’s ear; the little shit being almost a head shorter. And whatever he’d said must have had impact, causing the douche-bag’s eyes to move quickly back to mine, a surprised look of fright on his face. The man in black then loosened his grip on the fool’s shirt and gave him a slight shove away, as though in disgust. But the dumb-ass stupidly turned to confront him, and got pinned with a hard look, that seemed to dare him to make a move.
Expecting a confrontation, I took a few nervous steps back.
The man in black stood wearing a menacing scowl, but with his arms relaxed to his sides; stance suggesting he didn’t take the douche-bag as a serious threat. He didn’t even blink as his lips moved, saying something I couldn’t hear above the loud music, but something that was obviously effective.
Douche-bag made a smart decision by backing slowly away; pivoting towards me, then darting a quick look my way as he made haste leaving the dance floor.
Three
Everything happened so fast, that now in the aftermath, I was left standing awkwardly alone…face-to-face with my knight in all black armor. The man now stood close enough for me to see the dark scruff on his chiseled jaw, his direct gaze was unnerving.
“Um—thank you for that,” I rushed to say to him, feeling grateful.
He eyed me a second, before simply giving a nod, and then without a word, he turned to exit the dance floor.
Taken aback, I just stood gaping, watching his retreat. The man had come to save the day and obviously considered his job complete.
Then it hit me. Of course! The man in black worked at the club. Protecting women from overzealous men was likely part of his job. With his height and build, I presumed he must be part of security.
Shaking my head in disbelief over the entire fiasco, I turned to make my own exit; heading in the direction douche-bag just scurried off to. I couldn’t help smiling, remembering the creep scurrying like the little rat that he is.
I didn’t spot Marie anywhere as I made my way back to our group; she’d missed the entire debacle out there on the dance floor. But, at the last minute, I decided to take a detour for a much needed potty-break and headed in that direction instead.
As I’m making my way back from the rest room, however, my steps faltered, when I noticed the man in black walking in my direction. His attention was focused on the tall, dark haired man beside him—but as they neared me, he glanced in my direction and noticed me as well. My pulse gave an involuntary leap as our eyes connected, his laser beam gaze remaining on me long seconds, before finally sliding away.
He said something to his companion, and then instead of walking by me as I’d expected, he veered directly in my path.
I brought myself to an abrupt halt, effectively stopped in my tracks, as he stood just a few short feet in front of me. The other man continued on his way, and I stood as a deer caught in headlights, not having anticipated that move at all. The man in black is tall, and because he’s so close, I had to crane my head back to look up at him. Otherwise, my gaze would be bulls-eyed on his chest.
He clearly had no issues with invading personal space.
Disconcerted, I took an instinctive step back, and saw his eyes narrow at my movement. I instantly noticed that the eyes I’d mistaken for a dark brown out on the darkened dance floor, were actually green color. Much like the color of emeralds.
The man was damned gorgeous. The dim lighting inside had not done him justice.
“I trust you’ve had no further problems?” he asked, deep voice surprisingly tinged with an accent.
Intrigued, I offered a small smile. “No, no more problems. Thanks again for what you did back there, I couldn’t get that creep to let go of me,” I told him.
“It was my pleasure, I’m sorry you had to experience that,” he said in return.
“Yeah, so am I,” I retorted with a rueful smile. And got rewarded with a small upturn of his lips.
Those lips. My attention zeroed in on them, on just how perfectly kissable they were. The man in black had perfect lips.
Wait, what?
I immediately slammed the door shut on that thought, forcing myself to look away.
However, as I focused my gaze back on his emerald eyes, I decided there really wasn’t a safe-zone in which to look. With his perfect facial symmetry, chiseled jaw, high cheekbones and perfect straight nose—if a man could be considered beautiful, he’d qualify. And I wasn’t talking about a feminine sort of beauty either, but in a purely masculine, testosterone-driven, I want him to rip my clothes off sort of way.
Stop that! I checked myself, wondering what in the hell had gotten into me. You’d think I’d never seen an attractive man before.
“Um, sorry?” I stammered dumbly, caught openly gawking.
Now I felt like an ass, because I’d obviously missed a thread of the conversation.
“Garland,” he said for what was likely the second time, a hint of amusement in his eye
s.
“Oh, I’m Camry,” I said, reaching to grasp his offered hand. The hand I’d apparently ignored while ogling him.
“Garland is a unique name,” I remarked, having only heard the name associated with Christmas decorations.
“I’m a unique man, Camry,” he returned, with an air of confidence that strangely didn’t come off as being arrogant or obnoxious.
Nervous butterflies took sudden flight in my stomach, as I questioned whether his firm grip on my hand had lasted longer than the act called for. He hadn’t let go of my hand.
First, the douche-bag, now him. What was with the men in this club tonight?
“So, do you work here, rescuing women part of your job?” I rushed to ask, the moment awkward.
“I guess you could say that,” he answered simply.
Yet, he still didn’t let go of my hand. I glanced down with a pointed look.
Garland eyed our joined hands as if just realizing he still gripped mine. But instead of letting go, he lifted it to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of it.
“I’m on my way out, but it was a pleasure meeting you, Camry. I’m glad I could be of help tonight,” he said.
“Um, likewise, it was a pleasure meeting you as well,” I managed to tell him, flustered as hell. The man just had those sexy lips on my hand!
“Try to enjoy the rest of your night,” he imparted, before walking off in the direction he’d been originally headed.
I watched him go, feeling oddly disappointed. What I’d expected exactly, I really couldn’t say.
Calling myself a fool, I mentally shook it off and reluctantly headed back toward the noisy part of the club. But, I’d walked less than fifty feet when I heard my name being called by a masculine voice.
I glanced a look over my shoulder, then halted my steps and turned, when I saw Garland walking back towards me. I barely have time to blink before he’s standing before me again.
“Are you vacationing in South Beach?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Are you vacationing with your husband—I’m assuming you’re married?” he clarified, indicating my left hand with a wave of his own.
“Oh, no, to both questions. I’m engaged, not yet married,” I corrected, flustered all over again.
He pinned me with an inexplicable look; a beat of uncomfortable silence passing between us. “There’s a party tomorrow night, I’d like to invite you as my guest. You’re welcome to bring a friend as well,” he said.
“Thank you, that’s very generous. But, I’m here in South Beach with my sister and three others, so there are five of us,” I replied, surprised by the invitation.
“Then, all five of you are welcome,” he returned smoothly.
“Do you have a phone?” he asked.
I must take too long to respond, because I received a raised eyebrow in silent question.
The man must think me an idiot. “Yes, of course I have a phone,” I told him. Who didn’t own a cell phone nowadays?
“May I see it?” he asked, eyeing me as though suspecting me mentally challenged.
I was clearly making an ass of myself.
I reached into my small clutch to pull out my phone; placing my thumb on the home button to unlock it. Garland held out his hand in askance, and I dumbly handed it over.
He could be a phone thief for all I know.
Not wasting time, he tapped away at the keypad, then reached into the breast pocket of his jacket to pull out his own phone. Obviously satisfied with what he saw, he stuck it back into his pocket before handing me back mine.
“I’ll phone you tomorrow with the details. Until then, you’ve got my number to call in case you find yourself in trouble again,” Garland said with a small smile.
Charmed, I couldn’t help smiling back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Until tomorrow, Camry,” he said, before turning on his heels and walking away. Again.
I had to shake my head to clear the fog from my brain. Had I lost my mind?
Did I seriously just exchange phone numbers with that man? Beside me being engaged and it being totally inappropriate; Garland had trouble written all over him. My brain urged me to just forget the gorgeous man’s existence, but a small part of me, the dumb part, was admittedly intrigued. Besides, there was nothing improper about being invited to a party, right?
“What in the hell happened to you?” Marie shouted as soon as she saw me. “We were on the dance floor and you just disappeared!” she accused.
I shook my head in disgust, remembering what happened. “We got separated on the dance floor and I couldn’t find you, I had that douche-bag all over me and ended up having to be rescued by some guy,” I explained. Not in the mood to elaborate, I gave her the short and edited version.
“Douche-bag?” she questioned, with a look of confusion.
“The little runt,” I answered.
Spotting him sitting on the sofa several feet away, I nodded in his direction, and accidentally made eye contact with him. He hurriedly looked away, and I couldn’t help wondering what Garland said to him. He was obviously afraid or embarrassed by what happened. I hoped he’d learned a lesson, though, I knew his kind rarely do.
“Oh, the cutie,” Marie said, following my gaze.
I whipped my head back to look at her. “Cutie?” I questioned incredulously.
“Well, I think he’s cute, though, you seemed to hate him at hello,” she said.
“I didn’t hate him, I just wasn’t interested. He didn’t so easily take a hint,” I told her.
Marie laughed. “If he could see the look on your face right now, I’m sure he’d get the message.”
“I believe he’s done with me already, so my don’t-fuck-with-me face is likely unnecessary,” I told her, remembering his confrontation with Garland.
“Really? Then maybe I’ll give him my number,” Marie said with a goofy wink.
“Hey, if you like him, go for it,” I offered, shaking my head in wonderment.
Marie’s terrible taste in men never ceased to amaze me.
An attractive woman with a lot going for her, she always went after men I’d describe as losers. Meaning, they’re typically good looking but unemployed, have zero potential or is players, or are unavailable. However, those factors had never deterred Marie before. I’d always admired her confidence in going after men she wanted…however ill-advised.
Four
The brightness of the sun penetrating my closed eyelids dragged me from a hard sleep.
Groaning, I flipped over to avoid the glare, but after only a few minutes, huffed in resignation. We’d only gotten back to the hotel a little after 3 a.m., I couldn’t have been asleep for very long.
Tossing back the covers, I dragged myself out of bed to close the curtains; and nearly lost my balance as I stumbled over one of the heels I’d worn the previous night. Throwing my arm out in barely enough time, I managed to avoid planting my head into the opposite wall.
“Shit!” I yelled, wincing in pain as my baby finger bent backwards.
Perhaps I had a bit too much to drink last night.
Then again, my fuzzy head could be due to the ridiculously loud den and unintelligible screaming of the rapper, Crank.
Nursing my finger, I took an internal inventory as I shuffled to the toilet. My brain was foggy, my mouth tasted like an ashtray, and my stomach felt as if the slightest amount of encouragement would have me praying to the Porcelain God.
We ended up going to a second club last night, where several guys kept buying us rounds of tequila shots. I’d obviously gone over my quota.
Mental note to self…Don Julio is not my friend.
After relieving my bladder and brushing my teeth, I stumbled out of the bathroom. Remembering to draw the curtains at the last minute, I ventured across the room, before climbing back into bed to resume sleeping. But as my thoughts drifted back to last night, my eyes popped right back open. Garland!
My God, how coul
d I have forgotten about him?
Don Julio. I reminded myself. The man would be hard to forget otherwise.
The party he invited me to!
He said he’d call today with the details, but did I really want him to? Wasn’t it wrong to even think about another man calling when I was engaged?
“Arrgh!” I groaned, already knowing the answer to that question.
Yet still, Garland intrigued me last night. I’ve met my share of attractive men, but never one as appealing as he. The man exuded confidence, but there was also something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. A hint of mystery perhaps? Even still, did I actually intend to accept the party invite?
Hell yes! Who was I kidding?
The simple fact is, I wanted to see him again. If he called, I would go. Besides, I was here in South Beach to have a good time, and it was only a party.
My guilty line of thinking led me to thoughts of John, my fiancé.
We’ve been together nearly two years now; engaged almost one. Handsome with boy next door looks, John was intelligent and hardworking, and had been more than patient with my wish to hold off wedding planning until I’d completed my MBA.
I’d just started back working on my degree when we met by chance at a local coffee house. Both of us had been busy working on our laptops, when we decided to take a break, and headed back to the counter for refills at the same time. We struck-up a friendly conversation and hit it off.
Being a single mother had its challenges when it came to dating, but John treated both me and my five-year-old daughter, Autumn, very well. However, if I were being honest, I would admit that earning my degree is only half the reason I’d postponed wedding plans. I didn’t fully understand my own hesitation. But, having gotten married young, and having gone through a nasty divorce, the thought of remarrying simply wasn’t that exciting a prospect for me. I had been drawing things out, and could tell John’s patience was wearing thin. I will have completed my degree in a couple of months, so the time to start wedding planning was looming near.
