by Claire Adams
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” she said.
He brought his hand up and rubbed his chin, his brow furrowing. Then he snapped his fingers. “Got it,” he said. “I’ve seen you at Failte.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Yeah, probably! My best friend and I go there all the time.”
“You’re keeping all the good-looking women here, Roubideaux,” Billy said. “First Petra, then Annie, now this one . . .” He gave Daisy the eyes. “You seeing anyone, sweetheart?” I felt a flare of anger swirl through my chest, but I gritted my teeth and grinned.
Daisy looked at me, and then said—rather empathically—“No.”
That was all Billy needed to hear. Even if she had been seeing someone, that had never deterred him before. He could be a downright scoundrel when he wanted to be—he’d probably slept with more women than I had—but no fucking way was he going to move in on Daisy, I didn’t give a shit what dirty thoughts were going through his mind right now.
“Well.” He rubbed his palms together and stood up. “Thrilled to hear it. Anyway, I’ve got to run, but I sure do hope to see you around.”
“He was nice,” Daisy said after he left. “It’s so funny, I’ve seen him around the bar before, but we never talked.
“So,” I said, “you’re not seeing anyone?”
“That’s what we said we were going to do, wasn’t it?” she asked. “We weren’t going to tell anyone?”
Maybe, but that was really more in regards to Jonathan; I hadn’t factored Billy fuckin McAllister coming into the picture.
12.
Daisy
After work, I met up with Caroline for a drink.
“You won’t believe it,” I said, “but that red-haired guy that we see here sometimes is a client of Ian’s. He came into the office today.”
“He’s hot,” Caroline said. She leaned toward me. “You know whose son he is though, don’t you?”
“Son? No, I don’t.”
“Seamus McAllister. He’s basically the head of the Irish mafia. Well, it’s not really the mafia, but it’s kind of like that.”
I gave her a skeptical look. “How do you know?”
“I don’t know; it’s one of those things that I thought everyone just kind of knew.”
“I certainly didn’t know that. And why would someone from the mafia need security services?”
“It’s not really the mafia. But it’s like it.” Caroline’s eyes shifted past me toward the door. “And speak of the devil,” she said.
I turned and looked over my shoulder. Billy had just breezed in, and it was like he had a homing device or something, the way he looked right over at me, even though we were toward the back.
“Oh crap,” I said. “He’s coming over.”
“Of course he is.”
“I was hoping you might be here,” he said when he reached our table. “Mind if I join you?”
Caroline shot me a glance; she was going to leave this one up to me. “No, that’s fine.” He plopped down at the table; one of the waitresses was already coming over with a black and tan for him.
“Daisy,” he said. He had blue eyes with a mischievous glint in them, and short, rust-colored hair. His skin was pale, lightly freckled. “You know, it’s funny that I ran into you like that at Ruby’s.”
“Ruby?”
“Roubideaux. Ruby. It’s nicer than calling him Dodo. It’s a term of endearment, really. But yeah—fancy meeting you there! And now here. Because I’ve actually had my eye on you for quite some time.”
Caroline cleared her throat.
“I’m being rude.” Billy held his hand out. “Billy McAllister,” he said to her. “And you are?”
“Caroline. Daisy’s best friend.”
“Ah,” he said. “A best friend. That’s good. Ruby and I used to be best friends.” He looked at me. “I don’t know if he ever mentioned that to you.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I’m not surprised. He doesn’t really like to talk about his past much, if you haven’t been able to figure that out for yourself. Me, though. I’m all about reliving the good old days.” He smiled. “You two barely look old enough to have had any good old days.”
“We’re old enough,” Caroline said. Billy laughed.
“I like this one,” he said, patting her on the shoulder. “Can I buy you ladies a round of drinks?”
Caro looked at me. “Sure, why not,” I said.
“Great. Much obliged.”
He signaled to one of the waitresses, and she returned a minute later with three bottles of Beamish.
She brought them over and Billy gave her a grin. “I’ve got two lovely ladies tonight,” he said.
“Good for you, Billy.” We all laughed, and he held his beer up and we clinked them together.
While we drank our beers, he told us a story about a famous actor who had come to one of his father’s poker clubs.
“This guy,” he said. “You all know him. You’ve probably swooned over him, got his posters hanging on the wall in your bedroom.”
“Yeah right,” Caroline said, rolling her eyes. “We’re not in high school.”
“Well, either way. You know this guy. I know this guy. The whole fuckin world knows this guy, and he shows up at my dad’s club, a hundred grand that he thinks he’s going to triple by the end of the night. Ambitious guy. Now, I usually don’t play, but that night I couldn’t resist. I’m not the best poker player, but our A-list actor, by this point, he’d had a few drinks, was feeling a little cocky, and went all in and lost to my pair of aces.”
“Who was the guy?” Caroline asked.
“Yeah!” I said. “Who was he?”
Billy shook his head. “That, my lovelies, I can’t tell you.”
“Pictures or it didn’t happen.”
He grinned. “Not going to fall for that. You’re just going to have to take my word for it.”
Billy was funny and easy to talk to. He wasn’t someone that I’d go out on a date with, but he was definitely a lot of fun to hang around.
13.
Ian
Daisy waited until we were done working for the day to ask me what I was doing Saturday night.
“I don’t have any plans,” I said. “Did you have something in mind?”
“I want you to meet my friend Caroline,” she said. “I know we’re keeping things quiet at work but—”
“I thought I said that we weren’t going to tell anyone about this.”
A quizzical expression crossed her face. “What? I thought you meant just at work. I didn’t think you meant I couldn’t talk to my best friend about it. We talk about everything.”
“Great,” I said. It always baffled me how most women had this insane need to have some sort of confidante to spill every last detail of her life to. Not saying that guys didn’t also talk about shit with each other, but not to the degree the women did. I’d overheard girls talking about dick size, how many fingers he put her up her snatch, whether or not he had hair around his asshole. What his come tasted like, if he was circumcised, how he cried out like a girl when he came. Don’t get me wrong—guys bragged about bagging girls all the time, but they didn’t go into minute fucking detail, the way I was sure that Daisy and this friend of hers would.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“I don’t know—do you feel like going out for sushi?”
“Sure,” I said. “Tomorrow night? I’ve got to come in and do a couple things around here, but I can come by your place around six?”
Daisy grinned. “That’d be perfect!” she said, and just from the way she said it, I knew she had already set the whole thing up with her friend.
We met up with her friend, Caroline, at Unscaled, which was one of the newer restaurants that I hadn’t been to before. Sushi was not, actually, a culinary favorite of mine, though there were a few things that I didn’t mind.
The place was crowded, and there was some sort
of shitty electronic music playing. We were seated at a table in the middle of the dining area; Daisy and me on one side, Caroline on the other. She was cute—though not as cute as Daisy—and was definitely one of those women who was used to calling the shots about everything.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said as we sipped our hot green tea.
“Likewise,” I replied, though Daisy hadn’t really told me that much about her.
“So you’re the owner of the company?” she asked.
I pulled my chopsticks out of the wrapper and snapped them apart. What was this—a job interview? No, this was the friend interview, to see if I was worthy enough to go out with her friend.
“What’s good here?” I asked, sliding the menu toward me.
“I like the crazy roll,” Daisy said. “Caro and I sometimes get the sushi platter for two. And the Harmony roll—it’s salmon and avocado topped with fresh lemon slices.” She grinned. “My mouth is just watering thinking about it.”
Fortunately, I noticed a small section dedicated to their cooked selections; and there was salmon teriyaki, front and center.
“I am going to go with the salmon teriyaki, actually,” I said. “But maybe I’ll try a piece or two of sushi if you get enough.”
“Oh,” Daisy said. “Are you . . . are you not a fan of sushi?”
“It’s all right,” I said. “There’s a few things I like, though I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite food.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You should have told me! We didn’t have to come here.”
“Aren’t you like, an avid fishermen or something like that?” Caroline said.
I smiled thinly, just wondering what Daisy had told her about our little boat outing. “I have a boat, if that’s what you’re referring to. And I do enjoy fishing, though that’s something I haven’t done in a while. Eating raw fish, though, is not one of my favorite things, though I have tried it on numerous occasions.”
Caroline smirked. “I figured a guy like you would be into that sort of thing.”
I had to try mightily not to roll my eyes. It was going to be a long evening.
14.
Daisy
After my second cup of green tea, I had to pee, so I left Caroline and Ian at the table, waiting for our food. We’d gotten some sake, too, though I’d only had one cup so far, and my face felt pleasantly flushed and everything seemed to be going so well that I grinned like a fool all the way across the dining room and into the restroom.
As I was standing there washing my hands, the bathroom stall next to the one I’d just been in opened and a girl stepped out. She was probably around my age, athletic and pretty with long brown hair and large blue eyes. I could tell she was looking at me in the big mirror as we stood there, running water over our hands. I looked up and caught her eye; she looked away.
I was just reaching to turn the water off when she spoke.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean for this to sound weird, but . . . is that your boyfriend?” she finally said. “That guy you’re with out there?”
“Um . . . yeah,” I said. “He is.”
“Oh, okay.” She smiled. “That’s what I figured. You guys have this really great energy. But I’m asking because my friend thinks he’s so hot, but I didn’t want her to make a fool of herself by asking him out.”
“Well, that’s nice of you,” I said. “But . . . yeah. Sorry. He’s taken.”
“I told her he was. But couldn’t hurt to ask.” She shut the faucet off and stepped around me to get the paper towels. She pulled one out of the dispenser, handed it to me, then took another for herself.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem. You guys have a good night.”
“We will; you too.”
She left the bathroom and I finished drying my hands off, then balled the paper towel up and tossed it into the trash. Had that just happened? Did a stranger just approach me to ask about my boyfriend? Who wasn’t actually my boyfriend, but he wasn’t not my boyfriend, either.
I walked back out into the dining room, past the table that girl was sitting at with two other friends. I tried to figure out which one it was that had wanted to ask Ian out, but I had no clue. Really, for all I knew, it could’ve been the girl in the bathroom who was really interested in him and she was just saying it like that because she didn’t want me to know it was her. She caught my eye as I walked past and gave me a little smile; I returned it, feeling almost giddy. These sorts of things just didn’t happen to me, but it seemed like since I’d met Ian, I was getting to experience all sorts of new things.
As I approached our table, I could see Caroline, laughing at something Ian had just said. I slowed my gait down, just to watch him for a moment. He really was incredibly gorgeous, the sort of physical perfection that made you stop and stare and wondered how on earth it was that someone could be put together that well.
“Thought you got lost,” he said when I finally made it back to the table. He nodded in front of him. “Our food has arrived.”
It certainly had. The waitress had brought out two huge platters, arranged artfully with half a dozen different sushi rolls and sashimi. There were also bowls of seaweed salad and steaming miso soup, and then Ian’s salmon teriyaki.
“Wow,” I said. “It looks delicious.”
Caroline had her chopsticks in hand and was stabbing at a green slab of wasabi. “I dare you to eat this whole thing,” she said to Ian.
“You know, in my youth, I might have taken you up on such a thing,” he said. “But now I’d like to at least think I’m a little wiser.”
“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug.
Even though we’d all had some sake with dinner, I thought that after we might all go out and get a drink. I didn’t even really care if I had another drink—I was already feeling the tiniest bit buzzed—I was just really enjoying myself and didn’t want the night to end. But when I suggested it, Caroline shook her head.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Really?” I asked. “Even just for a little bit? I’m having so much fun with you guys; I don’t want the night to be over yet.”
“Sorry, Daisy,” she said. “I’ve got a big deadline coming up, and I’ve got to get up early tomorrow to meet with a client. Another time, though.”
“Well, it was a pleasure to finally meet you,” Ian said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”
Caroline smiled. “Great,” she said, coming over to give me a hug. “Call me later, okay?”
“Will do,” I said.
I waved as she walked off, leaving Ian and me standing there. He looked down at me. “So you’re not ready for the night to end,” he said.
“No, I’m not. But . . . if it has to, I understand.”
“It doesn’t have to. Why don’t we go back to your place?”
And just the way he said it, I knew that we were going to have sex, and the thought of it sent a tingling happiness through my whole body.
15.
Ian
We caught a cab back to Daisy’s place. When she got in, she slid all the way over, but once I was in and the door was shut, I patted the seat between us.
“Why don’t you come over here,” I said.
She obliged, sliding over, her leg touching mine. I put my hand on her thigh and squeezed lightly.
“I had a good time tonight,” I said, “though I don’t think your friend liked me too much.”
“Caroline? What are you talking about? She likes you.”
Sure she did. I didn’t give a shit either way, but it was pretty obvious that Daisy’s friend wasn’t that hip on me, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from a girl like that. I didn’t need to have any in-depth conversation with her to know exactly her type. You know, the sort that needs to be in control all the time, calling all the shots. Who thinks guys should be effeminate, wear skinny jeans, and be willing to offer up their balls on a platter at a moment’s notice. Ha. No effing thanks. But I’d le
t Daisy think whatever she wanted, and I knew it made her happier to believe that Caroline and I could hit it off and we’d all be able to hang out and go out to brunch together and later play Cards Against Humanity or some shit.
But Daisy . . . she wasn’t like that. She didn’t need to be in control all the time, and I liked that. When we got to her apartment, I paid the cab and slid out. She kept looking around, over her shoulder, as we walked over to her door, but there were just a few people walking by, talking quietly, the cars driving by on the street.
Inside her apartment, she felt around on the wall and turned the light on. It was a cute place, everything neat and orderly; there was the small entryway, then a short hallway to the bathroom and kitchen, at the end of the hallway was the living room and then, connected to it by two French doors, the bedroom.
I followed her down to the living room; I had waited long enough. I could tell that she was ready for it, too.
She set her purse down next to the couch and turned to say something to me, but I just stepped up and pulled her to me, pressed my mouth firmly against hers. Her body melded to mine instantly, like this was just the thing she was waiting for. She groaned softly as I let my hands roam her body, running down the length of her sides, then back up, tracing my hands lightly over her breasts. Feeling them like this through her shirt though simply wasn’t enough; I leaned back a bit so I could pull her shirt off, then her bra.
She had great tits; they weren’t big, but they were high and firm, the sort that didn’t require a bra of any sort, with pale pink nipples that tightened up real quick when I touched them, first with my hands, then my mouth. She made little whimpering noises and raked her hands through my hair.
I was like an explorer conquering new territory; I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d deflowered someone, though there had been a few. I wanted to make this as memorable for her as possible; how many stories did you hear about the first time being god-awful?
