Control Freak (Second Shots Book 1)

by Ana Novak

  “Don’t you dare rip that dress!” Mel ordered. She had fished my phone out from my purse and was reading my text. “It is him!”

  I mentally cursed myself for saving Shane’s number in my phone’s contacts, but I was also dying to know what he’d said. I picked myself up off the floor, careful not to step on my skirt again.

  “He wants to know what you’re doing tonight. I’ll call him back.” Mel was already tapping the screen.

  “No, you won’t!” Holding my skirt up with one hand, I stomped over to her and snatched the phone. “There will be no calling of any kind. I can text him myself, thank you very much.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a bogan.” Mel pouted prettily.

  “I am not a bogan…whatever that means. And believe it or not, I’m a grown ass woman who’s perfectly capable of seducing a man without your help!”

  “Taylor?”

  Shane’s voice emanated from my phone, and I looked down, horrified. Somehow I’d managed to not only call him, but also put him on speakerphone.

  “Oh, fuck,” I said.

  “That’s exactly what he wants to hear,” Mistral purred from behind me, and I stuck my tongue out at her as I took the phone off speaker and lifted it to my ear.

  “Hello? Shane?”

  His tone was amused. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. My…my friends wouldn’t give me my phone. They’re being obnoxious.” I was rewarded with a chorus of groans from Mel and Mistral, and I shot them both identical death glares. “I didn’t mean to call you. I was going to text you back. I’m sorry.”

  His husky laugh was enough to make my toes curl against the plush carpet. “So you’re out with friends…does that mean you’re busy tonight?”

  “We’re almost done here. Then we’re going to J85 to see that band you told me about.” I was dying to ask if he wanted to meet up, but this conversation was already awkward enough. Fortunately he answered my question with his next sentence.

  “I might stop by,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

  Be there, I wanted to say. Please be there. Instead, I said, “Sure,” and bit my tongue to keep myself from babbling.

  “Don’t go home with any strangers,” he said, and the lilt in his voice was playful, but I grimaced. My one and only one night stand would haunt me forever.

  “You never know with me. Talk to you later, Shane.”

  “See you, sweetheart.”

  I ended the call and immediately cursed. “You two are the worst!” I exclaimed. “Who knows how much he heard? I must have sounded completely desperate!”

  “Oh, come on, Tay. There’s nothing wrong with letting a man know you’re interested.” Mistral picked up my champagne flute from the side table and drained it in one long gulp. “Now where is that Edward Cullen doppelganger? I’m ready to see if he’s that white all over.”

  Said doppelganger was standing off to one side, clutching a garment bag and looking absolutely terrified. “Relax, Edward,” I said to him, shuffling over to take the garment bag. “She’s all bark and no bite.” I made my way back to Mel and waited while she unzipped the back of my gown.

  “So what exactly are you hoping for with this guy, anyway?” Mistral asked me through the door of the dressing room while I was wriggling out of the bridesmaid dress. “Are you looking for commitment?”

  “No.” I arranged the dress on its hanger, careful not to crush the skirt as I zipped up the garment bag around it. “I can’t stop thinking about him, though.” I shook my head, even though they couldn’t see me. “I keep waffling back and forth. I’m just not sure I can handle another serious relationship.”

  “Nothing wrong with casual sex,” Mistral said breezily.

  “Unless it’s casual sex with a guy who’s long term material,” Mel added.

  “If he’s still single a year and a half later, I’m not so sure he is long term material,” I pointed out. I unzipped the second garment bag to find a blue dress with a top that seemed to be made up entirely of glittering ropes of fabric. “What the hell? Is this some kind of bondage special?”

  “It’s from last season’s collection,” Edward piped up helpfully. Apparently he was just standing out there, listening to our entire conversation. “The draped surplice top is especially flattering for bigger busts.”

  Ever the optimist, I had already taken the dress off the hanger and was trying to figure out what hole to put my head through. “Isn’t anyone else concerned that it’s been over a year and Shane is still single? Wouldn’t you say that’s indicative of some kind of fatal flaw in his character?”

  “Only you would use the words ‘fatal flaw’ and ‘character’ in a sentence about a potential fuck buddy,” said Mistral.

  “Maybe he’s a player,” Mel suggested. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Except last time, you left him. I bet that stung. Maybe you’re his unfinished business.”

  “You mean like a ghost who can’t cross over?” I paused, contemplating. “That’s a bizarrely perfect analogy for my love life.” I could see now what Edward had been talking about with the draped surplice top- except that I’d somehow put the dress on backwards, so the surplice top was doing a hell of a job making my shoulder blades look sexy while my entire front was exposed under the twisted blue cords of fabric.

  “I say take him to bed again. That’ll help you make up your mind about whether or not you’re ready for a relationship,” Mistral said.

  “Yes, because seducing a man who is a total sex god will in no way cloud my judgment.” After a brief struggle, I managed to twist the dress around so it was facing the right way, and I had to admit that it looked pretty good. The draped top was sexy as hell as long as I didn’t slouch, and where the fabric crossed over my sides and shoulders, it twisted into shimmering ropes, entwined in an intricate pattern across my back. “I don’t think I can wear a bra with this.”

  “Let me see.” Mel yanked open the door. “Oh, lord. You can’t wear those tights, either.”

  “What’s wrong with my tights? They’re blue. The dress is blue.”

  “That is not a dress you wear with tights,” Mistral said, appearing in the doorway next to Mel. “Off.”

  “Look away, Edward,” I said, glaring at him over Mel’s shoulder. He obediently turned his back to us, and I peeled off the tights and threw them at Mistral. “Happy now?”

  “Bra.”

  I reached around, fumbling between the cords to unclasp my bra. I slid its straps down my arms and fished the undergarment out from underneath my dress before dropping it on top of the rest of my discarded clothing. “Ta-da.”

  “So Flashdance,” Mel said, deadpan.

  “Oh, baby, I have moves you’ve never seen. Am I good now?”

  “Shoes?” Edward suggested from behind them.

  I sighed. “Mel, get out of that dress before my bad relationship juju rubs off on you.” I leaned down to pick up my clothes and yelped when the front of my dress gaped open. “Holy shit! My boobs could pop out any second. How am I supposed to seduce someone in this?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?” Mistral asked.

  “What size shoe do you wear?” Edward asked.

  “Probably,” Mel said to Mistral.

  “Eight,” I said to Edward, and tiptoed out of the dressing room, clutching my clothes to my chest and feeling like a little kid playing dress-up.

  Mistral was helping Mel get out of her wedding dress when Edward brought me a pair of strappy nude sandals with a three inch heel. I obediently put them on and made my way to the full-length mirror for inspection.

  My California tan had faded slightly, but I was still dark enough to pull off bare legs, assuming I didn’t freeze to death walking from our Uber into the club. The pencil skirt on the dress was modest, ending just above my knees, and the stretchy fabric made it easy enough to walk in. Edward was right; the draped surplice top did look fantastic, and as I turned, looking over my shoulder, the cords sparkled in the light. />
  “I love it,” I breathed. “I look…”

  “You look fucking sexy,” Edward said, smiling for the first time since I’d arrived. “Shane won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

  “Thanks, Edward.”

  “Anton.”

  “Oh. Right.” I’d completely forgotten he had a real name. “Thanks, Anton.”

  Chapter 6

  “Do you remember when we used to have to wait in line with the rest of the nobodies?” I asked Mistral as we both watched Mel saunter up to the bouncer.

  “Those days are gone,” she replied, and I could hear the smile in her voice. The guy looked like he was about to swallow his tongue when he recognized Mel. He immediately unclipped the velvet rope and stood back to let her in. She turned and waved us forward, and Mistral and I obediently followed.

  “You’re a doll,” Mistral cooed to the bouncer as we walked past. “It’s getting a tad chilly out here.”

  He smiled weakly, his eyes glued to her cleavage, and it took all my self-control not to burst out laughing.

  The club owner greeted us the moment we walked through the door. “Ms. Archer!” he gushed, rushing forward to take her hand. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

  “Thank you, Philippe! I’m here with friends,” Mel said, and I could tell from the saccharine tone of her voice that she’d turned her Hollywood starlet charm on full blast. “One friend in particular is celebrating a very special occasion. Taylor,” she said, turning to me. “Tonight we’re here for you.”

  I opened my mouth to object, particularly since I didn’t like the way the owner was grinning at me, but Mistral interrupted. “We’re looking for a man for Taylor,” she said to Philippe. “Is there any way you could weed out the undesirables for us?”

  “Anything for you ladies,” Philippe responded. “Let me show you to your table.”

  He took my arm and guided me toward a spiral staircase at the opposite end of the room. The club was dark, lit primarily by blacklights and the occasional fluorescent, and exposed pipes overhead gave it an industrial feel. A band was setting up on the stage in the center of the warehouse. Above us, balconies with steel fencing ringed the room, allowing those in the VIP areas to look down on the dance floor and the bar area on the main floor.

  At the base of the spiral staircase stood a tall blonde man who looked like he could break me in half with his pinky finger. “This is Dolph,” Philippe told me, and Dolph enveloped my hand in his giant paws, his face completely expressionless. “Dolph will- how did your friend say it?- weed out the undesirables for you.”

  “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” I said. “They were just joking.”

  “No, we weren’t,” Mel and Mistral chorused in unison.

  “What’s the special occasion?” Philippe asked as we ascended the staircase together.

  “It’s not really special,” I replied, and made a mental note to murder both of my best friends later. “I just moved back to town after spending a couple of years on the west coast.”

  “Her latest book is on the New York Times bestseller list,” Mistral piped up behind us.

  Philippe paused at the top of the staircase, looking at me curiously. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

  “Taylor Merrick,” Mel answered for me. My inner voice screamed at me to kick her in the shin.

  “We’re so thrilled to have you here, Taylor,” Philippe said politely, and I wanted to die because he clearly didn’t recognize my name at all.

  Philippe led us to a half-circle of couches facing a giant flatscreen TV showing the band getting ready on the stage below. Mel thanked him and asked him to send over a server, and Philippe fell all over himself thanking her for coming to the club. I’m sure he was positively giddy about how many tabloids would be publishing pictures of Mel Archer walking into J85 within the hour.

  Actually, that wouldn’t be all bad, I thought, realizing that if the tabloids put out photos of me with Mel, there would probably be no more drama over the nature of my relationship with Van.

  “Selfie!” Mistral announced, and plopped down on the couch next to me. We both pouted for the camera as she took a photo. “Now tell me this wasn’t an awesome idea,” she said, shoving her phone back into her clutch.

  “It’s definitely an awesome idea. I’m glad you talked me into it.”

  “Now we just need to find you a man.” She popped up and walked over to the railing at the edge of the balcony, and I followed, thinking that there wasn’t much point in arguing. This was the same girl who had nearly torched my wardrobe as punishment for my poor fashion sense.

  “I don’t know, Mistral,” I said, leaning on the railing beside her. “Those lesbians from the fourth floor are starting to sound awfully appealing.”

  Mel snorted as she came up on my other side. “Feeling any urges you’d care to share with us, Tay?”

  “That girl’s hot,” Mistral said, nodding toward the bar. It was still early and the club wasn’t too crowded yet, so I was able to follow Mistral’s gaze and find her intended conquest immediately.

  “I would break her,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “She probably weighs ninety pounds soaking wet.”

  “All angles,” Mistral agreed. “You could cut your tongue on her pelvic bone.”

  Mel and I dissolved into giggles. “Find me someone a little more- a little more substantial,” I managed to say. “Someone who looks like you wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Oh, lady, no one looks like me.” Mistral flipped her flaming hair over her shoulder so that it cascaded down her back, catching the blacklights and glimmering like liquid fire.

  “I’m definitely not arguing.” I surveyed the dance floor, and my eyes landed on a guy standing by the stage. “Hey. There’s one.”

  “Where?” Mistral leaned out over the railing. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “The guy in the white button-down shirt to the right of the stage. Shaggy hair.”

  “He looks like a Backstreet Boy,” Mel exclaimed, and the disdain was evident in her tone.

  “Nick Carter was seriously hot back in the day,” I said defensively.

  “He was skinny as a sapling with the bark scraped off. And he had no jawline.”

  “You are completely stomping all over my childhood fantasies right now. Thanks so much.”

  “If it stops you from seducing a Nick Carter doppelganger, I’ll stomp all I like,” Mel retorted. “Pick another man. A man this time.”

  “Nope, I’m done.” I straightened up, folding my arms across my chest. “I’m not allowed to go home with Nick Carter, and the only woman you found for me has elbows like razor blades. Clearly our tastes are too varied for us to agree on an appropriate candidate.”

  “You sound like an English textbook. Shut up and pick someone else,” Mistral said.

  “Ladies?”

  All three of us turned around to see a young man standing behind us, looking a little unsure of himself. He was tall, taller even than Mistral in her five-inch heels, and his dark hair was spiky, silver studs gleaming in his earlobes.

  “The owner told me to come up and say hi,” he said, and his smile was so awkward that it was almost endearing. “He said I’m supposed to dance with Taylor.”

  We were all speechless, but Mistral was the first one who snapped out of it. “This is Taylor,” she said, shoving me. “She’s on the menu tonight."

  I stumbled forward a step and made a mental note to murder Mistral later. “I just moved back to New York,” I said, trying not to let any of my irritation show in my smile. “My friends are taking me out to celebrate.”

  His responding grin was earnest enough to melt my heart a little. “Would you like to dance, Taylor?”

  “Sure.” I accepted his proffered hand and let him lead me toward the staircase. I threw a glare over my shoulder at my friends as we walked away, but pasted a smile on my face when I turned back to my new dance partner. I was about to ask his name, but as we descended the staircase, his ha
nd slid up my arm and around my waist, and the question died on my lips.

  “Do you come here a lot?” he asked.

  “This is my first time,” I said. “I just moved back.”

  “Right, right. Where’d you move from?”

  “The west coast. California. My mom lives there,” I added, as though that made any difference at all.

  “Yeah, I know what it’s like to have parent problems.”

  “I don’t…” I trailed off. He was leading me across the dance floor instead of onto it. “Aren’t we going to dance?”

  “I need a drink first. Do you want something?”

  “Cape Cod,” I said, and looked around the room. The band was starting and the dance floor was beginning to fill up, but there was no sign of Shane. Maybe he wasn’t coming after all.

  When we got to the bar, my companion ordered my Cape Cod, along with a rum and coke, and the bartender put it on his tab without asking.

  I looked up at the balcony. Mistral and Mel were watching me. Mistral made a motion with her hand, like she was telling me to make a move. I looked back at the man standing next to me. His eyes looked a little glassy, and I was beginning to regret accepting his offer. He seemed perfectly nice, but he definitely wasn’t the man I’d come to see. I sucked my drink determinedly through my straw, hoping to take the edge off my disappointment with alcohol.

  The band settled into their first song, a haunting, screaming cacophony of love and heartbreak. I leaned against the bar with my drink and let the music wash over me. Nu metal had always been my favorite, and I hadn’t heard any decent bands from the genre in years.

  “So, Taylor,” my suitor said, finally acknowledging my presence after he’d drained one rum and coke and ordered a second, “Why did you move to New York?” He had leaned close, his breath ruffling my hair as he spoke in my ear.

  “I’m here for my brother’s wedding,” I answered, resting an elbow behind me on the bar. The movement made the surplus top of my dress gape open, and I fought the urge to cover myself, trying to look like the confident sort of woman who wore this kind of dress all the time. “I’m not sure if I’ll stay. I have some…business out of state coming up in a couple of months.”