by E. M. Abel
I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. God, I want to believe him.
I wanted to believe he still loved me and that all of it was just a big misunderstanding. But I couldn’t. The blinders had been removed from my eyes, and now that I’d seen the truth, I couldn’t go back, no matter how hard I wanted to try.
I put my toothbrush in my mouth and scrubbed my teeth. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I slowly lifted my gaze to the mirror. I had to find the courage to face my mistakes, and the sooner I did it, the better.
When I finished brushing my teeth, I began rinsing my mouth when my cell phone started ringing in the bedroom. I spit the water out and went to answer it. It was Derek.
“What, Derek?”
“Where are you? I just tried calling the house, and you didn’t answer.”
I could hear the accusation in his tone, and it pissed me off. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean, don’t worry about it? You’re my fucking wife, Penelope.” He had lowered his voice, so no one could hear him.
God forbid they find out Major Baylor had lost control of his wife.
I let out a sarcastic laugh before hanging up the phone.
Derek was trying so hard to turn the tables on me. It was my fault he’d cheated. It was my fault our marriage was falling apart. And, now, I couldn’t be trusted.
Maybe he was right.
Two hours later, Tiffany and I were standing outside of Induce, waiting in line. I had my arms folded tightly in front of me since she’d insisted we leave our coats at home. Apparently, it was more attractive to stand in the cold, shivering, as our teeth chattered.
I had some serious steam to blow off.
After my phone call from Derek, I’d decided to go all out. If he was going to blame me for our failed marriage, I might as well give him a reason to. I was wearing a pair of tight black jeans, my favorite red heels, a very effective push-up bra, and a white tank top. It was simple but sexy. I tried to appear like I’d made less of an effort than I actually had. I had curled and teased my long blonde hair before pulling it back into a high ponytail and putting on some makeup, including bright red lipstick to match my shoes. I’d also taken off my wedding ring. Perhaps a little revenge was exactly what I needed.
Once we got closer to the front, I noticed the doorman staring at us—well, mostly at Tiffany. She was wearing a very short dress and carried herself in a way that dared you not to look. She’d already made friends with the couple behind us.
“Finally!” she said, smiling when we made it to the door.
The big bald guy checking IDs grinned as he took hers. He glanced at me as he handed it back to her. Stepping back, he made room for us to go inside.
“Don’t you have to check hers?” Tiffany asked as she stuck her ID back in her tiny purse.
He shook his head. “No, she’s good.”
Great. Just the self-esteem boost I needed.
“Oh, cool,” she said.
We both walked inside.
“I can’t wait until they stop checking my ID, too. It’s such a hassle.” She walked past me to lead the way to the bar.
I rolled my eyes. By looking at her, I’d guess Tiffany was in her early twenties, but it was hard to tell for sure. She still acted like she was eighteen.
After we squeezed our way through the crowd, Tiffany was able to slip between two girls and get to the bar. I was right behind her, getting squished by sweaty bodies.
“There he is!” she shouted over the loud music.
I craned my neck and tried to follow her line of sight, but it was impossible to see over the tall guy next to us.
“Brandon!” She waved her hand and smiled at someone behind the bar. “He’s coming,” she told me excitedly.
I started feeling nervous. I wasn’t sure why. Brandon was just a bartender and a drug dealer. It wasn’t like I was there to impress him. I just needed him to trust me enough to sell me weed. I tried to relax and look casual as Tiffany intently watched him. Whoever he was, he definitely held her attention.
Someone pushed me from behind, and when I turned to see who it was, a guy looked down at me and lifted his hand in apology.
Jesus, why did I come here? They’re all kids. I look like an old lady trying to be cool.
Turning back around, I opened my mouth, prepared to tell Tiffany that I was going to leave, when I was met by crystal-blue eyes. My mouth snapped shut, but I couldn’t look away, and he didn’t either.
“Brandon, this is Penelope, the girl I told you about.”
He grinned, and the movement snapped me out of my trance. My eyes darted to his arms that were propped up against the bar. His seriously toned muscles were covered in tattoos. I quickly diverted my gaze back to his and noticed his neck and chest were covered in ink, too. He was wearing a black tank top that showcased that fact.
“Nice to meet you, Penelope.” His voice set off a vibration in my gut.
Brandon had a full brown beard, but it couldn’t hide the cocky smirk playing on his lips. I straightened my back and tried to regain some sort of control. I might be completely out of my comfort zone, but I didn’t want him to know that.
“Yeah, you, too.”
“So, what do you ladies want to drink?”
“Vodka?” Tiffany asked me, raising an eyebrow.
I nodded. “Vodka on the rocks, please,” I said a little louder so that Brandon could hear me.
He lifted his chin before pushing off the bar and wiping his hands on the towel he had hanging out of his back pocket. He turned around and got the vodka from the shelf behind him. His shoulders were broad, and I watched the lats on his back flex as he made my drink.
Brandon clearly spent a lot of time at the gym and the tattoo parlor. Besides his face, it was hard to find an inch of skin that wasn’t covered in ink. He was wearing all black and even had a pair of black boots on his feet. His dirty-blond hair was in a popular undercut style, long on top but super short on the sides. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his mid twenties. I watched him pour the vodka into two glasses, and I quickly looked away when he began to turn around.
“Two vodkas!” he shouted over the noise as he pushed the glasses toward us.
Tiffany gave him a seductive look as she took hers.
I glanced down at his hand. The word LOVE was tattooed across his fingers.
“Thanks,” I said, but I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me.
He just tapped the bar with his hand and got back to work.
Lifting the glass to my mouth, I grinned before taking a sip. I was being ridiculous. I wasn’t even on that guy’s radar, and he shouldn’t have been on mine either. The last thing I needed was another complication added to the pile of shit my life had become.
I stood there, sipping my drink, as I watched the people around me. It had been years since I’d been out to a club, and I was beginning to remember why.
Bodies were grinding against each other on the dance floor. Men were eagerly ogling women as they walked by, and the women welcomed it, encouraged it really. This was a place for single young people looking for a good time, not scorned housewives.
Downing the rest of my drink, I set the empty glass on the bar next to Tiffany.
“Ready for another one?”
I shook my head. “No, I think I’m gonna go now.”
Her mouth fell open as her forehead wrinkled. “What? No! You can’t leave already. We just got here.”
“I came here, so you could introduce us. You did. Now, I can go.”
“Oh, come on! That’s not the only reason we went out. We’re here to get drunk and have a good time, remember? This is our fuck-you to Derek! Fuck you, Derek!” she shouted before draining her glass and slamming it down on the bar. “Brandon, we need two more!”
Tiffany smiled at me, and I felt a sting of guilt for being such a bitch to her. She was just trying to help cheer me up, and as sad as it was, she was my only friend.
“F
ine, but we need to find some seats. I’m tired of standing in these heels.”
“Deal,” she said as she began scanning the room for a spot.
We’d never find seats in this crowd.
A few minutes later, Brandon appeared with two more drinks. He glanced at Tiffany, who was still trying to fuck him with her eyes.
“You ladies having a good time?”
I shrugged. “Trying to.”
He looked at me, and in that moment, I instantly understood Tiffany’s attraction to him. He had trouble and seduction in his eyes, and when they were aimed at you, it was hard not to fall victim to both. I could see just enough truth in his stare to make me curious, but it was obvious he kept it well hidden. Being charming and flirtatious was a part of his job.
“How do we get seats around here?” Tiffany asked, taking Brandon’s attention.
He pointed toward the stage across the room where women were currently dancing around poles. “You could sit on the stage,” he said with a smirk.
Tiffany laughed a little too hard and shook her head. It must have been an inside joke that I didn’t get.
“Or you could ask a couple of guys to share a table,” he said, glancing at me again. “I’m sure they’d be more than happy to.”
Tiffany peeked at me over her shoulder and gave me a questioning look. “What do you think? We might even get some free drinks out of it.”
I nodded, not wanting to come off like the uptight old lady this place had turned me into.
“I’ll tell you what. I get off in a couple of hours. If you stick around, we can head over to my place for a real party,” Brandon said as his gaze locked on mine.
“Sounds good to me!” Tiffany shouted a little too eagerly.
She was acting like a teenage fangirl.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said with another shrug.
Brandon’s eyes studied my face, like I’d presented a challenge and he was wondering if I was worth the effort. He didn’t respond though. He just tapped the bar again and got back to work.
A couple of hours later, Tiffany and I were standing outside while she argued with Brian on the phone.
“What’s the big deal? I just went out for a few drinks!” she shouted as her arm flew out, almost hitting a guy as he walked by. “Oh my God, Brian. Seriously? You go out with your friends all the time! Yeah, well, I’m not drunk enough. Whatever. Fine! Whatever! I’ll go, okay? Are you happy?” She paused and shot a glare in my direction. “Fuck off,” she muttered before hanging up on him.
“Ugh! God, I hate him sometimes!” she groaned as she stuck her phone back in her small purse. “I have to go. Brian is acting like a jealous asshole.”
I couldn’t say I blamed him. Tiffany had been flirting shamelessly. She’d even been sitting on some guy’s lap when he’d called.
“You want to share a cab again?” She held her hand out and looked up and down the street for one.
“I thought you’d left.”
We both turned around to see Brandon standing there with a black peacoat on, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth, and a half-naked woman holding on to his arm. She looked me up and down as I did the same to her.
“You coming?” he asked, tilting his head toward the end of the street.
“I can’t. I have to go,” Tiffany said, pouting, as a cab pulled up next to her.
Brandon lit his cigarette, his eyebrows furrowing as the flame illuminated his face. After taking a drag, he lifted his chin and blew out the smoke. “What about you?” he asked, his blue eyes focusing on mine.
I looked at Tiffany.
She pursed her lips and tilted her head, almost to say, I guess you can go.
I knew she’d be jealous if I went, but I had a strong buzz going from the alcohol, and I wasn’t ready to call it a night just yet. I wanted to do something stupid and maybe get into some trouble.
“Sure. I’ll go.”
I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he grinned and said, “Cool. See you later, Tiff.”
She hesitantly got into the cab, and I waved to her as she shut the door.
“I’m starving. Let’s go get some food,” Brandon said, putting his free arm out for me.
I took a step closer and held his gaze before finally looping my arm through his. He winked at me as we started walking. I felt a different kind of buzz coursing through me as I held on to his strong arm, the wool of his coat scratching my bare skin. He smelled like cinnamon, spice, cigarettes, and man. I wasn’t sure how else to describe it, but it was intoxicating.
“I live a few blocks down. We can stop and grab a bite on the way.”
With the way some guys smoking on the sidewalk were staring at us as we walked past, I almost felt like a hooker on her pimp’s arm. I was sure Brandon’s ego was soaring, but if it was, he wasn’t making it obvious. He was acting like walking home with a woman on each arm was an everyday thing for him. Shit, maybe it was.
We stopped at a small Chinese restaurant, and Brandon bought enough food for the three of us. He introduced me to his friend, Destiny, but she didn’t speak much. I thought she was as high as a kite. Her eyes were so dilated that they looked black.
She was beautiful though, like supermodel beautiful. She had long black hair and flawless bronze skin. Together, they looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine or in a Calvin Klein ad.
I probably would have felt more awkward if I wasn’t drunk, but since I was, I didn’t give our situation too much thought. I was enjoying the thrill of something new.
It wasn’t until we got inside Brandon’s apartment that I realized how cold I was. The warm air hit me as I walked in, and my body relaxed from the comfort of it.
His place was nicer inside than I’d expected, and it smelled just like him. It was modern and minimalistic with just a few pieces of furniture and shiny hardwood floors. It was clean, and the few things he did have looked sophisticated and expensive.
Brandon pulled off his coat and hung it on a hook beside his door. His skin and the fluidity of his movements mesmerized me. He wasn’t anything like I had anticipated.
“Please, take a seat,” he said, motioning toward the couch where Destiny was already sitting.
Rubbing my cold hands over my arms, I glanced at the black couch and back at Brandon. Standing in front of his entertainment center, he pressed a few buttons on his phone before music started playing from speakers mounted around the room. I didn’t recognize the song, but it sounded like The Doors.
I sat down on the couch, leaving some space between Destiny and me, as Brandon went to the kitchen and began putting some Chinese food on a plate. Destiny leaned toward the wooden coffee table in front of us and pulled open a drawer. Inside, I saw what looked like a few ounces of weed in a Ziploc bag. She set it on top of the table, pulled some buds out, and started breaking them up.
“So, how long have you known Tiffany?” Brandon’s deep voice broke into my focus.
I tore my gaze from Destiny’s delicate fingers. “Not long.”
He walked toward us with plates in his hands and set them down on the coffee table before straightening his back. “Really? She told me you’ve known each other since high school.”
My eyebrows furrowed, and I lifted my gaze to meet his. His blue eyes were speculatively studying my face before he sat down in the leather chair across from us.
Shit. Tiffany must have told him that, so he’d trust me, but it was too late for me to take it back now.
He picked up a plate and collected rice onto his fork. My eyes stayed glued on his lips as he took a bite. I found myself intrigued by my attraction to Brandon. I’d never been into guys with tattoos and beards, but there was something to be said for the air of masculinity he carried. His beard added a level of mystery to his appearance. It also emphasized the expression and intensity in his eyes. I was curious what he’d look like without it.
“You married?” he asked, glancing at my bare left hand.
I’d tak
en my wedding ring off, but the tan line and indentions it’d left were still visible. I ran my thumb over the smooth skin on my ring finger, wondering if it’d ever look the same again, as I nodded.
My chest filled with air as I sucked in a breath. Just as I felt my conscience begin to awaken, Destiny lit the joint she’d rolled. I felt Brandon’s eyes on me as he ate, but he didn’t say anything, and I was too ashamed to meet his gaze. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I wanted to, and that was enough. I needed to numb my guilt before it got to be too much.
After taking a couple of hits from the joint, Destiny passed it to me, and I took a long drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs. I blew it out, and Brandon’s eyes met mine through the haze.
“You like it?”
I nodded before taking another hit and passing it to him. “Thanks.”
His skin connected with mine, and I read the word FEAR tattooed on his fingers as he took the joint.
Love and fear.
I’d expected hate.
“Is your husband in the military?” He blew out smoke.
I nodded, wishing he’d change the subject.
“Marine?”
I nodded again.
“It’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Destiny and I aren’t the judgmental type,” he said, grinning at Destiny, as he passed her the joint.
I figured they must be a couple, but I couldn’t figure out why Destiny was okay with her boyfriend inviting other women to his apartment to party. Maybe they were in an open relationship.
“So, what does your man think about you being here?”
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” I answered frankly.
There was really no reason to lie. I didn’t know this guy, and I didn’t need his approval. I just wanted his weed.
Brandon glanced at Destiny before his lips curved into a seductive smile. “Really? I didn’t peg you for the rebellious type,” he said, challenge apparent in his tone.
I raised an eyebrow. “And I didn’t realize you were so nosy.”
He chuckled and then licked his lips as he leaned back in his chair and put his elbows on the armrests beside him. His blond hair covered part of his face, making him seem even more obscure, as his stare grew more intrusive. I instinctively folded my arms on my lap, trying to hide.
