Losing Enough

by Helen Boswell

  I hope we’re not dancing. I don’t feel like doing anything except for going home to my apartment and crashing.

  Wait. I’m on vacation. I can’t go home.

  He trails around the perimeter of the room until the walls transform into heavy, dark curtains. My feet continue to follow him as he slips through a gap in one of them. I blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the lighting. We’re in a hallway that branches in two different directions. There are doors on either side of us. What look like offices or storerooms. I stand back and watch as he tries the doors, but they’re locked.

  We’re all alone, and I know what he wants. I’m not a rookie. I’ve hooked up with guys before, and on another night I might have wanted something like this. Maybe. But I can’t do this the way I’m feeling right now.

  “I want to go back out front,” I say, my head seriously pounding. He advances on me, and my heart freaks out like a bird’s trapped inside my chest and trying to get free.

  He presses me up against the wall. He smirks.

  “I don’t bite. We were having a good time before. Just chill and keep having a good time, yeah?”

  I shake my head no, but he forces his mouth onto mine, his hands everywhere, yanking down the shoulders of my dress and roughly grabbing at my breasts. He’s a couple of inches taller than me, and his whole body presses against me, the bulge in his jeans hard. His body heat sears into me, the only thing I can feel. His hands grope under my dress and pull my panties down. The sound of my pulse hammering in my ears is the only thing I can hear.

  The blood rushing through my body.

  Time rushing. Everything rushing.

  Except for me. I can’t move. Even though I know I don’t want to be here.

  “Wait,” I think I say, but he straightens again and presses his mouth against mine, and the word never hits the air.

  I feel him shift away as he fumbles with his belt buckle and undoes the fly of his jeans. He grabs my arms and shoves me back against the wall.

  “You want it as bad as I do?” he grunts. I can feel his erection grind against me, and my stomach turns.

  No. No, I don’t. Let me go.

  But I’m pinned and can’t move, and my throat is so dry I can’t speak. I squeeze my eyes shut, hold my breath, my heart beating way too fast. I open my mouth to call for help, but nothing comes out.

  “Alex? Holy shit… Hey asshole, get the fuck off of her!”

  My eyes fly open, and I see Tucker advancing on us from the curtain opening with fury in his expression. I’m suddenly not pinned to the wall anymore, and I stumble forward. Nausea rips through me, turns me inside out. Tucker rushes forward and grabs my arm, and surfer boy backs away.

  “Dude, it’s not what it looks like.”

  “Really.” Tucker peers down at me, his eyes fixing on where one of my boobs is practically spilling out of my dress. He lets go of my arm and advances on surfer boy, all anger and testosterone. “Looks pretty fucking clear to me.”

  My equilibrium is off, but I manage to pull down on the hem of my dress. Cross my arms over my chest. See my panties on the floor and say to hell with them.

  Somehow I make my legs move. Somehow I walk out of there, my heart still going at a million beats a minute as I pass through the curtain. I shuffle through the room to the main part of the bar, and I see Elle there with her tray.

  A wave of nausea rides through me again, and I wobble on my feet. But I keep pushing my legs and stagger toward her, my whole body shaking. She’s frowning and talking to some guy, but she looks up abruptly, a mixture of surprise and relief on her face when she sees me. And then horror.

  “Alex!” She drops her tray, her tiny but strong hands clasping my arms as I stumble. “What’s wrong? Girl, what happened?”

  “Elle,” I moan. It’s the only thing I can say. I feel like I’m trying to speak through water, my shakes getting worse. I sag against her, the tears springing to my eyes.

  “Connor!” Elle grabs me tight and yells past me. “Help me get her outside!”

  The guy she’d been talking to doesn’t move, his expression looking annoyed. Elle starts shouting at him again, and he yanks on my arm and pulls me away from her right as I taste the bile in my throat. I grab my stomach and double over, throwing up everything I had to drink.

  I hardly have time to register that I know him from somewhere. The bar – messy, dark wavy hair, illegally gorgeous blue eyes, anti-Prince Charming himself.

  4

  Connor

  I should have taken off when Elle left the table, and now I’m stuck in her mess. Literally a fucking mess. Elle wants me to meet with Cruz, says she’ll come with us like we need to be chaperoned. We stand by the bar and keep arguing back and forth about it. If it was anyone else but Elle, I’d walk away.

  Her whacked-out friend stumbles over in the middle of everything, and Elle screams at me to help her. Right before the redhead pukes out her guts.

  The redhead. The same one as at the bar, the one I’d seen on the dance floor. I’m holding her arm over my shoulder to support her and cursing Elle out in my head.

  “Lemme go.”

  I ignore Red’s slurred protest as I wind her arm over my shoulders and hoist her up, careful not to get any of that shit she’d just thrown up on my clothes. But it looks like it all made it onto the floor. Not envious of the employees here for having to clean up that one.

  A guy named Will is working the front door tonight, and he steps over when he sees me hauling the redhead to the door. As far as the staff go at this club, he’s one of the few decent ones. Elle tails me with a cup of water she grabbed at the bar, yelling at me to be careful. For hell’s sake. She’s damned lucky I’m doing this at all. And if the redhead pukes again… I shake my head and dump her onto one of the benches outside. Elle flies past me to catch her before she slumps over.

  “Jeez, Connor. Have a little care,” Elle snaps.

  She sits down next to her friend and murmurs something as she brings the water up to her lips. I give Elle a stony look before glancing at my watch.

  “Need me to call a cab for her?” Will looks like he’s keeping his distance from her too, his expression impassive.

  Elle shakes her head as he reaches for his phone. “No! I want to make sure that she actually gets back to her hotel room. I’m off in forty-five minutes…” She looks up at Will and pleads, “Can she hang out here with you while I wrap up?”

  “Won’t be able to babysit her, Elle. I got my job to do, too.” Will looks at her, his forehead creasing with doubt.

  The redhead’s head lolls back as she mumbles, “I’ll take a cab. I’ll be okay.”

  I nod. Perfect. I have just over a half hour to get to the airport, and I start toward the parking lot, more than satisfied with the resolution. “See ya, Elle. Will.”

  “Connor! Wait.” Elle’s voice is bordering on authoritative, and I bristle. She whispers something else in her friend’s ear, then calls out to me, “She’s staying on the Strip. It’s not far – you can take her.”

  “Sorry, cuz.” I turn but keep backing away, lifting my arms by my sides. “You and Will aren’t the only ones who have to get back to work.”

  She jumps up and stalks over to me with a furious expression on her face. “I can’t dump her into a cab,” she hisses. “And I doubt a driver would even take her like this.”

  “Not my problem.” I don’t want the redhead in my car either. Being late for clients with anxiety disorders – I’m convinced they all have them to some extent – is bad for business.

  Elle’s face flushes, and she says through her teeth, “If you do this for me, I’ll owe you.”

  Elle’s tenacious, and something about her equal unwillingness to stop harping on me about her friend gives me pause. Owe me? Elle knows I don’t hold things over people’s heads like that. This girl means that much to her? I give Red a second look. She’s sitting with her elbows braced on her knees, and she slowly raises her head, her eyes meeting mine
before she drops her forehead back down into her hands.

  There’s something in her gaze that stirs up a long-ago memory. Not a good memory.

  I walk over to her and kneel down, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up. Some of her hair is plastered to her forehead with sweat, her eyes averted. “Look at me,” I say firmly.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Elle is next to me in a flash, but I push her away as her black nails grab at my arm.

  “Look at me,” I repeat, ignoring Elle.

  Red’s gaze slowly rises to meet mine, and I stare at them. Her pupils are blown, a small ring of cocoa brown showing around the edges. Shit.

  I stand up, all of my instincts shouting at me to walk the fuck away.

  “She’s high.”

  Elle’s whole body tenses up, and she starts in on me again. “Whatever. So she had a little too much to drink. Like you’ve never –”

  I turn on her, my patience finally at its limit. “No. Look at her eyes. She’s either tripping out on E, coke, something…”

  Red attempts to sit up tall, her shivering worse as she glares at me. “I don’t do that stuff.”

  “…or someone dropped some shit into her drink,” I finish.

  Elle stares at me with wide eyes before diving down into a crouch next to Red. “Hun, what happened with you and that guy after the challenge?” Her expression hardens as the redhead mumbles something back. Elle lifts her head to look at me, her expression full of agony. “Omigod. This wasn’t her fault. You have to take her to her hotel. C’mon, Connor. Please. Make up for the past.”

  “My purse,” Red suddenly moans. “I think I left it in the back room.”

  “I’ll look for it. Stay here with her,” Elle shoots in my direction with a pointed look before she runs back into the bar.

  I don’t answer because I’m fuming, my hands fists by my sides. Make up for the past? Low blow, cousin.

  My better judgment is still telling me to walk away. Walk away right now. But Elle’s words make me think about things I don’t want to think about, the same things as when I saw Red on the dance floor with that guy who kept advancing on her.

  Cruz and Laura. All over again.

  Overshadowing my anger is guilt, and it claws at my conscience. I stare at the girl on the bench and think about the seconds ticking, the fact that I have to be at the airport. I fight the urge to punch something. Because I know I can’t leave Red sitting here drugged up like this. It’s like Elle guessed what I’d see, knew I wouldn’t be able to walk away, and I hate her a little for that.

  Elle runs back out a minute or two later with Red’s purse. She stands and faces me, worry lining her eyes.

  “Fine,” I snap. “I’ll take her to the hotel.”

  A flicker of relief crosses her face. “Good. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll do lunch and come up with a game plan.”

  “Don’t push it,” I growl.

  Elle grumbles something about how you can’t choose family, her cue for me to respond with another cynical comment like I always do when we argue back and forth, but I don’t jump in this time. I don’t answer her, don’t say goodbye, just haul Red off the bench and drag her to my car.

  I pause to look down at her before disengaging the Audi’s alarm system.

  “Listen, Red. Show any signs that you’re about to puke again, and I’m kicking you out of the car, got it?”

  She wobbles on her feet but lifts her chin and looks me in the eye.

  “My name’s Alex,” she mutters. “And don’t worry, Prince Charming. I won’t puke in your precious car.”

  I frown as I drive back to the Strip. For some reason, this had to happen tonight, right after I got the news about Cruz. Fuck my luck.

  Alex leans her head back on the headrest, her eyes closed. She looks young, though she’s obviously at least twenty-one to have been in the bar, unless she used a fake I.D. to get in. I noticed it before when I was watching her, but she has a pretty face – it’s pale right now, but with high cheekbones and perfectly curved lips, dark eyelashes, dark red hair.

  I’d bet the fact that she puked actually helped get most of the shit out of her system, which means she’ll probably be okay.

  If only Laura had been so lucky.

  I briefly close my eyes after braking at a stoplight. This isn’t déjà vu; it’s more like some sick form of karma spearing me in the guts and refusing to release me from the past. Alex is a stranger, but what happened to her tonight, the thought of what could have happened to her, brings back pain. Pain that I don’t want to remember.

  Too late.

  Alex’s head tips back as I accelerate on the green light, and I give her a sharp glance. I don’t want her to pass out, should talk to her to keep her awake.

  “Hey.” I reach over and jostle her shoulder. “You okay? Do you remember your name?”

  She turns her head to face me. I think I see some emotion register in her eyes – anger, or fear. Something strong, but it’s gone in an instant.

  “Don’t shake me,” she mumbles. “Yeah, I remember my name. You remember yours?”

  Funny. “It’s Connor. Connor Vincent.”

  She snorts. “Parents couldn’t decide on one first name, huh?”

  I raise my eyebrows. Still has an attitude even though she’s messed up. “Vincent’s my last name, wiseass. Didn’t really have a choice in that, did I?”

  I quash the fleeting thought in my head, the fact that I did have a choice, that I could have picked any last name when I moved out here. Vincent is Elle’s middle name – a family name passed down to her from her mom – and I chose it for mine because it gave me a connection to her.

  Alex doesn’t respond, just rubs her eyes, and I wager with one hundred percent certainty that she’s going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow. I pull up to one of the service entrances, watching her with growing impatience as she fumbles with her seatbelt before finally reaching over and undoing it for her.

  “Got your hotel key? You know your room number?”

  Her eyes flick down to my hand, and I realize I’m still holding onto the seatbelt. I release it and pull away.

  “I’m not an idiot,” she grumbles. Her eyes are still bloodshot but maybe a hair better than they were.

  “I never said you were. Though you gotta admit, you were stupid enough to take multiple drinks from a stranger even after you were probably already feeling like hell.”

  She makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh. “You sure have a way with words.”

  “So do you know your room number or not?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not gonna tell it to you,” she shoots back. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” I look past her and spot a staff member I know fairly well, a guy named Jordan who works as concierge. He’s outside smoking a cancer stick, and I lower Alex’s window and shout over to him.

  “Hey, Jordan, can you help me out?”

  He flicks ash from the end of his cigarette and saunters over. “Sure thing, Connor.” His eyes fix on Alex, his eyebrows immediately knitting together in a frown. “Oh. Hey, man. I don’t know…”

  I grit my teeth and grab my wallet, rethinking the whole “owing” thing between Elle and me. I reach over Alex, holding out a fifty like bait to Jordan, and he automatically extends his hand to take it, like I knew he would. Throw in money, and you can always find someone to do you a favor in this city. You just have to know how much to throw.

  “Make sure she gets to her room safely,” I bark out.

  He pockets the bill smoothly. “Of course. You have my word.”

  I nod, knowing at the very least that he’ll be able to use the service elevator and be discreet about it. He opens Alex’s door and steps back to let her out, but I catch her wrist before she can move.

  “Hey. You know you’re lucky, right? If you hadn’t puked out most of that shit, or if that guy you were with laced your drink with something like GHB, we would not be here right now. I’d be dr
opping your ass off at the E.R.”

  She looks at me, her pupils still slightly dilated but almost normal again. Her gaze is warm, and it burns into me.

  “I get it. See ya around, Connor Vincent.”

  I stare at those lush lips as they form the words, as they say the name that’s not really mine.

  Yeah, I remember my name. You remember yours?

  I have exactly nineteen minutes to get to the airport now, and she’s nothing more than an inconvenience, something standing in the way of where I need to be. There’s no way I’ll be able to walk her upstairs and still be at the airport on time.

  Then why the fuck do I want to?

  I watch Alex follow Jordan, not realizing I’m still staring until they get to the service door. Jordan opens the door to let her through, and he places his hand on her back to guide her. Right before they go in, I see his hand drop down to her ass.

  My hands clench around the steering wheel, my knuckles white. I have to go. I wasted precious time babbling, and now I’m staring after Alex like an idiot dropping off a date. What’s gotten into me? I throw the car into drive and take off, fighting the urge to look in the rearview mirror even though I know they went inside.

  Trying not to think about Jordan copping a feel. Trying not to think about Cruz and Laura. Failing miserably. The ghosts from my past are haunting me too strongly right now for me to ignore.

  I run my hand over my face. “You’re going out of your mind, Connor,” I mutter. And now I’m talking to myself.

  I briefly consider calling my business partner to cover me but immediately nix that thought. The client I’m supposed to pick up at the airport tonight isn’t just anyone. It’s Maya Coplin. Maya was my very first client. She got me the start in this business, and she’s the reason I have the good rep that I do. She’d pitch a fit if anyone else but me picked her up from the airport. I cannot be late for Maya.

  I check the flight information on my phone in case there’s a change in status. Meant to check back at the bar but didn’t have the chance.