by M. Malone
“Perhaps I’ll do that. Although I’m not sure exactly what it is young people do for fun these days, either.”
When we pull up to the hotel where the event is taking place, Mamma looks over just as the valet opens her door. “Well, I’m not sure what’s in fashion these days but I’m pretty sure figuring it out is half the fun.”
Mamma’s words stay with me all through the night and after I take her back to her hotel. She’s uncharacteristically quiet once we reach her suite, and leaves me with an absent kiss to my cheek before retiring to her room.
I stand there for a moment, unsure where to go. Now that I’ve done my duty for the night, I find myself at a loss. As I ride the elevator back down to the lobby, I ponder an entire night to do whatever I want. No thoughts of work and no one to answer to. The freedom is almost daunting.
The doorman tips his hat as I pass and I respond to a friendly hello from one of the valets outside. I give the one closest to me my ticket so he can bring my car around and then my attention lands on the other. He’s a young man but old enough for what I need. Probably still in college considering that he doesn’t look as though he’s fully grown into his large hands and feet. His eyebrows lift as I walk closer.
“Good evening. I want to go out. On the town. To have fun.” I force myself to stop talking, embarrassed by my own rambling.
The young man takes it in stride. Especially when I slide over a few twenties. He pockets the money and then points down the block. “There’s a nightclub called Hysteria three streets over that’s pretty popular. It’s the place to be. Difficult to get into but worth it from what I hear.”
I shake my head, already sure another exclusive club filled with rich people trying to impress each other is not what I want.
“No clubs. I don’t want a popular place with a VIP lounge. I want to experience some real American fun. Something normal. Where would you go if you had the night off?”
He looks skeptical but nods his head in the other direction. “It’s not that close, it’s in Adams Morgan. A bar called Hammered. They have the best happy hour and every Friday it’s half-priced wings. All night.”
“Excellent. That’s where I’ll go.”
My enthusiasm seems to surprise him but he quickly recovers. “It’s a really fun place. They have pool and darts, too. But you can’t go like that.” He gestures to my suit. “It’s … not a dressy type of place.”
I clap him on the back. “Oh, don’t worry. I have just the thing to wear.”
The other valet pulls up then with my car and I tip him also. Now that I have a plan, I’m excited to get back to my room and start getting ready.
For someone who wears as many high-end fashions as I do, it’s a little strange that I’m so excited to put on an outfit that costs less than the belt I’m currently wearing. But there’s no denying that I am excited. Despite how high profile my life is, most of what I do is pretty repetitive. The same restaurants, the same exclusive parties, the same people kissing my ass.
But tonight is an unknown. I have no idea who I’ll meet, what we’ll do or how the night will end. All I know is that right now, the possibilities are endless. That excitement stays with me as I dress in another T-shirt and the same jeans, opting to omit the baseball cap this time.
Hammered is nestled between a barbecue eatery with a huge sign shaped like a pig and a music store. As I exit the cab, I’m enveloped in a crowd of people walking along the sidewalk and chattering excitedly. Luckily they’re going the same way I wanted to go.
I step into the slightly dim interior and take a moment to take it all in. There are several televisions hanging over the bar broadcasting a football game. I’ve never followed American football so I don’t know the teams but when everyone in the bar lets out a rousing cheer, I find myself caught up in the excitement as well. A place opens up at the bar and I take a stool at the end.
“What’ll ya have?” The bartender is dressed similarly, in jeans and a black shirt except his has the name of the bar on the breast pocket.
“I don’t suppose you can do a Campari soda?” The look on his face tells me all I need to know. “Never mind. A beer, whatever you recommend is fine.”
I look around casually, taking in the general atmosphere and the people milling around in groups chatting. It’s been years since I’ve been to a place like this. After university, Philippe and I used to enjoy going out with Jason who has radar for the hippest and hottest new nightspots.
When did things change? When did we stop having fun?
The bartender slides a beer down to me and I’m pleasantly surprised when I try it. He chuckles at the look on my face.
“It’s our new summer ale. The owner brews it himself. It’s probably not the fancy stuff you’re used to but…”
I lean over the bar. “Fancy? What makes you think I’m used to fancy stuff?”
His eyebrow lifts. “Dude, you’re wearing a Rolex in a bar.”
As he leaves to tend to his other customers, I take my watch off and put it in my pocket. It’s kind of funny. With all the work I put in to crafting a normal outfit, I completely missed the details. Maybe I should have called for backup.
I pull out my phone and dial Jason. He answers absently and slightly out of breath. The sounds of traffic filter though the line.
“Hey, are you busy right now?”
“Always busy,” he responds automatically. “Why, what’s up? We didn’t have a meeting tonight did we?”
“No. The opposite, I’m attempting to relax. I could use some help.”
He laughs. “Oh wow. First you leave early. Now you’re actually going out. This I have to see. Wingman on the way.”
Twenty minutes after I text him the name of the bar, he walks in still wearing a suit. He does a double take when he sees me.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else. You remind me of my friend, Andre. But he would never be caught dead in cotton with anything less than 800 thread count.”
I finger the T-shirt. “Maybe I’m trying something different.”
“Philippe told me about your little experiment. I’m all for it.”
“You are?” I ask, instantly suspicious.
He loves to tease me about being uptight but Jason has standards that are just as high as I do. I’m pretty sure he’d be physically ill if he couldn’t eat at Michelin starred restaurants and have VIP access everywhere. He grew up poor and has resolved never to return to that life.
“Hell, yeah. Anything that gets you laid is a good idea.” His eyes narrow. “So first, you probably should loosen up a bit. Lose the frown. No, don’t smile like a clown just look relaxed. Like you’re just hanging out.”
I try out another expression but he still looks alarmed so I give up. “Let’s just accept that this is my resting expression.”
He blows out a breath. “Okay, so when you see a hot girl, don’t talk about work, obviously. Ask her about herself, her job and whether she likes what she does. Chicks love that shit.”
This seems like common sense to me so perhaps I’m worrying for nothing.
“Oh but make sure she knows you have a job. Tell her you own a company just not which one. You don’t want her to think you’re a loser.” He points at my shirt. “Maybe this is a bad idea. These clothes are like pussy repellant.”
I take another swig of beer. “I can’t talk about work but somehow I need her to know that I own my company. This is getting complicated.”
Behind Jason’s head, I see a swing of brown hair that looks familiar. I peer over his shoulder and then stand so I can see better.
The beautiful girl that threw her coffee on me yesterday morning is standing in the middle of the bar. The too-tight shirt is gone and instead she’s wearing skin tight jeans and a halter that shows off her shoulders and the sweet curve of her perky little breasts.
“Clumsy Girl. She’s here,” I whisper.
“Who?” Jason pauses with a beer halfway to his mouth.
She’s walking toward us now. I whip around. The bar has filled up since I’ve been here and there are no more empty stools.
“You have to leave. Go, now!” I shove him off the stool right before she gets close. I barely hear Jason’s muttered curse over the sound of my heart pounding.
She looks at the empty stool next to me and then around at the crowded bar.
That’s right, beautiful. There are no other options.
“Is anyone sitting here?” she asks.
“No. Please, have a seat.”
She climbs up and then places her small bag in her lap. When she looks over at me, I quickly look away.
“Hey, do I know you?”
I laugh softly. “Maybe if you bump into me and spill beer all over my shirt you’d remember.”
Recognition lights her eyes and she smiles. “I knew you looked familiar. This is such an odd coincidence. But maybe this is a good sign for me. I think you’re my lucky charm.”
“Have I brought you luck, then?” I take the opportunity to stare at her and drink in my fill.
She’s the kind of pretty that many people overlook. Brown hair and eyes but she has small, delicate features that give her an almost elvish appearance. Her lashes frame her eyes and give her a sexy, slumberous look despite how young she is. Like a good girl just waiting to go bad.
She shrugs but her cheeks flush pink at my close scrutiny. “When I met you yesterday–”
“You mean when you accosted me yesterday,” I interrupt.
Her lips purse as she glares at me. It’s so cute that it makes me want to annoy her just for the hell of it. That murderous expression on her innocent face is adorable. Like one of those tiny kittens that’s convinced it’s actually a fierce lion.
“Bumped into you. I accidentally bumped into you, and one could argue that you were at fault for just standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that.”
I pretend to think about it. “I’m willing to accept a tiny part of the blame but I still lost a shirt in the process.”
She winces. “Sorry about that. I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”
“No need. It was part of a three pack. Three shirts for the price of one. Fantastic.”
“Okay then.” She laughs. “Not sure I’ve ever met a guy so happy about a thrifty deal. But that’s a good thing. Nothing wrong with saving money.” She glances at my empty glass. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Shocked, I just stare at her for a second. “You want to buy me a drink?”
“Yes! I’m here celebrating and it’s bad luck to toast with an empty glass. Or so I’ve heard.”
There’s no way she can know how rare it is for other people to buy me anything. Especially women. I’m used to picking up the check for my entire group of friends whenever we go out and the women I’ve dated expect flowers, jewelry and expensive gifts.
My lips curl up at this unexpected turn of events.
“I would love for you to buy me a drink. But it’s probably best if I don’t take a drink from a stranger. Andre.” I hold out my hand.
She accepts it with a firm handshake. “I’m Casey. Nice to meet you. Again.”
6
She is enchanting.
After buying me a drink, she asks me how I like the city and we haven’t stopped talking since. It’s strange because I’ve never found it this easy to just chat to a woman before. Usually they want to know which celebrities I know and whether or not I can take them to the newest club or hottest nightspot. But Casey is just asking about me.
I’m drunk on her undivided attention.
“So, I suppose it’s a little late to be asking, but what are we celebrating?” I ask while taking another sip of beer. The brew really is good, light but complex. Not my usual thing but it seems fitting since this is my night for trying new things.
“Actually the day I met you, I was on my way to a job interview. That’s why I said you were a good luck charm. I got the job! Now, I’m here to check out whether I want to apply for a second job here. So seeing you is probably a good thing. Maybe it means I’ll get hired here, too.”
I raise my glass. “Well, let’s toast to your new job. Congratulations. I hope it’s the start of something great.”
“I hope it’s the start of something great, too. I could use some good news for a change. Tell me more about you. What do you do?”
Oh shit. My brain screeches to a halt.
This is what Jason warned me about. It’s time for a version of the truth that doesn’t hide anything but also doesn’t tell her the whole truth. Although the reason behind keeping my identity under wraps makes total sense, there’s a part of me that doesn’t like the idea of lying to her.
“I work in… retail. Selling men’s clothes.”
She looks slightly surprised at first but then gifts me with a small smile. “That must be fun.”
“It can be. It can also be really demoralizing. Not that I’m complaining. I have a great life.”
She covers my hand with hers and the warmth immediately envelopes me. “You’re not complaining just being honest. Nobody has a perfect life. We all have good things and bad things we’d love to change.”
Usually when people ask me about my life, my first response is to tell them what they want to hear. Yes, being the head of my own company is a dream come true. Being famous has given me amazing opportunities that many other young designers don’t have. But I never feel open to discuss the downsides. The immense pressure to always appear in control. The fatigue of working such long hours because I have everything on the line. And most of all, the emotional damage that comes from being in the public eye. From being judged and scrutinized every moment.
“Yes, that’s it exactly. I’m so grateful for the good things. And I love… clothes. So I’m truly happy with where I am.” I take another sip of beer. I almost told her I’m truly happy designing clothes. Talking with her feels so natural that I forgot to hold back.
“That’s exactly what I want. In my career, I mean. Clearly I’m not talking about clothes. I’m not so good with clothes.” She gestures vaguely to the halter top and jeans she’s wearing. Not that it makes sense to me because the soft swells of her breasts are doing things for the cheap cotton that nature never anticipated.
“You look great,” I shout over the rock song that is suddenly blasting from the nearby speakers. “Very comfortable.”
That makes her chuckle. “Just what every girl wants to hear. Although you can get away with saying that in your accent. You could probably say ‘hey you look like shit’ and it would sound elegant.”
Now I do laugh. “My family roots are French, Italian and some English that my mother refuses to admit to. But I’ve traveled so much in recent years that my accent has become a bit muddled.”
“What was that again?” She leans over to hear what I just said.
The bar has gotten so loud that she probably won’t be able to hear me even if I yell. Just then I’m aware of her breast pushing against my arm. I shift uncomfortably on the bar stool as my dick stirs, thickening behind the zipper of my jeans.
Fuck, I don’t want her to look down and catch sight of what’s happening below deck and think I’m some pervert. But it would take a saint not to react when she’s leaning so close and smells like a cupcake. I take a quick glance at her curvy little body perched on the stool next to mine.
Yeah, she’s a treat all right and if I had the opportunity, I’d take my time licking her up.
Our eyes meet and I still, caught in the act of blatantly checking her out. But she doesn’t seem upset. Her eyes hold mine boldly, darkened by desire. Considering how she argued with me when we first met, I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s so direct but watching her check me out is sending my testosterone levels through the roof. She bites her lip, rolling the flesh back and forth a few times before releasing it.
“The music has gotten really loud,” she yells. “Do you want to get out of here?”
My fingers clench
around my beer bottle. Did she just say… Then she leans forward and brushes her lips against mine. It’s not a long kiss or anything indecent but the moment our lips meet, I know I don’t want to spend even a second longer in this bar if she’s offering more.
I motion for the bartender so I can close out our tab, trying to keep my eyes away from her. With my blood rushing this fast through my veins, I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid or end up tossing her up on the bar to finish that kiss. People press closer on all sides and I feel a sudden urgency to get her out of here. I hand over a stack of bills to cover our drinks and then take her hand. It’s a fight to get through the crowd and outside but once we do, I take a deep breath. Casey looks up at me uncertainly. Is she having second thoughts?
“We could find another place. Maybe get some coffee or find a restaurant and get something to eat. Something to soak up all the drinks.”
She frowns. “Can I be honest?”
I move back out of the flow of traffic until we’re leaning up against the building. Ignoring my throbbing dick, I focus on her face. The thought of her being unhappy or unsure doesn’t sit well with me.
Casey follows closely, leaning into my side. “With my new job, I’m going to be really busy after this. I’m not looking for anything serious. But I’m really attracted to you. I’ve never felt like this with a guy before. So I guess what I’m saying is, I’d love to go look for a restaurant but I’d really rather go find a bed.”
And the throbbing is back.
She peers up at me. “Sorry, maybe I misread things.”
My breath explodes from my chest and I yank her up until our lips meet. I slide one hand into her hair to hold her captive and finally she melts against me, rocking her hips against mine. There’s no way she can’t feel how hard I am. When we finally have to break for air, her lips are pink and swollen and we’re both gasping.
