Jason held up his hands in surrender while the waitress set my whiskey on the table. Everyone waited while I threw back the entire thing. Max scooted his drink toward me and nodded.
So I took his drink.
And then Milo sent hers.
And really, I lost track after that, but at least I wasn’t thinking about Grandma again.
“So . . .” My vision blurred. “What’s this about ever since . . . her?”
“You’ve lost your game.” Max shook his head. “All you have left are the eyes and, let’s be honest, those have made their fair share of misfires this past week.”
“What? When?” I picked a chip off Jason’s shoulder and popped it in my mouth.
“Thanks, man,” he mumbled.
“Can we get some salsa up in here?” Colt yelled.
“Dude!” Max’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch as he leaned in; the group followed. “The mall.”
“The mall?” I repeated. “What did I do at the mall?”
“You gave the eyes to a puppy, man. Not cool.”
“It was a badass puppy!” I said defensively.
“There are ways to look at puppies, Reid, and there are ways to look at puppies. Feel me?”
“What? No! You’re crazy!”
“I’m only saying this because I love you, but the puppy started crying when you looked at it, Reid. What does that tell you?”
“I don’t know!” I rubbed my face. “I scared it?”
“Nature . . . is off because you, my friend, are off. You need to get back on the horse. Forget about Bengay. Use the power”—he pointed to his eyes—“for good. Stop staying in on the weekends! Don’t drink by yourself! And for the love of God, you don’t need to pack a gun. Jason’s grandma isn’t coming for you! All right? Now, I have a plan.”
I slammed my fist against the table. “Prison. Death. Choking.” I pointed to everyone. “Those are what your plans entail. Do I need to reference the last time you guys all had a plan? Or an idea?”
“Black eyes,” Jason added.
“Community service, damn it,” Colt muttered, grabbing a chip from Jason’s other shoulder.
“I can’t control the world!” Max lifted his hands in the air. “Jeez, I’m not God and I’m not president.” He beamed. “One day, but not now. No, it’s too soon.”
Beside him, Becca rolled her eyes. How the hell did she put up with his bullshit all the time?
“We’ll start slow.” Max shrugged. “Slow and steady wins the game.”
“Says no athlete—ever,” I sang.
“Shut it, Reid! I’m doing this because I love you!” Max turned away from me and toward the crowd. “We’ll start with a plain one and then move on from there once you’ve done your time.”
“Time as in prison?”
Max ignored me. “I see her now. Brown hair, brown eyes, not too skinny, not fat, just right.”
“We picking out a puppy?” I joked.
“You and puppies!” Max gave me a look of complete disappointment before scowling. “Stop being weird! Now walk up to her, do the eyes, and seduce her.”
“What?”
“Seduce her.” Max smiled. “It’s easy. Watch.”
He turned to Becca and nodded his head. “How you doin’?”
“Oh, dear God.” I rubbed my face with my hands, wishing I could teleport to my apartment without having to ride back in the car with my brother.
“Trust.” Max gripped my hand. “Don’t you want to expel Grandma from your brain? From the very blood that flows through the Emory veins?”
“Hell, yes,” I growled. Another drink was set in front of me. I tossed it back.
“That’s the spirit!” Max shouted. “Now, go seduce the girl! Give her the eyes, be a man!”
“On three.” Colt held out his hands. “Manhood!”
Max counted, “One, two, three, manhood!” We all cheered and I stumbled toward the bar.
Let’s pause here for a second and do a little counting, shall we?
One drink when I started the story.
Another drink.
Three more drinks, considering I also drank Max’s, Colt’s, and Milo’s.
And another, all before I made my way toward the bar.
Five drinks. Five drinks in less than fifteen minutes.
Carry on.
Like I said, it all started with listening to Max, so as I got up on shaky legs and made my way over to the bar, I had no idea I’d be sealing my fate.
No clue that the plain girl twisting the straw between her pretty little fingers would destroy me.
Or that there’d come a time when I’d go through drunken hell on a daily basis if only she’d give me another chance.
CHAPTER TWO
JORDAN
It was a two-drink night. Possibly a three-drink night if I could get the bartender to give me at least five minutes of his attention. Instead, he was pouring free shots, which I’m sure were frowned upon by the establishment, and trying to get some hot blonde’s phone number.
I sat back and watched in rapt fascination.
She twirled her hair.
He leaned closer.
More twirling.
He tilted his head.
And then she arched her back, which made his eyes focus on her perky breasts before he shoved another shot in her direction. I sipped what was left of my rum and Coke, irritated that the drink was already gone. Okay, so maybe it was a four-drink night. I could always call a cab, right?
The girl laughed loudly. It wasn’t an attractive laugh either. I imagined it was the exact sound turtles made while getting it on, an almost guttural groan that emitted from her tiny body before she plastered her long fuchsia nails across his forearm and rubbed.
Her nails were getting tangled in an abhorrent amount of forearm hair.
It was like watching a really horrible dating show.
Damn, I wished I could hear the dialogue better.
“Beautiful,” he whispered looking down at the mating dance of her nails with his body hair.
She blushed.
On demand.
But no way was that girl a virgin.
Neat trick.
I cleared my throat and waved in his direction. As entertaining as it was watching fake boobs seduce the hairy bartender, my drink was gone, and I was having a hell of a day—or week was more like it.
He ignored my raised hand.
I flipped him the bird.
He ignored that as well.
That was the problem with being me. I was the in-between girl. I wasn’t knock-your-socks-off gorgeous or ugly. If I were ugly, at least people would stare long enough to give me some attention.
No, I was invisible.
The one men passed over, not because I was an eyesore, but because in a sea of faces, mine was literally the last one to be noticed.
When I was little, I thought it was because I was shy.
As I got older, I realized people just didn’t see me.
In third grade when we were asked to do self-portraits, I presented mine to the class only to have my teacher give me an F for drawing a complete stranger.
I used my own picture. I kid you not.
I was continually sat on in the fifth grade. The bus driver eventually had me sit up front with the extra backpacks because it was becoming a problem.
High school was just as bad. During my freshman year, I guess I was too close to the gym wall, because when the janitor was painting it he painted me too. He said he didn’t see me standing there.
In my bright pink shirt and yellow shorts.
My thighs were Charger red for two weeks.
Sigh.
I twisted the straw between my fingertips again and winced.
My feet ached from wearing my heels all day, my tight pencil skirt felt two sizes too small, and my white oxford shirt was wrinkled from sweat.
So maybe it was good I was invisible, because there was nothing attractive about the way I looked right then. My red lips
tick had been chewed off hours earlier, and my eyes never did that sexy thing where they kept on eye shadow for longer than five minutes.
It was amazing—I’d leave the apartment excited about my makeup only to take a bathroom break a few hours later and realize it had disappeared from my face.
It was as if a magical makeup-removing unicorn had come and licked it off my face during my coffee break, leaving me pale and lifeless. Damn unicorns.
I slumped in my seat and stared into my empty glass, where two ice cubes remained.
“Rough day?” a deep voice rumbled behind me. Now, I’m not one to exaggerate, but I could have sworn in that moment my ovaries stood up and cheered as my body tingled with awareness only a voice like that could stir. Immediately I regretted my reaction. After all, my relationship with men was just as bad as my cloak of invisibility. If a man did notice me, it was usually to point out something that was wrong with me, making me wonder if it was even worth being noticed in the first place. My personal favorite was when a man approached me only to ask me to move to the left so he could hit on the girl behind me. On rare occasions when I lucked out and was the object of their attention, they were gay and loved my shoes, which usually meant at least I’d have a decent conversation.
I sighed and glanced down at my heels. I really did have great taste in shoes.
With that voice, my money was on the latter.
“Vince Camuto,” I said in a bored tone. “Last season, though I’m well aware they look like this season, thus the pairing with the pencil skirt. And no, the skirt isn’t Chanel, it’s Burberry.”
And . . . silence.
See? This is what I mean. He was probably talking to someone else, or thought I was someone else and was so embarrassed he hightailed it out of there. Chill, dude, I’m not going to throw myself at you and insist you have my babies. Even if your voice sounds like smooth caramel on crack.
A warm hand grabbed my shoulder, scaring the crap out of me. With a yell, I jerked my hand, causing the ice to topple out of my drink and down my white shirt.
I was too busy trying to get the ice out of my bra to look up.
“Wow, that’s new. Can’t say I’ve ever caused a woman to dump ice on her own shirt before.” The voice just got sexier by the minute, didn’t it?
“Aha!” I pulled out the almost completely melted cubes and dropped them to the floor, then looked up. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. And then I turned around like a complete loser.
Nobody sat behind me.
Damn, I guess I’m back to the gay thing.
“Sorry.” I turned back around and forced a smile. “Long day.”
The man had crazy hypnotic eyes. They were an aqua blue that I could have sworn full-on shimmered after I stared at them too long. Note to self: don’t look directly in his eyes for fear that clothes will spontaneously pull themselves off my body. I cleared my throat and narrowed my gaze.
His wavy auburn hair fell perfectly parted to the side, revealing a shaved section on the left right above his ear. It was trendy, sexy.
Full, bow-shaped lips curved into a smile. “That’s all right.” He pulled out a bar stool next to me and sat.
What was I supposed to do with my hands? Panicking, I grabbed my empty glass and clenched it so tight I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if it shattered in my hands.
The bartender finally made his way over. Bastard.
“What can I get you?” He placed a napkin in front of the hot and mysterious stranger.
“What she’s having?” He pointed a long, gorgeous finger in my direction.
A confused frown marred the bartender’s face. “Er, you just get here?”
I fought back a growl. “No. Been sitting here for a half hour now.”
“You sure?” Did he really have to press the issue?
I gritted my teeth. “Pretty sure.”
“Hmm, maybe Keith helped you then.”
It hadn’t been Keith.
“Rum and Coke,” I grumbled, wanting him to go away so I could stare at the pretty man candy next to me.
“Diet?” the bartender asked.
“What?” I felt my face flush. “No, regular Coke.”
He paused, giving me a once-over, and then shrugged and made my drink. In that moment, I had a very vivid daydream that involved a malfunctioning nutcracker.
“Double,” said Handsome on my left. “Make both of ours doubles. Hell, maybe give her a triple.”
“Ha.” I tapped the counter with my fingertips. “Getting drunk on a school night is frowned upon.”
The mesmerizing aqua eyes darn near bugged out of his head.
“Relax.” I smirked. “I have a fake ID.”
He clearly didn’t understand I was joking. With a curse, he stood to leave.
I burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. I’m thirty, I promise. I’ll even show you my ridiculously obnoxious photo on my driver’s license.” I nodded. “There was a storm that day.”
He flashed a smile and sat again. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“I call chicken,” I announced, then jerked my ID from my black Coach clutch and thrust it in his face.
“Damn.” He shuddered. Yup, I’d just made a hot stranger shudder in disgust. That’s how awesome I was at picking up men. Then again, he was gay, so the poor guy was probably horrified at the sweatshirt I was wearing in the picture.
“Yeah, well.” I put the ID back just as our drinks arrived.
Handsome Stranger paid for them, then took a large sip.
“So.” I twisted the two straws in the drink with my fingers. “Where’s the lucky guy?”
“Lucky guy?” His eyes narrowed as he took another drink. “I’m confused.”
“You’re gay,” I announced in a defeated voice.
Rum and Coke sprayed all over the counter. Handsome Stranger proceeded to choke on what I could only assume was an overly large tongue as he continued to cough and then finished his entire drink, slamming the glass back onto the countertop.
“Did Max put you up to this?” he rasped.
“Ah, lover boy has a name.” I winked. “Max. Sounds . . . flimsy. He the chick in this relationship?”
“Holy hell, I’m going to kill him.” He shook his head. “See, this is what happens when he tells me to take a chance!”
“To be fair”—I gave him a polite nod—“he was probably trying to encourage you to live a little.”
He glared. “I live just fine . . . in a penthouse.”
“Didn’t ask.” I held up my hands in defense.
“With floor-to-ceiling windows.”
“Awesome.” I started to scoot slowly away.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Mr. Handsome hooked his foot into my stool and jerked it toward him. I nearly collapsed into his lap. “What did Max tell you?”
“Is this a game?” I whispered. “Because I don’t think I know how to play.”
“Game.” He bit down hard on his full bottom lip. “If it was a game, I’d be losing.”
“O-okay.” I tried to inch away again, but this time his hand came down on my arm, holding me still.
“I’m not gay.”
“Then who’s Max?”
“My brother.”
“Whoa.” I laughed. “Okay, that’s a little too much crazy for one night. Thanks for the drink, but I think I’ll . . .” I held up my hands and waved into the air. “I’ll pass on whatever game you and your lover are playing. Have a good night.”
“But—”
“See ya!” I grabbed my coat and darn near collided with a wall in order to get away.
The minute I walked outside it started pouring rain.
I tried to hail a cab and only succeeded in getting drenched from head to toe. Hanging my head, I finally decided to walk back to my apartment. Was it wrong to wish to get mugged? Because that would at least prove to the universe that I wasn’t invisible.
Or that the only people that hit on me were either gay or
crazy or—lucky me—both.
CHAPTER THREE
REID
“So?” Max barked into the phone. “How’d it go?”
I stared blankly ahead as the sound of the TV filled my large apartment. “Just tell me why you did it.”
Max sighed. “I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, but could you please get there faster so I can go have sex?”
“Too much information.”
“Then talk faster, bitch!”
I must have been a real bastard in another life to get cursed with a brother like Max, one who would try the patience of ALL nuns, not just one of them—all of them. Even the old senile ones with hearts of gold.
“She knew I was hitting on her.”
Max was silent, then whispered, “Isn’t that the point?”
“No,” I roared. “She was in on it! You planted her!”
“I did no such thing!” Max argued back. “Why the hell would I do that? I wanted you to get on the horse, go for a ride, slap the pony, get yours—”
“I get it.” My temples throbbed.
“So, what would lead you to assume I planted the ass I wanted you to tap?”
“You kiss your fiancée with that mouth?”
“I do more than kiss her. Last night, I—”
“I’m sorry I asked,” I interrupted. “And the girl you planted accused me of being gay!”
Max burst out laughing.
I growled.
“Oh.” A few more chuckles. “I’m sorry. I was laughing with you, not at you.”
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“Why the hell not? It’s hilarious!”
“Good-bye, Max.”
“No, wait!” Max laughed louder. “See! This is what I was saying earlier! Your charm is misfiring. It’s like you’ve discovered the unlucky penny. You have to get out there and settle down. It’s time, man. At least the universe proved it to you so I wouldn’t have to.”
“Whatever.” I licked my lips. “I’ve got an early call time in the morning, so I’m going to bed.”
“Did you at least get her number?”
“Dude, she ran away from me.”
Silence.
I waited. “Max, you still there?”
“It’s sad when your balls start to work against you by rejecting all traces of females in your vicinity. I’ll add them to my prayer list.”
The Consequence of Seduction Page 2
