"He won't. Jax is a straight shooter like me. We don’t make any promises.”
She nods her head and looks a little, sad? "I believe you. No relationships.”
“That’s true. Neither one of us have had a girlfriend in the years we’ve known each other. He did have a few go-to girls in Oklahoma when he was too lazy or didn't feel like going to a bar. He doesn’t exactly follow any rules that I know of, just an understanding that there’ll be no commitments. He’s not a heartless asshole, Brooke. I'm sure they talked about it."
She nods, "You’re probably right, and they’re both adults. Not to mention I guess it's none of my business.” She sits up straighter and smiles at me. “Anyway, it seems like everything is okay here.” Okay, subject change, now it’s back to business.
"Yep, things are great so far. Doesn’t mean we won’t need you in the future, though.”
That makes her smile, "I should hope not. I love doing what I can for you guys.”
I hate already how sterile this conversation is going. "I told the kids not to ask you to stay for dinner.” She jerks her head back as if I slapped her, and I immediately regret the sharp tone of my voice, so I soften it. “I told them because you’re probably tired from working. Just didn’t want you feeling awkward.”
"That's thoughtful of you, but I don’t see how having dinner would be awkward, Dylan. I’ve had dinner with you guys plenty of times. I don't want what we did to have any effect on my responsibility to you and the kids or the relationship I’ve built with them." Her tone is distant and chilly, nothing like the usual sweetness I associate with her when she speaks.
“Glad to hear that. I was worried you might feel like pushing them away again, but you seem fine with everything. So if you feel like dinner, feel free to join us. I know they would enjoy having you.” Obviously, our night together worked great for getting past any sexual attraction to she had. So why the fuck didn’t it work for me?
I stand up, "Alright, you’re always welcome here, Brooke."
She stands too and smiles widely, "So what are you making me?"
"Yeah, I think you mean what are we making?"
She laughs, “Of course. So what’s on the menu?"
"Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn."
"Yum, I’m starving."
In the kitchen, we gather everything we need. Brooke, of course, looks right at home in here, but why shouldn’t she? She sets her phone on Bluetooth for music, because Brooke can’t cook without music. Why do I sound so bitter? Then comes the innocuous small talk about everything but us, which there is no us. Shit, I wish she would just cook in silence. Get this shit over. “Dylan, did you hear me?”
I look over at her questioningly. I have no clue what this conversation is even about. I heave a sigh, “No, sorry. I spaced out a moment.”
“I was just asking if Gabby’s psychologist has talked to you about how well she’s recovering. I think it’s something the judge will be looking at when he reads updates.” Blah, blah, blah, kids, judges, cases. What about just me and her and amazing fucking sex. Shake it off man.
She picks up the flour container and continues, “Well, if you want we could get him to write a report just for the judge, and I thin…..”
That’s it; she has to go home, now. I just can’t take this anymore.
I grab the container out of her hands, placing it carefully on the island. Facing her I take a deep breath, “You have to go, Brooke. This has to be professional. Cooking and eating together is not professional, and so I need you to just. Go.” I turn her to toward the front door and give her a slight push, but she whirls on me.
“Why? What’s going on that all of a sudden I need to leave?” She demands.
Does she really not give a shit about…? No, fuck this shit. “It’s just not right for my social worker to be here cooking and having dinner with my family. We agreed that after Thursday night we are back to who we’re supposed to be, and you aren’t supposed to be here. Time to respect those boundaries you were always going on about.”
“So, what’s so different this time than any other time?” She just won’t give up.
“Before we hadn’t fucked, now we have.”
“That doesn’t even make sense….”
I raise my voice to get my point across this time, “Just go, Brooke. Please.”
She stares at me; I’m sure she’s confused, maybe hurt judging by the look on her face, then turns. She doesn’t even put on her coat, just grabs it and closes the door. I look at all the preparations for dinner left on the counter and sweep them in the sink. “Luke, Cassie,” I yell. They come running up the stairs as I head for the garage door.
“What?” Luke asks.
“You two get this shit cleaned up and order pizza. I have to go.”
Cassie looks around worriedly at the mess I created in a fit, “Dylan, what happened and where did Brooke go?”
“Not now. You two just clean this and feed you guys.” In the attached garage I pass Luke’s SUV and head for my Camaro, but once I see it, I keep going to the unattached garage. No way can I drive that car right now remembering Brooke driving it the other night. Driving like she’s chasing the checkered flag, like the flag tattooed in the perfect place on her perfect fucking body. When I reach the other garage, the first car I see is that damn Roadrunner. I try averting my eyes, but of course, they go automatically to the spot I had her pushed against while we fucked us both stupid, the first time. My fist slams down on the hood before I can stop the stupid move because fuck that hurt like a mother. At least, my truck is safe.
Fifteen minutes later I’m downing my third shot at the first dive bar I see. It’s not full, but there’s certainly plenty of bar bitches milling around, and it goes without saying I’m the best fucking thing on the menu tonight. All the men are the ones that would rather be any place other than home with the missus.
I pick up the shot that the bartender just slides across and slam it back, anything to numb my fucking mind. I’m trying to forget so many things right now that there’s probably not enough liquor in this place to wipe it clean. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice one, not so bad looking, chick making her way toward me, probably thinking she’s the lucky one for the night. Hell, maybe she might be.
She slides up next to me and faces me, “Buy me one? It’s a shame to drink alone, you know?” Her voice is sultry. She’s obviously very willing. Her tits are big. The face is okay. Like that red lipstick. Mmm, might leave a nice ring around my cock. She’s exactly my type for a ‘happy hour.’
I slide my hand up her bare thigh, “So, you alone?”
”All by my lonesome, just like you.” She smiles at me, but it looks all wrong. Fake, cold.
I’m drunk. I tap the bar for another round, and, this time, order four. “Hope you don’t mind Jack,” I warn her.
“Sounds good to me.” We down our first shot and reach for the other. The burn of the liquor is long gone, and it slides down so damn smooth, just like my hand up the short length of her skirt. This is going to be so damn easy.
She leans in close giving me a good eye full of her deep cleavage, and I think how hot it would be to slide my cock between them, right before I release cum all over her fake tits. My brain is all in, now if I could just get my dick on board we could move this party to a bathroom, definitely not outside because I think there was snow. “There a bathroom with a sturdy counter in this place,” I slur.
She slips her hand towards toward my groin, “What’s your name, handsome?”
“That shit don’t matter. Now about those bathroom counters?” I signal for four more shots and get a dirty glare in return. That shit pisses me off, so I give my glass a couple of sharp taps. “Four more down here for my new friend.” He turns away impatiently to grab the bottle and four clean glasses. I don’t need his shit right now. I turn back to big tits. Our shots are set down in front of us, and just as quickly I grab one, she gives my still flaccid cock a hard squeeze, and still th
ere’s nothing.
I’m wondering what the hell it’ll take to get it interested in the party that’s under her barely-there dress. I grab another shot, and I slam it and nearly fall off my stool. Her laugh grates on my nerves, but I ignore it. I’m not interested in her laugh, more like what she can do to make me forget about my goddamn social worker. Fuck, she’s not invited to this playground.
The room was already spinning, now its full-on whirling and picking up speed. I lean in to face plant against the generous chest of this chick and fall forward so hard I nearly knock us both to the ground. “Okay, buddy, that’s it. You’re cut off.” Say what? I look up at the scowling bartender.
“Not finished yet, give me four more. Hey, can you tell me if one of those rooms back there has a place I can take her? Just need half hour tops.” It takes me so long to get that out I forget what I’m talking about.
“You’re drunk, and you’re leaving. You want a cab or someone to come pick you up?”
”Motherfucker, I’m not done drinking, neither is…..her,” I slur.
He grabs my phone from the bar in front of me. “Is there someone in here I can call? If not, it’ll be a cab or the cops. Your choice.”
I try to reach for my phone, slip off the stool, again barely catching myself. “Shit.” I shake my head trying to clear some of my buzz. But the spinning gets worse. Tits slides off her stool and turns to walk away. “Hey, where you going?”
“You’re drunk and need to go home. Let him call someone for you.”
I watch her walk to a table with two guys and sidle right up to one, leaning in and giving him that titty shot she had given me earlier. I turn back to the man holding my phone. “Who’s it gonna be?” He asks.
I try to think who I can call. Jax is gone. Brooke? Hell no. Luke. Fuuuck, this isn’t good. I lean my head on my folded arms. “Luke. In my contacts.”
I hear him talking on my phone. “Is this Luke?” Pause “Okay, this is Dirk at RJ’s on North Arbor. I have a drunk guy here who told me to call you to get him.” Pause “Yeah, hold on.” He shakes my arm, “What’s your name?”
“Dylan,” I answer.”
“His name’s Dylan.” Pause “There’s no way he can drive.” Pause “Shit, give me a second.” Pause “Alright, come on, and when you get here, call his phone. I’ll make sure he gets outside.” Pause “See ya in 20.”
Twenty-five minutes later and I’ve got a mountain man buckling me in the front of Luke’s car. Three minutes later I’ve got a 16-year-old deciding he needs answers. “What the fuck, Dylan. Why are you so drunk?”
“Shut it, and drive,” I slur.
“Just tell me what happen to make you end up drunk at a bar smelling like the cheap perfume aisle at Wal-Mart.”
“Drop it, Luke. I’m not in the fucking mood right now.” Fuck my life.
The next morning I go into work, barely managing a greeting to Carolyn. My head is about to blow, and I can’t remember a damn thing other than shots and a pair of big tits. I woke to Luke slamming my door open and yelling for me to get my drunk ass out of bed, which was perfect in itself, but became shit-tacular when he informed me that was the last time he picks me up from a bar drunk and unable to walk. My clothes smelled like a discount hooker, smoke, and an empty bottle of whiskey. I'm just hoping like fuck I didn’t screw up.
I’m downing my third bottle of water after my fourth cup of coffee looking after taking four ibuprofen trying to find my way back to the land of the living when Jax bursts into my office looking thoroughly agitated. Join the club. "Fucking Oklahoma shop is falling apart."
I just grunt and motion with my hand for him to explain. Pretty much all I’ve got.
"George quit and Joy has been fucking up with customer orders left and right."
"Fire her. Who gives a shit about George?”
"Firing Joy isn't an option since you fucked her, and George quitting just means looking for a new employee and training him. He and Joe got into it which is all kinds of fucked up. No one fights with Joe."
I rub my temples, which never actually works, but right now I’d do anything for relief of the headache I had which is steadily getting worse. I don’t know what the hell Jackson is so worried about. George was a good mechanic, but he can be replaced. Now if Joe had been the one to quit all this bullshit would bother me. The situation with Joy I can’t even think about right now. It sucks and doesn’t seem to be going away even though I don’t even live there anymore. "Calm down, it'll be fine."
He sits in the chair across from me, "I hired a new guy. He has some outstanding references. But I think you fucked all the smarts out of Joy."
"I don't think she started with much, and if I recall, you hired her."
"True."
"Hire someone to help her, we can afford it.”
"Already done."
"Then what the fuck are you complaining about?"
He shrugs and puts his boots up on my desk, kicking back. "Just telling you how my trip went. What the fuck is the matter with you? You look like dog shit, man.”
“Hangover from hell.”
"Do tell. Did You go out last night? Any good pussy? Where’d you go?”
“Can we just not talk right now? I got drunk and barely remember some big tits.”
"So my man, Dylan, is back. Good to know.”
“Yep, looks like it,” I grumble.
"Nice, so you gonna be my wingman Friday? We can go to a couple of places I’ve tried out.”
I consider the invite. Right now the answer is hell no. But that’s because I’m not quite over last night’s crapfest. A memory of a hand on my limp dick flashes through my mind. The girl from the bar with the big tits and I couldn’t get hard. Huh, probably because I had too much to drink because I vaguely remember how I wanted to fuck her big tits. Maybe I need to go out with Jax and try again, this time with less alcohol involved. Time to clear Brooke out and make way for nameless women who won’t take up head space longer than it will take to get off. “Yeah, sounds good. Luke’s got a date, but Cass can watch the kids for a few hours.”
"Fuckin A, man. I know just the place. It has karaoke, so you know the chicks will be swarming.”
"I'm in."
He stands up, "Alright, glad to have ya back, man."
He starts to leave, but I stop him. "Hey, Alex was cool with y’all’s hookup wasn’t she?”
Jax turns back toward me, "Yeah, she was cool. We had a good time. I even talked to her last night."
"Be careful. She’s got relationship written all over her. I don't think she's looking for the type of arrangement you're used to.”
"Don't worry about it. Alex can handle herself."
“You know I wouldn’t normally say anything, but she’s Brooke’s friend, and I don’t need any bad feelings if she ends up with hurt feelings.”
"You sound like Brooke. She put you up to this?"
"Hell no, I just don't want any trouble from my social worker because she thinks you did her best friend bad.”
He nods, "Don't worry about it, I would never do anything to mess things up for you and the kids.”
He leaves, and I try to get through the day without thinking about Brooke and fail. And so it goes for the rest of the week. Go to sleep, there’s Brooke. Wake up, there’s Brooke.
When we hit the club Friday night, I’m ready. The place is a wall-to-wall bar flies. Perfect. This won’t be hard at all. As soon as we find a table they begin swarming, and it doesn’t take us long to cull out our two best prospects. Just our type; pretty enough and horny. That’s all we need because after tonight we’ll be lucky to remember them. We pull out the two extra stools at our table for our guests and the mating games begin. We order beers all around. Flirty looks and not-so-subtle come-ons are exchanged. She’s a redhead, a fine ass, and lips that would look hot wrapped around my cock. The fucker better want to play tonight. I test the waters by putting my arm around her back and draw lazy circles on her shoulder. She shivers and leans
closer. It’s like some step-by-step manual on how to get laid at a bar.
“Have you been here before?”
“Nope, this is my first time. My buddy has, though.” I say toward Jackson.
“Lisa and I come every Friday for karaoke. It’s a good place.” I take a swig of my beer. I try to remember if picking up women was always this boring. I think we need to skip this shit and head straight to the sex.
Her hand drops to my thigh, and she’s so close to me I am assaulted by her perfume. She needs to seriously reconsider her choice; because the shit is strong and annoying. Nothing like the subtle scent that Brooke wears. And there you have it, folks. She’s going to fuck with me getting some tonight. We’ve been sitting here for a couple of hours now, and I need to get her somewhere so this chick can get my dick hard.
“You wanna get out of here and go back to your place,” I whisper in her ear. This always gets me a yes, just like it does this time.
“Sounds good.” She stands and takes my hand.
I lean across the table to tell Jax, “Hey, man. We’re out. I’ll call tomorrow.”
He gives me a shit eating grin, “Yeah. Have a sweet time.” We bump fists and whatshername and I are gone.
In the parking lot, I follow her to her car. Since I rode with Jackson, I’ll ride with her and call a cab, definitely not call my brother. I walk her to the driver’s side, and she reaches up putting her arms around my neck. Of course, she goes in for a kiss, which isn’t happening. I pull back. “No kissing.”
“What?” She gives me an odd look. “I like kissing, and I want to kiss you.”
“And it’s not happening. I don’t kiss.” Unless of course it’s Brooke. Fuck!
“Do you even remember my name?”
I stare at her, because no, I don’t. “What the fuck does know your name have to do with you sucking my cock tonight?” Wow, I’m being an ass, and can’t seem to stop myself.
“My name is Amy,” she says. She sounds pissed that she has to tell me, which I guess she has a right to be.
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