“I was thinking Charro for dinner, and we can head to Club Blue about nine-ish,” I suggest, snatching my pizza out of her mouth and taking the last bite.
“Works for me,” she says as she settles on a movie and places the remote down. It’s Pulp Fiction and it’s about midway through. This is a classic and one of my favorites. John Travolta is the man, and I love his movies, well most of them. I cannot sit through any part of Michael. That movie, the little bit of it I have seen, is awful.
A few hours later, I’m getting off the couch to go find Stacy when I hear my iPhone chime; the sound of a text message. I retrieve my purse pulling out my phone; it’s Nick. I read the time on my phone and its 5:53 pm. Opening the text I read his message.
Why is all of your stuff gone?
Why does he care? He should be glad I’m gone from his place. I really don’t want to deal with this right now, but I reply to his text.
I had time on my hands.
I decided to get everything
today instead of tomorrow
I start to set my phone down when it starts ringing. It’s him. What the hell is his problem? I figured he would be glad to get rid of me after his dismissal earlier this morning.
“Hello?” I say into my phone. My anger from this morning starts to filter in. I can’t believe myself. I think I’m madder at myself for giving into my desires than I am at him.
“Where the hell are you?” he questions in an angry tone.
What the hell?
What business is it of his where I am? The last time I checked, I don’t belong to him either. What is it with men in the last few days, thinking women are their property? This woman belongs to no-fucking-body!
“At a friend’s apartment, what’s your problem?” I snap at him, remembering why I thought he was a jerk two nights ago. He has no right to demand to know my whereabouts, and why the hell am I telling him anything? I should hang up on him.
“You said you were coming tomorrow to pick your things up. Why the change of plans? And why when I wasn’t here?” His voice still full of anger; apparently this time, his anger is directed at me.
“What does it matter?” I ask, but I don’t wait for his answer. “Look Nick...maybe we shouldn’t see each other again. I have to go, bye,” I say quickly and hang up. I feel depressed and sad when I set my phone down.
I need another glass of wine. Alcohol seems to be my fix for everything these days. Walking into the kitchen, I pour another glass as Stacy walks in.
“Pour me one too please,” she says as she thrusts her glass in my face. She is dressed to kill in a red strapless dress that is skintight and shows way too much leg. She is wearing matching red sandals with a two-inch heel and a strap around the ankle.
“You look hot. Whose pants are you trying to get into tonight?” I ask as I’m walking out of the kitchen and back into the living room to wake Katelyn up who fell asleep twenty minutes into the movie.
“No one in particular. Now will you two lazy bums get up and get dressed? I’m going over to Ben and Kyle’s. Come get us when you’re ready to leave,” she says in a Stacy-like fashion.
Pouncing on Katelyn, I say, “Time to get up. I’m going to use Stacy’s bathroom. Be ready in forty.”
She grabs a throw pillow and covers her head. “It’s only 6:05 p.m., can’t I have another hour?” she asks.
“No, you can’t,” I say as I stand and steal the pillow from her. As I’m walking to Stacy’s room, I toss the pillow into a chair.
“You suck.” I hear her say as I’m walking down the hall.
* * * * *
An hour later I’m sitting on a bar stool in Ben and Kyle’s apartment, drinking yet another glass of wine while waiting on Katelyn to emerge from her apartment. Ben peeks his head out the front door of his apartment. “She’s finally ready. Let’s roll.” He’s since shaved off the hideous mustache. Apparently, enough people ragged on him about it at the gym.
We make our way down the stairs and into the parking lot; we all pile in Ben’s blue Ford Explorer. Ben is in the driver’s seat. Kyle is seated in the passenger’s seat, and my two girlfriends and I are in the back. Ben starts the ignition and Katy Perry’s “Hot N Cold” is playing. Kyle quickly switches the station to 95.5 KLOS. He and I have the same taste in music, and like me, he hates pop…aka, shitty music. Ben, on the other hand, doesn’t know what genre he likes. It’s different every damn month. Apparently, he’s into pop right now.
“Dude, stop touching my fucking radio,” Ben huffs out, but doesn’t turn it back; Kyle doesn’t respond. He knows if he makes a smart-ass remark, then Ben will force him to listen to pop music for the remainder of the drive. He’s not stupid.
Once we arrive at Charro’s Ben whips the SUV into the only free space available. We’ve made it just in time. Otherwise, we would be finding another restaurant tonight. There is no way I would be walking the half-mile back to this popular eatery.
When we get out of the SUV, I smooth out my dress I borrowed Stacy’s two-inch, white sandals with a strap around the ankle. We may not share clothes, but we are the same foot size and raid each other’s shoe closet all the time.
I order a ground-beef taco salad with extra cheese sauce and a margarita on the rocks. You can’t eat Mexican food without a margarita, and my friends share the same philosophy as we all order the same drink.
“So, Shannon,” Kyle starts. “Has the douchebag tried to get you back yet?” All heads turn in my direction, waiting for a response.
“Yeah,” I sigh out, wondering if I should divulge everything that’s happened over the last few days. The last two people I want to think about, let alone talk about, are Luke and Allison, but then what kind of friend would I be if I kept them all in the dark? A pretty shitty friend, probably.
“Well?” Ben draws out in a long breath. I guess the conversation with myself in my head was a lot longer than I thought.
“Well…um…” I hesitate, searching for the right words to say. “Luke came by work yesterday, caused a small scene and then showed up drunk last night at the hotel.” I leave out the even bigger scene he caused last night. I still can’t wrap my head around what he did. “He caught me before my meeting this morning and tried to apologize for his behavior,” I finish, thinking I’ve told them plenty.
“Why did you just hesitate like you didn’t want to tell us? Did the shithead do anything?” Stacy questions. Yes, he did, but I don’t want to think about that now, let alone discuss it. Surely, they get that.
“I wasn’t, and guys, I really just want to forget about him and never have to deal with him again,” I say, taking a large sip of Margarita through my straw.
For the next two hours, we eat, drink, laugh and call each other on our bullshit. It’s already a fun night; I need this, along with the alcohol to take my mind off Nick. My friends may think I need a distraction from Luke and former best friend, but the truth is, I need to forget about the best sex I’ve ever had with a man I don’t even know.
After paying the bill, we all walk to Club Blue. It’s 9:45 and the doorman lets us pass through without waiting in line. It’s great that Stacy’s on TV, even if it is the news. Her face gets us in most places, and we use it to our advantage.
Finding a table that will accommodate the five of us, I take a seat at the end of the high top table on a barstool for a seat.
Ben and Kyle are walking up with our drinks when Ben pulls me off the stool and says, “We are going to go dance, sweetness.”
I hear the pop song, “Mirror” playing in the background, causing me to think about Nick momentarily. I think it’s a Justin Timberlake song. It’s not my type of music, but I know Katelyn and Stacy love it, and I can usually roll with whatever. I may not fully appreciate JT’s music, but I love his performances on Saturday Night Live. The guy is funnier than shit.
Ben is really into this and he’s moving us all over the place on the dance floor. We are having a blast. After fifteen minutes, I squeeze him by t
he shoulders and shout into his ear over the music saying, “It’s time for me to sit down. I need more alcohol.”
He stays on the dance floor and I exit, making my way back to our table. Katelyn is handing me a glass of white wine as I take a seat. “I got you a refresh,” she says as she takes a sip of her wine.
“Holy hell! If that isn’t the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen,” she says while looking past me, over my shoulder.
I go to turn around and she grabs my arm to stop me. “Don’t look. He’s walking this way.”
A few seconds later, warm hands are wrapping around me, and my friends eyes look like they are about to pop out of their sockets. It’s him…it’s Nick. I know by the way he feels, the intoxicating smell of him, the way my body has little tingles of electricity running through it.
“Pardon me, but I need to borrow this one for a moment,” he says, pulling me off the stool by my waist. My friends do not protest and are sitting there stunned with their mouths on the table.
He guides me to a corner by the wall, turning me around to face him. My back is against the cold concrete and he’s towering over me with his hands placed on the wall above me.
“Your friend is lucky he’s gay,” he says with a serious expression. The anger that was in his voice on the phone isn’t present.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, clearly not understanding his point.
“It means, if he wasn’t gay and had his hands all over you on the dance floor, his face would have come in contact with my fist. That’s what that means.” He tells me through dark, intense hooded eyes.
My anger is building and I’m about to lash out at him when he grabs the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss. The anger subdues as I kiss him back fisting the lapels of his jacket in my hands. All my built up tension from today leaves my body, and I begin to relax.
Damn, I do love the effect he has on me.
He breaks away all too quickly for my liking, but I remain holding him by the lapels of his jacket. I ease my grip and look up at him.
“Shannon, do you mind telling me what it is I did wrong, and why you chose to leave me without a goodbye?” There is hurt in his eyes; it hurts my heart. I’m getting tired of seeing this pained look, especially as I don’t understand it. I release him and look down. “Talk to me, damn it.” He sounds frustrated. I look back up at him.
“Earlier today, in your office, you dismissed me, like…like I’d only been there for you to fuck.” I say it in a low voice and it feels awful saying it out loud. I look back down. My good night I was having is turning to shit.
He bends his head down and rests his forehead on mine. “That’s what you think?”
“That’s what it felt like, and I didn’t like it.” I grab his lapels again, I’m just holding on to them. He lifts my chin so I look him in the eyes.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t dismissing you. I swear. I had another meeting to get to, and you brought your portfolio, so I thought we were done.” He has the most sincere look on his face.
I believe him.
Don’t get me wrong, a goodbye kiss would have been nice, but shit. This whole thing that’s going on between us, is all kinds of confusing.
“Okay,” I whisper. How did I miss reading the situation?
“Okay, as in we’re good?” he asks, and I nod. He kisses my cheek softly, and then moves to that spot on my neck that he likes so much and kisses me again. He continues and trails kisses up until he reaches my ear.
“Introduce me to your friends,” he whispers. I nod again, and he steps back taking my hand. I lead him to the table. My friends are staring and still have their mouths lying open on the table. They are in disbelief, I think. I guess they were watching that.
When we arrive back at the table, Nick is standing behind me. I pick my wine glass up and finish the contents in one gulp.
“Guys, this is Nick…I mean Nicholas,” I correct myself. I don’t need my friends messing up his name even though I refuse to call him by it. They all introduce themselves to Nick. Stacy is the last and Nick asks, “Aren’t you the weather girl from Channel 5?”
There is silence at the table and Stacy is glaring at Nick. “Meteorologist,” she spits outs and I laugh. I can’t help it. I know Stacy hates being referred to as a weather girl. We all say it to her face, but only when we want to piss her off.
“Chief meteorologist to be exact,” she adds with an angry tone. I laugh again, thinking about how she slept with the executive producer of Channel 5 news to get that spot. It’s not like she wasn’t the most qualified, because she was. It’s the fact that she did it to ensure she would get it over anyone else. I love her dearly, but she will fuck anyone to get what she wants.
Nick doesn’t apologize. Clasping my hand into his, he announces, “I’m taking Shannon upstairs with me. Would you all like to join us?”
He is?
My friends’ eyes light up and simultaneously shout, “YES!”
None of us has ever been on the second level. Most clubbers from level one never have and never will. Level two is the private area of Club Blue. I assume it’s where CEOs and celebrities hang out; although, I’ve never seen a celebrity here.
Making our way out of the elevator and into the room, it seems bigger than down below. A tall railing circles the center. It’s open and you can look down onto level one. The tables are spaced out more, and there are booths and couches that line the wall. In the back, there is another dance floor. It’s a little smaller than the one on level one, probably because there aren’t as many people on this level.
“Follow me,” Nick says as he leads us to a private table off to the side. He hasn’t let go of my hand since we were on downstairs. When we reach the big table, there are three men already sitting there, but it’s big enough to accommodate everyone.
Nick lets everyone take a seat and gestures for me to follow him to the end of the table. The chairs are a lot nicer up here. They are big black stools, similar to the ones down below, but these chairs have cushioned backs that wrap around. I like them.
I take my seat and Nick stands next to me with his arm draped over the back of the chair behind my head. Without taking his eyes off me, he says, “The mean looking guy is Jase. The big one is Shane, and the old one is Matt."
“Fuck you, Lockhart,” they all three say in unison.
Nick looks up and across the table at what I assume are his friends. “I just call it like I see it,” he says with a smile.
Matt, the old guy as Nick called him, doesn’t look that old to me, maybe late thirties. He has dusty grey hair mixed with dark black, and a goatee to match. He’s wearing a business suit and is drinking what looks to be whiskey.
Shane has milk chocolate flawless skin and beautiful, perfect white teeth. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He has a Shemar Moore look about him and I immediately take notice that Katelyn appears to be in awe. Yeah, he’s hot! She isn’t blind. My friend takes a seat right next to him. Looking at both of them, they look somewhat exotic. Katelyn has long, curly jet-black hair, green eyes, and perfect olive skin. They just look right sitting next to each other.
Jase is similar in build to Nick. I’m guessing they are about the same height and size. He has dirty-blond hair. It’s short on the sides and longer on top, and he has piercing sky-blue eyes. There are tattoos covering the sleeves of each arm, and lettering across the top of his right fingers. The room is dim and he’s standing at the other end of the long table, so I can’t make out the word. There is colorful ink poking out of the collar of his t-shirt. I probably should not be staring at him this long, but he reminds me of Jacoby Shaddix, the lead singer from my favorite band, and in my opinion, the hottest man in the world. Or at least, he was two days ago, before I laid eyes on Nick.
Nick guides my chin in his direction and I’m now looking at him. He hasn’t left his position next to me; his arm’s still draped over the back of my chair. “Pay attention to me, please.”
&nb
sp; “So how did you know I was here?” I question him. It’s a bit odd how I told him I didn’t think we should see each other again, yet we end up at the same club.
“I didn’t, but you’re not exactly hard to pick out in a room full of blondes and brunettes,” he says while running a hand through my red hair. He turns my chair slightly so that my side is facing the others; my front is facing a black painted concrete wall and he’s on the other side of me. He starts to kiss me and places his hand on my knee, the one that isn’t resting behind my head.
“White looks stunning on you,” he tells me through our kiss while moving his hand up my leg. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. His touch feels so good. I’m relaxed again; like I was earlier today in his office when he was touching me before I thought he was dismissing me. He continues kissing me, inching his hand up my leg. He slides it underneath the hem of my dress causing me to freeze.
“Nick, what are you doing?” I flush with embarrassment and heat, and start looking to the side to make sure no one is watching. No one is; my friends are in full conversation mode with Nick’s friends.
“No one is watching us, and if they were, they wouldn’t see anything except me kissing you. The sides of the chair and the height of the table block everything below your tits, babe.” He goes back to kissing me. He deepens the kiss, pushing me back further into the seat. His tongue pries my lips further apart and begins to massage my own. He’s not stopping at the hem. He continues to move his hand slowly up my thigh underneath my dress. Surely my friends can see this. Why aren’t they stopping me? Why aren’t I stopping myself? I don’t do PDA, so why am I with this man? I move my hand on top of his to protest his movement.
“Relax, baby, and let this happen. No one can see. I promise. But be fucking quiet,” he says in a whisper through our kiss. I’m losing myself in him. I retract my hand and my legs widen on their own accord. His scent is intoxicating and overpowering. His taste is divine, and I can’t get enough. His hand has reached the fabric of my panties that’s concealing my pussy, and he pushes the material to the side. With his thumb, he finds my clit and he presses hard into it. I grab the sleeve of his jacket biting down on his bottom lip so I don’t scream. This is the point where I really need to stop this, but then he starts to rotate his thumb, and with another finger he enters me, slowly driving his finger in and out of me, in and out again.
Silent No More Page 8
