I sit at one, ordering a beer when the cocktail waitress approaches. She flashes me a sultry smile, her blond hair cascading down her front, though not disguising her ample br**sts on display.
She doesn’t interest me. I’m too caught up looking for the girl I lost track of. The girl I disappointed.
A single spotlight suddenly shines on the stage and the curtains part, revealing a woman straddling the back of a chair, long, bare legs spread, feet clad in stiletto sandals. Her head is bent forward, her dark hair falling over her face, concealing her identity.
Recognition rises within me, making my spine tingle. I know who she is.
The music starts, slow and sensual, and she grips the chair back, tossing her head around, her long, dark hair flying. She stands, kicking the chair away with a thrust of one sexy leg, and the men start to cheer as she struts out onto the catwalk, a saucy smile curving her ruby-red lips.
Jealousy flares and I rest my clenched fists on top of the table, overcome with a wave of possessiveness. That’s my Jenny up on that stage, wearing a f**king G-string and a bikini top that barely covers her breasts. I’ve never seen her like this. Moving to the beat as if she was born to dance, her h*ps shimmying, her arms above her head, fingers running through her hair. She’s pure seduction and I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched in the gut.
The men around me yell and whistle, chanting her name. They call her Janey, and relief fills me that at least she withheld her true identity from the crowds of strange men who come to watch her dance on a nightly basis.
I know who she is. I know the real Jennifer. Or at least . . . I thought I did.
The music ends quickly and I stand, making my way to the door that leads backstage. A bouncer stops me. The guy is huge and broad, with arms as big as my goddamn head, and I try to push past him. Tell him that I’m Janey/Jenny’s brother.
He doesn’t believe me and sends me packing.
I linger. I search. I ask questions. But I don’t see her. No one knows her. They’re all lying, protecting her, from what I don’t understand. Frustrated, I leave the parking lot. I notice a lone car parked away from the others, the windows steamed, the vehicle rocking slightly from whoever’s moving around inside it.
Like a man possessed I run toward it, yanking open the driver’s-side door to find Jenny inside with a man. A strange man who has his hand on her breast and her hand is on his crotch. I don’t f**king know what’s happening, but next thing I know I reach inside and yank her out. Toss her over my shoulder and carry her to my car, ignoring her protests, wincing against the punches her hands are pounding against my back.
“Put me down! Go away, Colin! I don’t need you. I’ve never needed you!”
She’s angry, but I don’t care. I’m angrier. Disappointed. In both her and myself. What is she doing? It’s bad enough she strips on a stage every night. Why the hell was she in that man’s car, letting him touch her like that?
I don’t want to know. I’m in f**king denial.
It’s easier that way.
I sit straight up in bed, my body covered in sweat, my head roaring, the blood rushing in my ears, drowning out all other sounds and thoughts. Thrusting my hand through my hair, I grab my cell phone and check the time, see that it’s just past three in the morning.
A shudder runs through me and I flop back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. For once, there’s no Jen in my bed to offer me comfort, holding me in her arms after my nightmare.
Fuck. That one had been a doozy.
Rarely do I dream about Jen, and I figure that’s because she’s such a part of my day-to-day life, I don’t need to see her in my dreams. Well, I have the occasional sweaty sex dream, where I imagine her na**d and me thrusting deep inside her welcoming body. Unfortunately, that particularly fantasy is all too rare.
This last nightmare scared the hell out of me. Finding her in the car, her hand on the guy, him groping her . . .
The way she looked at me, the things she said . . .
Go away, Colin! I don’t need you. I’ve never needed you!
Jesus.
Breathing deep, I throw my arm over my eyes, trying my best to block out the words. Instead I concentrate on slowing my heart rate, willing myself to fall back asleep, but I can’t.
All I can think about is the damn dream. Jen. Jennifer Cade dancing on a f**king stage like some sort of sex goddess—for other men. Since when did I want her to be my personal sex goddess?
Longer than you ever realized, asshole.
Right. I’ve turned into an angst-ridden as**ole that can do nothing but mope and push a girl away. The kind of man who could probably turn his life into something pretty amazing, if only I would let her in. If only I could drop my walls.
Women have moved in and out of my life. Nameless faces, pretty bodies, girls I’ve used for physical release and nothing else. Relationships are nonexistent. I’ve never wanted one. Never thought a woman would want one with me. I’m just like my father. I can’t settle down. Dad tried but he left, keeping Mom on a string. A string she happily lets herself stay attached to.
I don’t get it.
I think of pissed-off Fable and wonder if her boyfriend would give me any advice. Chuckling, I roll over on my side and close my eyes. Yeah, we’re sort of friends and we get along all right, but come on. I’m older than the guy, though not by much. I’ve actually lived my life, whereas he’s been shuttled from one school to another by Daddy’s money, never having to work a day beyond perfecting his throw and submersing himself completely in football.
Yeah, I have money too. Now. Dad always had money since he inherited a fortune from my grandpa a couple of years after I was born, but for the most part, he made me work for mine, the motherfucker. He’d given me the restaurant just like his father had given him one long ago when I was a baby, when he left Mom, and after extensive training, he left me to my own devices. He’d come back into my life time and again, wanting us to work together, and I reluctantly agreed.
We’re so similar, it’s hard working with him. We clash constantly.
My mom took what he gave her, always muttering to me what a cheap jackass he was, though I know that’s not true. I don’t understand them, don’t understand how they fell in love and decided to marry in the first place. The two of them—especially now—make zero sense together.
They’re still freaking married, for Christ’s sake. I think she secretly wishes he’ll come back to her. I think he likes knowing that she’s there, waiting for him. Their relationship is sick and twisted. The push and pull between them. The arguments. No wonder I don’t want a relationship. Look at the example I’ve been given.
Yeah. My life is completely different from Drew’s. But maybe the guy could help me. It might not hurt to have a different perspective.
At the very least, Drew could help knock some sense into me because he seems like a sensible guy. He has to be to deal with Fable on a day-to-day basis. That woman is crazy. Crazy beautiful, crazy protective, crazy opinionated, crazy all of the above and then some, but the most loyal girlfriend I’ve ever witnessed.
You’re just irritated with Fable because she called you out on your shit.
True. She made me face things I really didn’t want to see.
I still don’t.
“So what did you want to talk about?”
I take a swig from my beer, glancing at Drew. “What makes you think I want to talk about something specific?” My voice is falsely jovial, as is my smile. We’re at a bar downtown, one not even close to my restaurant, a place where the college kids really don’t hang out. It’s geared more toward the older local guys who get out of work and are looking for a drink or two before they gotta go home and face reality. I chose the location on purpose, didn’t want any distractions.
“I guess we’re—friends, but it’s not like we hang out.” Drew frowns. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked me to meet you at a bar and have a few beers. We usually have the girls with us as a buffer.”
He’s right. We always have Fable and Jen with us.
“Fable’s angry with me,” I say, changing the subject. Slightly.
Drew nods, his expression grim. “I know. She’ll get over it. I told her she can’t tell everyone what to do.”
I’m shocked that he knows, but then again, I’m not. Those two tell each other everything. There are no secrets between them from what I can tell. “I think she’s mad at Jen, too.”
“She was, but they hashed it out or whatever earlier, and now everything’s fine.”
Well, hell. I had no idea. Of course, I haven’t seen or heard from Jen all day long. I’m sure she’s avoiding me. I can’t freaking blame her.
“I’m guessing everyone getting pissed at each other has to do with you and Jen?” Drew raises a brow, waiting for my answer, which he already knows.
I nod, feeling glum. “I should apologize.”
“It would help, I’m sure,” Drew says wryly.
Damn it. This is not how I envisioned myself, acting like a mopey jackass over a woman. I’m a take-charge kind of guy. I see something I want, I go after it. Usually. But for whatever reason, I deny myself when it comes to Jen.
Women are good only for some occasional relief. I don’t care about them or their feelings. I don’t have time to nurture a relationship. Whatever a woman wanted from me, I only gave her my physical self. My emotions, my thoughts? Those were always mine.
It’s so easy to fall into bed with a woman. Have sex, give each other pleasure. It’s the aftermath that scares me. That’s why I can’t chance it with Jen. She’s my friend first, and she f**king matters. I know I’d ruin it between us. Jen would want more than I could give. I’d disappoint her and she’d break it off with me. For good.
I can’t risk it.
“I plan on taking Jen to Sacramento tomorrow to help her look for an apartment, take her to a few job interviews she has lined up,” I say, keeping my gaze locked on the beer bottle in front of me, watching the neck sweat with condensation.
“And why the hell would you do that?”
I try not to react to the level calmness in Drew’s voice, but damn. The way he’s talking unnerves me. Being here, supposedly asking for his advice, sets me on edge. What the f**k am I doing?
“If I can’t keep her here with me, I may as well take her where she wants to go and help her,” I say quietly. Ice-cold shock washes over my skin at my admission. It’s one thing to have all of these thoughts bottled up inside me. It’s quite another to actually hear myself say the words out loud.
“Huh. I never figured you for a complete pussy.” Drew slouches over the counter, gripping his near-empty beer bottle and spinning it between his fingers.
Turning, I glare at him in disbelief. “What did you just say?”
Drew flicks his gaze at me, then looks away. “You heard me. I thought you had more balls than that, man. It’s one thing to let her walk out of your life. It’s a whole other thing to be the one behind the steering wheel, driving her the f**k out of here. No wonder Fable’s pissed at you.”
“I don’t understand why either of you would really give a shit,” I mutter, irritation flowing through my veins, firing my blood. He’s insulting my manhood, for the love of God! He called me a pu**y and said I had no balls.
Fuck that noise. I’m outta here.
“I am the absolute last person to give you advice,” Drew says just as I’m sliding off my bar stool. He knows I’m ready to bail, that I don’t want to hear what he has to say. “After all, I’m the idiot who ran from Fable when I should’ve been running to her.”
I pause, listening despite wanting to tell him to eat shit.
“If I could do it all over again, I would’ve been honest from the start. I would’ve told her what she meant to me. I would’ve never run, never pushed her away. I would’ve pulled her into my arms and never, ever let her go.”
Tilting my head, I keep my back to him, absorbing his words, the pain behind them. Those two suffered, I know that much. When I first hired Fable, I thought Drew was a bad influence on her. I thought he was some slick-talking as**ole ready to slide into her life, mess with her head, and then dump her.
Turns out he was the best thing that ever happened to Fable. They’re good for each other. Balance each other out. I would never say this out loud, but . . . I’m jealous of their relationship. They love each other fiercely, are so damn protective of each other.
I want that. Most likely I could have that. With Jen.
Could you? Could you really? Or have you already ruined it?
“I’m an asshole.” Slowly, I turn to face him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Because I’d have to agree.”
Drew smiles. “That’s not all I want you to take away from this, but yeah. Stop being an asshole. And stop denying yourself what you feel. Go with it. Be with her. You want to be with her, don’t you?”
I offer the tiniest nod in answer but can’t make a sound. Just the idea of confirming that I want Jen with actual words to another person chokes me up.
Having Jen means I need to open myself up to her completely. The thought of that is scary. What if she doesn’t like what she sees? What if I disappoint her? It could happen. I disappoint everyone in my life. My mom, my dad, Danny.
It’s easier to pretend she’s only my friend rather than admit I want more. The idea of her rejection scares the hell out of me.
“Then tell her. At the very least, show her.” He pauses. “She deserves it, after what she’s suffered. With the loss of Danny, and . . .” His voice trails off and I wonder what else he’s talking about.