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“Cool.”
Surely even the thirstiest of puck bunnies could catch the withering leave-me-alone embedded in my tone.
Sherry doesn’t.
Instead, she scoots closer to me, not-so-accidentally letting the swell of her breasts graze against my shoulder. It’s Puck Bunny 101, right out of the textbook: tease, give a little touch here, a giggle there, bat your eyelashes in time with the beat of the music. It’s all meant to entice.
It’s not working, though. The person I do want is miles away from here, probably sleeping. Hopefully dreaming of me.
I move so she’s not touching me anymore and drink my beer. Dante and Marcus are entertaining their chosen victims as choruses of giggles erupt again and again from their side of the table. Bastian turns and thumps off into the night without even trying to get the last word in. Good fucking riddance.
“Listen, I’m flying solo tonight,” I tell Sherry. “So you might as well go off and hunt something else.”
She bats her eyes at me again. It’s a miracle that the ten pounds of fake lashes that she’s wearing don’t keep them permanently closed.
“Oh, come on, Reese. Don’t you at least want to buy a lady a drink?”
“No.”
She recovers from her shock quickly, I’ll give her that. She seems flustered and confused for just half a second before she smiles wide again. “Well, if you’re not about drinking, maybe you’ll be… up for something else?”
She trails her fingers along the inseam of my pants. I wait for something to happen. For some kind of arousal to stir, maybe some interest to flicker.
There’s nothing.
Nothing but irritation.
I swat her hand away and stand up. Digging into my pocket, I pull out my wallet, fish out a handful of cash, and drop it on the table.
“If I wanted an easy lay for the night, I’d pay for one that knew how to take a hint.”
“Reese!” Marcus looks up at me. I can’t tell if he’s surprised I’m turning down free pussy or if he’s shocked I’d talk to a fan like that.
I don’t bother apologizing. “I’m outta here. Have fun, boys. This one’s name is Sherry. She’s cute, although she’s not all that bright.”
Then I’m gone.
I lied before, when I told Dante and Marcus that I don’t get bent out of shape for chicks. I’m bent right now, that’s for damn sure.
I’m so fucking bent out of shape I don’t know what to do with myself.
26
OLIVIA
“Mom, I’m just not sure what to do.”
Violet is in my arms. I bounce her up and down in a desperate rhythm hoping to get her to sleep. All day today, if she’s not crying, she’s screaming. If she’s not screaming, she’s whining.
I’ve never felt so helpless.
“She’s barely held any food down. Everything seems to upset her. I wouldn’t have called but, holy shit, I’m so tired.”
“Via,” my mother says calmly on the other end of the phone, “it’s okay. She’s probably teething. Is she warm?”
I press my palm to Violet’s chubby cheek. “She’s a little toasty.”
“Alright. Then she’s probably got some chompers coming in.”
