It’s a favourite of Ryker’s, who values toilet stalls over prices. According to him the cubicles are particularly sturdy and provide an acoustic echo of his name. On more than one occasion, I’ve heard his name being shrieked from a stall while entering the bathroom to use it for its intended purpose. The bar is next to Achilles, the one and only gay nightclub in town.
I buy one beer, then sit hunched over at the bar, wanting to be left alone. My solitude lasts for ten minutes before a woman approaches. She introduces herself, and I shake her hand before offering to buy her a drink.
I realise while ordering her a beer that I hadn’t caught her name, but I have a gut feeling it begins with an A. I don’t ask forit again. One flash of my thick wallet and Amy, Abby, or possibly Annie, slams herself down on the stool beside me.
I tell her I’m not a talker, and she replies she could talk enough for the both of us.
God is she right.
The droning chatter helps me zone out, though, and it stops me replaying the moment I stepped into the bedroom over and over.
Amy, Abby, Annie, whatever, is pretty with straight, platinum-blonde hair, red lips, and smoky eyes. The dress she wears is figure hugging, and every inch of the black fabric refuses to let go of her curves. I catch the envious glance from a man at the opposite end of the bar as I sip my beer, and I think, why not?
If she wants to come back to whatever hotel I find for the night, I’ll let her.
She might take my mind off everything.
I stiffen when she leans in to deliver a kiss to my cheek. It leaves a sticky residue.
“What was that for?”
She winks. “To cheer you up. There are plenty available if you want more.”
I don’t miss her quick glance at my wallet on the bar. She obviously thinks I’m super successful from the wad of money in my wallet, and I have no desire to reveal that isn’t the case.
She’ll find out later when we arrive at the budget hotel. It’ll be the kind of place where cash is better to use than card, to prevent scammers draining your bank account. Amy can decide then whether she wants to go through with sleeping with me or not, but for now I bask in her intense eye contact and the whiff of her sweet perfume every time she plays with her hair.
And that’s when Ryker comes into the bar with his latest conquest in tow—a pretty redhead with freckles across his noseand cheeks. The guy is a full foot shorter, and he gazes up at Ryker like he’s the moon and the stars. His fingers are linked with Ryker’s on his shoulder, securing Ryker’s arm across the back of his neck, and I spy a possessive grip from him and a relaxed one from Ryker.
“Do you know them?” she asks.
I shake my head.
Please don’t see me.
But of course, Ryker does, and he swaggers over with his arm draped across the man’s shoulders, cocky smile intact but a frown marring his brow. His eyes ask questions I refuse to answer, and I break our stare to take a of swig of beer. I’ve been sitting here so long that the bottle has been warmed by my palm.
Without the cold all I taste is the bitterness.
“Freddie?”
Ryker says my name like he’s not sure, like I might not be who he thinks I am. His arm slips from his companion’s shoulders and falls back to his side. The pretty redhead lifts his eyebrows at the retreat of Ryker’s arm. He glances at his shoulder as if there’s a sudden chill without him and claws at his skin. Poor guy. He’d been picked for the night, but Ryker’s changing his priorities when faced with me slumped over a bar with a lipstick mark on my cheek.
It’s a shame he couldn’t change them days, weeks, or months ago when I still needed him.
“We were just leaving,” I say, then finish the rest of my bottle with a grimace. Amy—she looks more like an Amy—slips off her bar stool and hits Ryker with a dazzling smile. Her mouth smeared when she kissed me, blurring her carefully applied lipliner.
I hope Ryker notices.
“Have a fun night.” She winks playfully.
Ryker stares at her, then back to me. His cocky smile vanishes, and he looks like Liam. He stands like Liam, no longer loose and carefree, but stiff and watchful.
I gesture with a dismissive flick of my hand for him to move aside.
“I don’t fucking think so,” Ryker says as he steps closer. The redhead eyes the distance between them with panic on his face.
Ryker doesn’t notice, but I do.
