Ones who tell me how amazing I am to my face but would literally stab me in the back for even a quarter of what I have.
Ones who hadn’t even noticed or cared when I snuck out of my own birthday party.
Golden had been shut down to the public for the night to accommodate the event. The attached sex club that was hidden behind locked doors and guards was also closed to its elite members for the night.
Not that it being closed had stopped Easton—my lawyer and friend.
He’d waited until the party was in full swing before steering his woman toward that locked entrance. They would undoubtedly be occupying one of the private rooms for a while.
Lucky fucking bastard.
Had he been at the bar, he would’ve cut off my escape. He was always doing his best to save me from myself.
Cohen also would’ve noticed, but he hadn’t been able to resist jumping in to help his staff with the food and drinks.
His brother—who co-owned Golden and Gilded—was out of town chasing a bounty.
And that was it.
End of my pathetic list.
Three whole people who would’ve noticed me leaving.
Who would’ve asked if I was okay.
Who actually would’ve cared about the answer.
And I would’ve cared enough to laugh it off and lie.
Because the truth was that I wasn’t okay.
I was wallowing in my woe-is-me, poor-little-rich-boy bullshit. Drinking away my… pain? No, that wasn’t right. I didn’t feelpain. Or pleasure, for that matter. Even the bump of blow I’d done hadn’t brought me a thrill or a buzz.
I was numb.
I was drinking away my numbness.
Deciding to get a better view, I climbed up on the rough brick ledge.
And fell backward onto the roof, landing with a hard bounce that knocked the air from my lungs.
Oh shit.
I stayed on my back for a minute to catch my breath as I checked my camera to make sure that it hadn’t hit the ground. It took my sluggish brain a few long moments to even consider how easily I could’ve tumbled the other way.
The three-story building was much shorter than the high-rises in the area, but those three stories would be enough to do damage to my body and my camera.
That would’ve sucked for Atlas and Cohen’s insurance premiums if I’d fallen the other way.
That passing thought was all I gave the possibility. My heart didn’t start racing with fear or adrenaline. No sweaty palms. No clenched gut.
I was only concerned with my camera and the ramifications for my friends.
Pushing onto my unsteady legs, I sat on the ledge instead of attempting to stand. I hung my legs over the side and lifted my camera to my face, clicking random pictures of shitty Christmas lights I wasn’t even sure I was seeing correctly through myblurry haze. I aimed the lens toward the street and scanned before stopping on a couple on the sidewalk.
I moved my focus from the viewfinder to watch on the little screen as they paused at the corner, their heads bowed together, and their faces illuminated by the light from the phone screen. My lip curled as they bickered, each pointing a different direction.
Yes, strangers, my disdain extends to you, too.
