“Two lemon drop martinis,” Jack orders.
I wait for him to speak.
“My friend is harmless.”He decides to carry on with his subject.And I soon see why.“He sees a pretty girl and forgoes his manners.”
Oh, he’s smooth.Playing the nice guy card and giving me a sly compliment to gauge my response in the same breath.If it’s positive, he knows he’s not wasting his time.He’s done this before.
I smile.“I’m sure there are lots of pretty girls in here.”
“Yes.There is.But you seem to have”—he ponders as if searching for the right word, before settling on—“an innocence about you.Why are you here?This doesn’t seem like your vibe.And I mean that as a compliment.You’re better than the jocks and bimbos in here.”
“Well, the same can be said about you,” I reply, keeping eye contact.“Are you inadvertently telling me that you’re a…bimbo?”
A slanted grin tugs at his thin lips as my jab amuses him.“I knew you were different.”
And he says this because I’m not falling over myself.He sees me as a challenge, one he wishes to break.And when he shifts closer, ensuring our knees touch, he makes clear his eyes are set on the prize and that he won’t take no for an answer.
“How about we get out of here?”Straight to the point, that’s how confident he is.
I attempt to act coy.“I hardly know you.”
“Well, what do you want to know, baby?”He oozes arrogance and self-importance.
“Why me?You don’t look like the type to be lacking female company.”
The bartender places our drinks on the bar.Jack slides a glass toward me.
“You’re right.I’m not, and that’s the reason I want you.You’re not attempting to impress me or want to know me because of who my family is.”
His arrogance shines through that comment, as he’s implying he’s important.This has no doubt worked in the past.
Me?
I just want to punch him in the throat.
“Well, I have no idea who your family is.But how about you tell me all about them at your house.”I shyly smile.
Jack nods and raises his glass.“I’ll drink to that.”
I don’t want to raise any suspicions, so I toss back the cocktail in one mouthful.Jack grins and does the same with his drink.
He stands, taking my hand and escorting me through the bar.
I know without looking that Kit is following, but for this to work, we need to leave and get to a private place.I suspected he would take me to his house, which is where Kit and I can strike.
So far, this is going to plan.
We step outside, and the moment I see some Euro-trash car, I know it belongs to Jack.We walk toward it, and when he opens the door for me, I get in, faking astonishment at his ugly-as-fuck sports car.
He shuts the door, and I watch as he rounds the hood and gets into the driver’s side.He starts the car and drives off with haste.He looks over at me with a smug grin.If I were impressed by this flashy crap, I would be captivated, but this merely displays what a loser Jack Bloom really is.
“Are you hot?”he asks, fiddling with the controls on the console.
“No.”But I soon realize that a heat is creeping up my neck.
I ignore it, however.
I need to confirm whether Lisp is actually Jack.Although I suspect it’s him, only a confession from Jack will prove it.The need to smash his head against the steering wheel is overwhelming, but I refrain until we get back to his house.
