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“Thank you so much!” the red-headed one says with a lustrous smirk.
“Yes, you’re totally a lifesaver,” the brunette beside her comments, looking me up and down. It’s obvious to me what the two of them are looking for this evening, not that I blame them. In this day and age, it’s ridiculous for someone to ridicule you for wanting sex. We all need something to relieve stress, and sex is my way of doing it as well. Only, I’m not looking to dive deep into anyone besides Emily. The more I think about it, the more I realize I can’t stomach the idea of her being with someone else.I need to talk to her about this soon. If I don’t, she might get involved with some random man who doesn’t deserve her.
The restaurant was closed for about a month while they completed new updates to the joint, so I, for one, am excited to see what they changed. I click the first level since that’s where I’m going and then look at the two women. “What floor?”
“The same level as you,” the brunette answers.
“Imagine that,” the redhead adds, then looks to her friend. They both smile like they have something up their sleeve.
Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the doors open. The ladies wait for me to go, but I extend a hand. “After you.”
“Oh, and a gentleman, too,” the brunette comments.
“I hope he isn’t a gentleman in the bedroom,” the redhead comments.
“Ladies, I understand you’re speaking in jest, but I’ll make things very clear right now. Neither of you is going home with me tonight,” I state very clearly to the two women and walk past them, heading straight for the front doors of Mason’s.
As I pull the door open, I’m surprised to see they’ve aged up the place quite a bit. They’ve changed out the older wooden floors with old hardwood. It looks like the slabs are made from hundred-year-old oak trees. The wood runs throughout the space, and the same wood that lines the bar is now on the back of the booths. The bar now extends another thirty feet at least, allowing more room for patrons and giving the bartenders a bigger space to work with.
I begin walking to the end of the bar when I hear a very familiar laugh. Turning my neck to the left, I spot Emily with some dude I don’t know. What the fuck? A growl forms in the center of my throat, and it’s taking every bit of strength inside me not to rush over there right now and demand answers. Then again, can I even demand any answers? It’s times like these I’m reminded we don’t have a label.
I continue to the bar and take a seat at the empty barstool around the corner, which gives me a great view of Emily and her friend.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks as he comes over.
“A vodka on the rocks would be fine, thanks.”
“Sure. You want me to open a tab?”
I nod and hand the man my card, and he takes it over and lays it on the back of the bar. I end up not even ordering any food because I’m so pissed right now. The bartender brings me my drink, and I finish it after a few minutes, then order a second one. I’m halfway through my second drink when I get a good idea. I’ve been watching Emily laugh and have a good time with her friend since I’ve been here, and to say my patience is wearing thin would be an understatement.
I put up a hand, and the bartender walks over. “Want another?”
“Yes, but I also want to order a whiskey sour for the brunette woman in that booth with the Asian guy,” I tell him, and the bartender immediately looks across the booths for the people meeting the description I’ve given him.
“All right. I’ll whip one up and get her waitress to take it over to her.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“You want a message to go along with it? Most people have something they want to say.”
“No, just tell her the man at the end of the bar sent it,” I tell him, and the bartender walks off.
I’ve been trying my best to not make any assumptions tonight, but it’s hard when the guy keeps grabbing onto her hand or brushing his hand along her arm. Who the fuck is this dude anyway?
After a couple of minutes, I spot a waitress taking Emily’s whiskey sour over, and I watch everything. I watch as she placesthe whiskey sour on her table and tells her who sent it. Emily looks around, and I wave my hand at her and smile. She doesn’t seem shocked that I’m here or even like it bothers her in the least bit. If the girl I was fucking saw me with another woman, I’d probably feel bad about it, but Emily doesn’t seem to have any remorse. Her eyes eventually widen a bit, and I get up from my barstool and head over to the booth she’s sitting in.
“Hello there, I’m Lom,” I extend a hand and introduce myself to the man she’s drinking with this evening. Everything about my voice tells them I’m pissed and that I’m a possessive son of a bitch, quite literally.
The man takes my hand and shakes, “I’m Kim, and you are who exactly?” Kim looks at Emily and then at me.
“I’d like to know the same about you, actually.” I raise my brows while my anger grows deep in my chest.
“I’m Emily’s co-worker. I work in the interior design department. Now, who are you?”
“I’m the man who’s fucking her, and seeing her here with another man isn’t exactly my cup of tea. So, shoot it to me straight. Are you fucking her, too, or are you trying to fuck her?” Emily gasps at my question, but I don’t dare look away from the man in front of me.
Kim laughs. “Emily and I got an internship around the same time. I can assure you, there’s nothing else going on here. She’s not exactly my type, but you are.” Kim looks me up and down, and I think this is all bullshit.
