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Back to the surroundings, I chew on my next step knowing that the window is closing fast.
“How the hell could yours suck?” That stupid smirk against the whiskey tumbler loses its playful nature, his eyes meeting mine for the first time.
There’s anger there, furrowing his brow, but something else lurks underneath.
Makes me want to punch him in his stupid curved nose.
Hello violence.
“You ever got what you wanted and not wanted it anymore?” he genuinely asks me like he doesn’t ruin lives every fucking day with his chiseled jaw and perfect fucking voice. “All this …” He pauses, spinning his stool to gesture out at the milling people and chiming games with his tumbler hand, the alcohol sloshing around the glass. “All this doesn’t fucking matter.”
Mimicking my stance, Rex turns fully to prop himself up on the bar but misses an elbow. More whiskey sloshes, breaching the surface of the glass and running down his arm.
Is he drunk?
“Oops.” Rex turns to catch the bartender’s attention, but he’s too late. “Shit.” A towel is already in hand and offered to the celebrity who responds with a sighed ‘thanks’.
As if it’s a fucking hardship to get preferential treatment.
“Yeah, it’s so terrible.” I’m being a sarcastic asshole, coupled with an eye roll and all.
Rex snorts. Wipes away at the shit running down his arm and pant leg.
“How dare the famous one express any woes.” Tossing the towel back on the bar, he snorts again and shoots back the remainder of his drink. He slams the glass to the bar and spins his stool to me, his eyes getting lost in the crowd. “Couldn’t be that I’m still a person behind the vocals.”
“So the fuck aren’t your one-night stands.” The opening is too perfect to pass it up. To perfect to bat back my rage and hold back that metaphorical bat I’m swinging in my head. The colordrains from his face, his gaze whipping so fast to me that I think he makes himself dizzy. I watch as the gears turn at my words, his narrowed eyes darting between mine in search of an answer he’s not going to get from me.
“You?” He questions after a moment, a fresh drink in his hand.
Scoffing is my best response.
“There enough that you’ve started to forget?”
He hangs his head.
“So many that you don’t remember the names?” My words grow louder with each syllable from my lips. “Or maybe you don’t even ask what their names are.” My bravado erupts the longer his head hangs in defeat. I stand to face him straight on. “Fucking look at me, Rex.”
Haunted. Defeated. His pale face encasing distant eyes come to meet my drilling gaze. His jaw ticks, his lips flattened against the words he utters.
“I’m sorry.”
Fury rips through me and I act before I think, the glass in my hand flying to the floor between us and shattering into a million tiny pieces. Shards kick up and nick my exposed skin, raining down on Rex’s boots.
“You fucking should be!” I snarl. Finger cocked and loaded, aiming right in his face like a drill instructor, I lunge closer to him. “You don’t fucking deserve her!”
I can already feel the arms wrapping around my waist to haul me out of this place, my feet leaving the ground.
That was longer than I thought it’d be.
I yell in his direction as someone carries me away, a thick arm wrapped around my midsection and cutting off my air. “Toxic fucking prick!”
“That’s enough of that!” The words boom in my ears as I’m dragged away, through throngs of people and onlookersto a secluded part of the venue—maybe someone’s office—and slammed into a chair. I haul my own load of oxygen into my lungs and grip the arms to keep from flying off the handle.
“Oh, hey Tiny.” I rasp after a loaded moment, lick my dried lips, and heave more air into my chest.
“You fucking played me.” A half-shrug is all I muster for the brick shit house blocking yet another door, looking beyond intimidating this time. Even to me.
“You fell for it.” I don’t succumb to the act though, I bet this guy is actually a teddy bear, which is why he let me pass before.
