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Suddenly struck with embarrassment, I sit up and button my uniform, then pull on my coat. I can’t do anything about the panties. They’re destroyed. I don’t know what to say to him.
“That was great, babe. Do you need a ride home?”
Tyler’s words take a moment to process. “What do you mean?” I choke out.
“My buddies are going to come searching for me soon. But I can have our driver give you a ride home before he comes back for us.”
My embarrassment morphs into total mortification. I’ve just given my virginity to a man who has no clue who I am. He doesn’t even know my name. He’s so drunk he probably couldn’t pick me out of a lineup. What in the world was I thinking? Oh, right. I wasn’t thinking.
“No. I have transportation,” I say. I need to get away from this man before he sees me cry.
“Are you sure? You did have a couple of drinks,” he says, though he’s still opening the door of the limo.
“I’m not driving,” I tell him. I follow him out onto the pavement without any assistance. When I step outside, the streetlight illuminates his face, a face I’ve dreamed about for the past nine years.
“Thanks again, doll. That was great.”
He leans forward and kisses me, a quick kiss. He turns and makes his way back inside the gentleman’s club... without a look back.
It takes a few moments for my feet to move, and when they do, I feel numb all over. Surprisingly, no tears fall as I walk to the bus, get on, and ride the route home. I don’t even cry once I get there.
When the numbness wears off, rage takes its place. If ever there’s an opportunity, I’ll return the favor of making Tyler feel like a used piece of trash. He’s obviously destined to burn in hell, and I’ll make hell come sooner than anyone might expect, if I have my way.
ChapterThree
Tyler
Eight Years Later
“You’ve become boring in your old age.”
A remark like this from my best friend? What’s the world coming to? I shoot the guy a look no one can interpret as friendly, pick up my drink, and down the rest before I bother to reply.
“It’s called growing up, Matt. We all have to at some point.”
“If growing up is so much fun, you can count me out,” Matt tells me before scanning the room.
“I hardly expect you to ever do such a reasonable thing,” I tell him. “I know you too well.”
“You and I are only thirty, Tyler. It’s not as if we have one foot in the grave.”
“There are days I feel like I do, Matt. Work can be draining, all-consuming.”
“If you’d let your hair down once in a while, old boy, maybe you wouldn’t be so damn miserable. All work and no play makesyouincredibly dull.”
“I can’t win, can I? If I go out on the town too much, the papers label me an effing playboy. If I stay out of the tabloids and devote myself to hard work, I’m a hermit. You can all piss off,” I say, holding up my hand for a refill. The bartender should be more on top of his job.
“No one ever said life’s easy,” Matt says with a laugh. “Why don’t you find a girl and take her to your room and fu — oops, I mean make love until the morning light breaks through the windows?”
“Make love? And they say I’m the romantic one in my clan,” I snicker.
“I’m trying to be sophisticated,” Matt replies. “After all, we’re in a higher-class bar right now.”
“And whose damn idea was that?” I ask, scanning the room with distaste. A good rowdy pub is far more my style, or at least it was until last year, when I decided to try growing up a little more. Or to look as if I’ve grown up.
Maybe I do need to get laid. It’s been a while — way too long. When was the last time I had a woman moaning beneath me? That I have to search my memory tells me it’s past time todosomething. I need a good lay.
I often fight with my brothers, telling them love is real, that it can be achieved, but my last relationship ended in disaster. Total disaster. I was willing to give the woman a six-carat diamond along with my heart... until I found her in the broom closet at my oldest brother’s wedding — with the bellhop.
