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"I'm going out with some friends for the night," I tell her—which is only partially a lie. I'm not entirely sure if the guys at the White Oak are my friends or if they're just wealthy acquaintances. It's hard to tell in the big city. "Dinner was leftovers, as usual."
"I really need to send you a few easy recipes," she says. What she doesn't say hurts the most: Amanda used to cook most of the time, didn't she? What are you going to do without her?
"Well...anyway, I'll let you get back to dinner," I say. "Sorry to interrupt."
"You're never an interruption, Ryan," she says. "I love you, sweetheart."
"Love you, too," I say. "Tell Dad I said hi."
I hang up and sigh, then I lay on the horn as someone swerves in front of me from the lane to my right. "Damn it!" I shout. "Learn to drive!"
Yeah...I really need to get away.
Twenty minutes later, I'm pulling into the parking garage under the White Oak Society's high-rise building, walking to the elevator, then scanning my membership fob at the console. My shoulders only start to relax when the doors slide open, and the hostess appears at the end of the hall, the club beyond. The hostess—Sophia, a gorgeous redhead who always seems to be one step ahead of the action—greets me with a smile.
"Good evening, Mr. Wright," she says. "Your usual table is available. Mr. Ramos said he would be meeting you?"
I look over her shoulder to find Diego, a tall guy with dark hair and a glass of whiskey, waving his hand from our usual booth.
"Yep," I say with a smile. "I think I can find him on my own."
"Suit yourself," Sophia says with a demure smile, then gestures behind her as she gets back to work.
I walk toward Diego, looking back at Sophia as I go. We're told as soon as we get our membership that we're not supposed to flirt with the waitresses—this is not a gentleman's club, which is made very clear in the few rules we're given—but it's hard not to notice that girl. The redhead is always the first thing I see when I walk in the door, always looking perfectly put together, always smiling. And shit...I have eyes, after all.
I'll look, but I'll never touch, never tell her.
Looking is enough.
Sophia catches my gaze for a brief moment as I pass by and flashes me one of her famous smiles before turning away again, making my heart skip a beat momentarily. I could spend hours just watching her work—admiring every little detail about her graceful movement and presence—if only time would allow me to do so.
Diego gives me a sly smile when I sit across from him with a sigh, taking the special drink menu he offers me. He's got a glass of his own in hand, and I tilt my chin at it.
"What are you drinking?"
"Whatever Trip recommended...ah, and here's the man himself," Diego says, looking up at the sommelier headed our way. "Trip, care to explain tonight's specials to Mr. Wright here?"
Trip grins and comes closer, nodding his head. "Ryan," he says.
"Trip," I nod back. "We don't need to do all the formalities, Diego."
"It's all part of the fun, though, isn't it?" Diego chuckles. "So... what’s on tap tonight?"
Trip flips the menu open, tapping his finger on an entry on the first page. "Laphroaig 25-Year Single Malt Scotch," he says. "Aged for twenty years in oak casks, producing a smooth, smoky flavor with notes of seaweed and peat smoke."
"That sounds delicious," I say, leaning back in my chair. "What else do you have?"
"We've got Woodford Reserve Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey for those looking for something a bit sweeter," Trip replies eagerly. He seems to relish talking about these drinks as much as he likes to drink them himself. "This whiskey is aged for several years in charred American white oak barrels, giving off honey and vanilla aromas with hints of cherries and tobacco."
Cherries...I don't know why, but even the mention of cherries reminds me again of the redhead at the front, and I glance over at her. I don't think Trip notices, but Diego certainly does, giving me a pointed smirk.
"I'll have that one," I say. "The uh...the cherry one."
Trip nods. "I'll be right back."
As Trip leaves, Diego leans in conspiratorially. "So, anything new and exciting in your life?" he asks. "I'm sure Amanda's absence must be felt."
"Straight for the gut, huh?" I ask.
