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Chapter Twelve
Dane
Present Day
I takea drag and hold the smoke in my lungs, letting it ease away the memories and the anxiety that arose with them before blowing them out in a cloud of smoke.
I still act like the seventeen-year-old kid who packed his bags and left the only family he had. Granted, I didn’t go far. But at the age of seventeen, it was far enough. I got out of my dad’s house and his rules. Looking back now, maybe I should’ve listened. I was throwing my life away for a girl. A girl that led me to believe she cheated on me with my best friend.
I took my life and flushed it down the toilet for her. And for what? For this? A life running the damn bar my dad left me? Drinking myself to sleep every night? Taking home girl after girl, promising them I’ll call, knowing damn well I won’t? I could’ve gone somewhere, done something with my life. But when I lost Alissa, I lost everything.
I lost the love of my life, and in turn, I gave up the rest of it. I quit music, I quit love, I quit life. Traded it all in for a lonely existence, just waiting for someone to come put me out of my misery.
I take one more drink before tucking the bottle away in the bottom drawer. Stubbing out my cigarette, I push away from the desk. I sway to the door and smack the light switch off as I pass. My vision is blurry and doubling as I make my way toward the front of the bar. The crowd around me is going full force, but I’m done for the night. All I need now is a girl to keep the memories away and preferably, a ride home.
I sit down at the bar. I know it won’t take long. Wendy passes me a bottle of water, and I hold it up, confused as to why she gave me water, she knows what I drink.
“Sober up. You’re going to kill yourself drinking like that.” She offers up a small smile before walking away.
With a twist, I uncap the water and take a sip just as a pretty redhead takes the empty barstool next to me. I turn and flash her the smile that’s always gotten me whatever I wanted with women.
She smiles back seductively and pushes her red curls behind her ear. “I’m Lisa,” she says leaning in.
“Dane,” I reply.
She turns toward me. “I know. You own this place, right?”
I nod, forgetting that everyone in this town knows me and not for the best of reasons. “That’s right. Are you from around here?”
Her porcelain skin flushes pink as she crosses her legs, brushing mine with her own. “Not really. I’m from a few towns over. I come here a lot though.”
I’m getting really tired of the small talk already. Time to pull out the big guns. “What do you say to spending the night at my place?” I offer up the grin I know she can’t deny.
Her eyes flash around the bar, making sure nobody is listening, before they land on mine again. She looks me up and down, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth. “What’s in it for me?”
I shrug. “I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself, if only for one night.” My eyes zero in on hers, and I’ve sold it. I stand, sure of myself and my skills before holding out my arm for her to take.
She stands like I knew she would and wraps her arm around mine. I lead her from the bar and into the parking lot.
* * *
“Oh, you play guitar?”Lisa asks as I lead her into the living room of my house.
“Not anymore. I used to.” I spin around to face her. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
She sits down on the red sofa, crossing her legs and drawing up her black dress to show more leg. “I’m fine, I must have had too much to drink already. I don’t ever do this,” she says blushing and averting her eyes.
Internally, I laugh. I know for a fact she’s done this on more than one occasion. I know because, like she said, she comes to my bar a lot. I’ve seen the countless men she’s left with. I don’t point that out though. I may be drunk, but I’m not stupid.
I cross the room and take a seat beside her, letting my eyes run up those long legs of hers. They travel over her hips, up to her full chest, and land on her eyes. Looking into a woman’s eyes is something a lot of men like me avoid—men who like to fuck around and have a good time. They think the woman can see into their souls, see their true intentions or some shit. But not me. I always give the women I’m with exactly what they want.
A show for a night.
They don’t want me to know they’re hoping this turns into something. Each one thinks she’ll be the exception, the one who changes me. Little do they know, I’ve already been changed by a woman, and this is what’s left. As much as they talk, they have to know what coming home with me is like.
It’s fun for a night. No expectations. No relationships. No guarantee for a future together. All they get is me, for one night only.
The eye contact does exactly what I hoped it would. She feels she can trust me now, like I’m not hiding anything from her.
