Lib Novel Page 91
“Hey, sweetheart.” I lift my chin. “How you’ve been?”
“Good.” She glances shyly over at the bar. “I brought my friend Kristen with me tonight.”
I follow her line of sight and a pretty blonde in a white dress smiles at us. Lala waves her over.
“I thought the three of us…” Lala lets the idea hang in the air. When I don’t pick up the thread, she flutters her lashes a few times. “Could have fun together.”
“No thanks.”
Her face falls.
“I just came to talk to Hustler,” I say as nicely as I’m capable. It must still sound hostile because her eyes gloss over with tears.
“Okay.” She sniffles and shuffles away.
“Why are you here for ten seconds and already making bunnies cry?” Grip walks up and claps a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Fuck off.” I’m not in the mood for his shit tonight, either.
“That girl Kristen’s really sweet.” He makes this disgusting chef’s kiss gesture, complete with lip-smacking. “You see her giant tits?”
“Well, have at it. Lala’s looking for a three-way with her.”
His eyebrows shoot up with interest. “You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. Godspeed, brother.”
The noise around me rises to an intolerable level. I bump Eazy’s arm. “I’m gonna grab a drink.”
He follows me to the bar. A girl I don’t recognize is handing out beer and sodas. None of the fancy cocktails with cutesy names Serena used to make when she helped out here—before she met Grinder.
I flick my gaze to the rows of liquor bottles lining the back wall of the bar area and the mirror behind them. Through the sketchy lighting I catch a glimpse of a man I barely recognize. Unshaven, grim face. Eyes dark with regret I can’t shake.
Bonnie braces her hands against the bar and leans over. “What do you need, Jiggy?”
Nothing behind that bar. “A Coke is fine, hon. Thanks.”
A few seconds later, she passes me a red can. I take a sip, still rooted in place, staring at my reflection like it’ll give me answers.
All I see is a man surrounded by the life he knows who wants a woman that makes him question everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Margot
It’s been weeks since my last “class” with Jigsaw. Ugh. It feels stupid and desperate that I’m actually calling it that. Especially after he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I’ve been tiptoeing around my own thoughts so I don’t dwell on why he’s been so distant. Anything to avoid triggering an avalanche of insecurities.
Why did I have to start feeling something for him—thinking it could be more than physical?
He’s sent me a few texts here and there—short, casual, meaningless. Like he’s sending them to some random woman he’s trying to let down easy. Nothing suggests he’s thinking about our lessons. It’s like he dropped me at the curb, and I’m getting more and more distant in his rearview mirror.
Am I overthinking things? Overreacting? I’m the one who asked for the lessons. Is he waiting for me to tell him I’m ready for another one?
Damn. Why is this so difficult?
Imagine how awful it’d be if this had been a genuine relationship.
I’m actually out of the house for once. On my way to meet my friend April to attend a class on The Modern Cremation Customer. Not exactly enthralling stuff, but necessary to keep my license. Except for the annual convention held at a casino a few hours west of us, my father prefers to do as many of these courses as he’s allowed online. I still prefer in-person lectures whenever I can. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet an under-thirty-five single guy while I’m there.