by R. S. Elliot
It’s not working anymore, Zach, because you’re the dick now.
I groan.
Another sip of bourbon fails to kill the ache, and I scan the room for the next best option. So not a brunette tonight. I just need someone distracting. Someone with fiery red hair, perhaps, to keep the fantasies of my own temptress in check.
The first woman to cross my gaze sits at the bar with a young blonde. Her friend’s back is to me, but I have a perfect view of the redhead in my crosshairs. She doesn’t notice me watching them at first. Her tiny nose wrinkles at the drink she’s been given. She exchanges some sort of joke with the bartender before passing it back. Her soft eyes sparkle in the dim lighting, and she smooths back the full mane of curls falling down around her eyes.
I could do with a little warmth, a little light-hearted humor. She seems carefree and easy-going. Nothing about her screams off-limits, or danger. Her smiling eyes flick past her friend’s shoulder to mine, and she stops.
A longing resurfaces. This could work. Maybe.
I take another sip, propping myself up with as much courage as I can muster. I don’t have to be in love with the girl. I just need a mind-blowing distraction.
I slam the empty glass down on the table and spin my chair away from the bar. Just as I am about to leap from my seat, another woman slips in beside me.
“Still drinking bourbon, Zach?” she asks.
Her voice holds me in place. This one I do recognize.
I face the blonde now seated beside me. Her soft brown eyes peek out at me beneath a half-lidded stare. She pouts her full, plush lips which are drenched in some shade of red that should be called the Devil’s sacrificial cherry. Or some such other ludicrous name. Long, slender legs extend from beneath a skirt that barely seems to cover her ass. Yet somehow she still leaves enough to the imagination.
A horribly lurid and tawdry imagination, but enough to grab any man’s attention. She is every bit the mistress of seduction I remember. The only thing missing is my desire to have her.
“Chloe,” I say cooly. “Nice to see you again.”
“I’m sure it is. You know we missed you at your father’s benefit last month.” She reaches for the drink she’s ordered, flashing the bartender a flirtatious smile before returning her attention to me. “I even wore a sexy red dress to capture your attention, but you didn’t show.”
“Red was always your favorite color. Not mine.” I wince. Doubtful.
“It wasn’t the dress so much as what was under it,” she says, pressing her lips against my ear. “Nothing. Same as now.”
I flex my grip, reminding myself that this woman is a trip into torrential waters I want no part of any longer. She takes the crazy ex-girlfriend status to a whole new level of insanity. There had never really been anything between us. Except for smoking hot sex and the assumption that she would take a place beside me in the family business.
Mergers. Business transactions. That’s all marriage is to these people.
I want no part of it.
“You look like you could use some company tonight,” she says. Her hand slides over my thigh.
I remain still. She knows exactly how to get me into her bed. She knows every trick and tease that makes me tick. I am tempted, for old times sake. Anything to remove Aly McKenzie from my thoughts.
“I’m lonely too, Zach,” she whispers against my ear, her lips near my throat. “No strings. Just you and me.”
I’m almost to the point of convincing myself this will work when my phone chimes.
Come get me, the text reads. It takes me a moment to realize who the message came from.
Aly.
What the hell is she up to?
What do you mean? I respond. Are you ok?
Chloe shifts beside me, unimpressed with my sudden interest in my phone. She leans into me, her hand climbing its way up my thigh and her lips leaving a seductive trail down my throat. I try to resist her, but my body is so confused. My mind is on Aly once again, wanting her touch instead of Chloe’s. Though all I have at the moment is Chloe, a woman well within my reach and not in danger of ruining us both.
I need you here with me.
I freeze. She can’t be in her right mind. I start to text back, but another message rolls in.
I want you now. Inside me.
My cock rises to the occasion like a faithful soldier ready to act on command. I inhale one steadying breath, closing my eyes to imagine anything else than being inside Aly McKenzie. Her body naked beneath mine, my hands over her breasts, her wet pussy tight around my cock. I groan.
She has to be drunk. Out of her mind. Something. There’s no way she would send me these messages.
Where are you? I write. Damn it.
San Francisco.
A sigh of relief washes over me. She isn’t far. Which means I could potentially reach her before she mistakes some other man for me and fucks his brains out. The thought lodges in my chest like an anchor. Though I know it isn’t fair to expect it, I don’t want to think of her with someone else.
I’m about to ask where in San Francisco when the thought bubble on my phone forms another message.
The Blue Indigo.
That’s only a couple blocks away. I jump down from the barstool. Chloe nearly topples forward and out of her own chair.
“Another time, maybe,” I say and rush out the door.
Chapter Ten
Zach
After a ten-minute cab ride, I make it to the entrance of the Blue Indigo.
A Goliath-sized man guards the entrance, his arms intertwined against his chest like two enormous anacondas suffocating their prey. His shoulders cover the expanse of the doorway, with his head cresting the top door jamb. I’m six feet two, and even I feel small in comparison to this behemoth. I approach the door, ignoring this colossus and the line of people waiting to get into the club.
“Where do you think you’re going, sir?” the giant says. His voice sounds like something used to animate a cartoon warlord.
“I need to get in there,” I explain. “My friend, I think she’s sick.”
The bouncer shows no emotion whatsoever. His eyes aren’t even looking at me. If he hadn’t spoken to me directly, I would have assumed he hadn’t seen me at all. “Man, if I had a dime for every time I heard that one.”
“Look, it’s real. I just need to make sure she’s alright.” And not making out with some random stranger.
“You can wait in line with everyone else.”
I sigh.
At least it’s somewhat comforting to know that not everyone in this town knows who I am. Only this time, it’s actually more inconvenient than it is endearing. Is he going to make me do this? Am I going to have to play that do-you-know-who-I-am card? The last thing I want to do is prick up any ears and end up in the tabloids with one of my students. I can see the headline now: Hawthorne Heir Caught Liquoring Up His Student in Late Night Prowl.
But I have to get to Aly. There’s no telling what trouble she could be in, while I’m out here contemplating whether I want to stoop to using my connections and wealth.
“Is Lionel still the owner?” I ask finally.
“I dunno, man,” Goliath says without looking at me. “I just show up when they need someone.”
It’s worth a try. Lionel owns half the clubs in San Francisco. I’m pretty sure he’s mentioned this one once or twice. It takes a two-minute phone conversation and another minute of my time convincing Lionel not to fire Goliath on the spot before the door swings open and I’m allowed through.
The inside is a blur of blue lights and crowds of people awkwardly interacting with one another. Aly could be anywhere in here, and I wouldn’t even begin to know where to look. She hasn’t texted me in almost fifteen minutes. I tell myself this isn’t a long time to wait for a response. Under any normal circumstances, I would seem desperate. But I don’t know how much she’s had to drink, whether she had the good sense to come with anyone or not, or who she’s with at the mom
ent.
I arrive at the bar. It’s doubtful the bartender will be able to help. This isn’t an episode of Law and Order, and the man looks so overworked I’m convinced he’s taking shots under the table. But I have to start somewhere. “I’m looking for a redhead.”
He raises his hands upward. “Look, pal. We don’t offer that kind of service here. Just get me your drink order.”
“No.” I grit my teeth.
His response was so flawless, I wonder how many times he gets asked that in a night. “She’s a friend of mine. Short. Blue eyes, long red hair.”
He shakes his head, pouring drinks for another customer as he continues to talk. “She could have warts and an eye patch. I wouldn’t remember her. I’ve been slinging drinks all night, I can’t keep up with the faces.”
The bartender passes the finished drinks in his hands to another customer, then quickly sets to work with another order. I don’t know why I thought he might be able to help. I text Aly again. Maybe this time she’ll respond.
“Actually.” The bartender moves back into view, still pouring and tossing the drinks. He searches his memory, miming flipping through the files in his mind with one hand as if it helps him think. “I think, I do remember her. Completely wasted, right?”
I clench my jaw. Fuck. How bad is it? “Possibly.”
“Yeah, that I remember. We have to cut them off at a certain point.” He pauses for emphasis. “Girl was hammered. Anyway, her and the guy she was with went to sit down over there. I told security to keep an eye on it.”
The guy she was with?
I follow the location the bartender directed me toward. My heart rate spikes, swelling in my throat like a chunk of meat. What guy? It’s possible she could have come here with someone. Just because we kissed doesn’t mean she doesn’t have other dates. But if she did have someone with her, why would she have texted me? Why would she have said those things if she could have just had another man take care of it?
The aching in my throat slides down into my stomach. It clenches around my intestines like a vice. I don’t want to think of another man touching her, kissing her. Yet, for all I know, she’s here with some other man, and I can’t just barge in and demand she come home with me instead.
A small sitting area comes into view with couples lined up along the cushions with no regard for spectators. I see her, finally, standing beside some guy with his arm around her. He leans in to kiss her neck, but she pushes him away. Heat flares up in my chest. This man doesn’t know it yet, but this is not going to be a very good night for him.
I’m finally close enough to hear them.
“I want to go home,” she says, her voice weak and raspy, almost like she’s been screaming all night.
“Alright, baby,” the man says, and lifts her up off the couch. “Let’s go get you in a cab.”
She doesn’t look steady on her feet at all. How much did the girl have to drink? I couldn’t have upset her this much, could I? I intercept them just as they pass along a small walkway to the exit.
“Hey, buddy. I’ve got this,” I say, appearing on the opposite side of Aly and taking her arm.
The man jerks her away from me. “I don’t think so. The girl is coming home with me.”
“I don’t think that’s what she said she wanted.”
It’s taking all of my restraint at this point not to grab him by the shirt and toss him across the room. The video of a Hawthorne pummeling a sleazy son of a bitch would go viral in minutes. Not to mention the lawsuit. It’s almost worth it if he plans to do what I suspect he is, and equally as relieving to remove that smug grin off his face.
“Zach?” Aly says beside me. She sounds half-asleep.
“You know each other?” the man asks.
“Yeah.” I slip my arm around her waist and pull her against me. This time more forcefully, taking advantage of his confusion. “I’ve got her now, so you can go.”
“Wait a minute-”
He steps forward, and an instinct takes hold of me. I slam my hand into his chest, backing him up against the wall behind him and bracing him in place with my arm. He’s as surprised by the motion as I am, though I have no intention of backing down at this point. “Walk away.”
He nods, shaken, and scurries off like the rat he is.
“Zach.” The voice beside me softens the tension in my muscles. Her body slackens in my arms, limp like a plush toy.
“You okay?” I ask, and lead her toward the exit.
“I don’t feel well.”
“I can see that. Maybe only have one or two drinks next time.”
“I only had one drink.”
I still. She can’t be that much of a lightweight. “What did you drink?”
“I don’t remember,” she says groggily. Her head rests against my chest. “I think a rum and coke. Lyndsey ordered it for me.”
I stop. So she did come with someone else. “Who’s Lyndsey?”
“My roommate.”
This changes things. I can’t take off with her and leave her friend here. How would that look? It’s already looking shady enough.
“Is she here with you still?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She nods. She’s almost asleep on my chest. I prop her up and nudge her to keep her awake for just a few seconds more.
“Can you call her? Send her a message?” I hold her out by her shoulder in front of me. She’s still close, but I can see her face. She’s almost completely asleep, so I shake her gently. “Do you know where she’s at?”
Aly gathers enough energy to text Lyndsey and tells her where we are. I wait with Aly pressed against my side for support. She weighs practically nothing, and the top of her head barely meets my shoulder. So fragile for once, unlike any other time I’ve ever seen her before. This same woman laid into me on the first day we met, unafraid to let me know how she felt about the community she clearly loves. She took no time in defending her proposal, in practically fighting me tooth and nail to make sure I believed in her cause as well.
Now, here she is, so vulnerable and helpless. And I’m the one who gets to take care of her, to ensure her safety. A shiver glides down my spine.
What might have happened if she hadn’t texted me?
“Who are you?” A blonde stands in front of us, clearly irritated. Her aggressive stance triggers warnings of danger. Like she just might kill me if I don’t release her friend.
I contemplate the best way to introduce myself. Saying I’m Aly’s professor probably won’t make this situation appear legit either. Nor would announcing myself as a customer of hers at Home Depot.
“This is Zach,” Aly supplies for me instead.
“You?” Recognition flashes across the blonde’s face. So, Aly’s mentioned me?
The sheer masculine pride welling in my chest disintegrates as the blonde’s eyes narrow into thin, black slits. “What are you doing here?”
Ah. So she has talked about me...and, apparently, left nothing out.
“Aly called me,” I explain. I leave the dirty details for my own private thoughts. “Though I don’t think she’ll remember it.”
Concern replaces the look of pure rage. “Oh my god. What did you do to her?”
“Ow.” Pain tears through my arm. Not the one holding Aly at least, and I maintain my grip. I stare down at the small, bejeweled purse in Lyndsey’s hand. I’ll be feeling those tiny fucking rhinestones into next week. “Nothing. She said she only had one drink. What the hell did you order her?”
Lyndsey places her hands on her hips. Her dark eyes level over me in a silent challenge. She is significantly taller than Aly, almost nose to nose with me. “A rum and coke. Light on the rum. She’s a total lightweight. Not this light, though.”
“She needs to lie down,” I say, and start to move toward the door again. “Get some rest.”
Lyndsey steps in front of us. “Look, you’re not taking her anywhere in this condition.”
“Agreed. So why don’t you come with us.”
&n
bsp; “Where exactly? She can’t ride the bus back like this.”
I run my palm across my forehead. “I have a place here.”
“You just randomly have a place in the city?”
I groan. I really don’t have time to explain this now. “Yes. We can take a cab.”
We exit the club, and I immediately look for the nearest cab. Usually, they’re parked all along the streets at this time, waiting like hawks to collect their next profit. But at the moment, there’s nothing.
“You think we should take her to the hospital?” Lyndsey asks.
“I’ll call someone to come take a look at her.” I motion toward Aly. “Do you think you can manage for a minute?”
Lyndsey nods, and we roll Aly from my side to Lyndsey’s shoulder. Finding a cab takes a matter of seconds, and within the next minute, we are headed to my apartment home. Aly is now completely passed out, sitting between us, and shifting from my shoulder to Lyndsey’s.
We ride in silence.
Deafening, guilt-filled silence. I can just imagine what Aly’s roommate must be thinking, wondering how I might try to take advantage of this situation. She isn’t blaming me for this, is she? I was just the one who stepped in and stopped things from getting worse. If I were truly trying to get away with something, I wouldn’t have insisted Aly call her roommate to come with us.
Why am I even trying to convince myself I wasn’t in the wrong? I know I did the right thing. Why do I need convincing?
Because deep down, you know this is wrong. She’s your student.
I look down at Aly. The relaxed state of her features soothes me. At least she’s safe. That’s all that matters. It would be better if I knew just what Aly had shared with her friend. Though that doesn’t seem like information the woman glaring at me from over her friend’s head wants to share at the moment.
“What exactly did Aly say to you?” she asks finally.
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “I could tell she wasn’t in the right state of mind.”