Dar eagerly welcomes one of the dancers onto her lap. By scooting down in the black leather booth, she gives him more room for straddling her legs. She winks in my direction and then smiles as he lifts himself from her lap to thrust his crotch upward. His skin gleams in the pulsating lights as he grooves to the music. His tight muscles flex to accommodate the movements.
When Dar tries to tip him, he takes her dollar bills and stuffs them into her cleavage. “Your birthday present, sweetheart,” he purrs through a sly grin, probably the same one he uses to get a woman to do practically anything he wants. My hat is off to him, so to speak. Having the ability to hold that much power over someone at a single glance is both incredible and disturbing. Not that I would have any experience in that department, but I can imagine the feeling of euphoria.
The effects of the vodka and cranberries finally relax me a little. As I watch the man flail his bright blue banana hammock, Dar’s face turns scarlet, and she scrunches up her nose. I can’t help myself when I burst out in a sporadic snort-laugh, which I’ve coined “slaughs”.
Dar hears me “slaugh” and hangs her head in laughter. After she catches her breath, she grabs my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “See, I told you it would be fun! Thanks for this, Cass! I love ya!” she screams over the music, bobbing her head with the beat.
“Girl, I love you as well!” Seeing her happy warms my heart. She is the sister I never had. She is the only person I can count on, and I don’t know what I would do without her. At times, she understands me better than I do myself.
“Is this what you do every time you come here?” I ask her while watching a woman well in her eighties stuff bills into the elastic of a stripper’s underwear. Dar belts out a laugh so loud it actually makes me jump, spilling part of my drink onto my lap.
“No, you silly woman. This is the first time they’ve ever come here in their banana hammocks.” She sticks out her tongue at me and changes the subject. “Let’s do shots!”
Nodding, I stand up.
Banana hammocks? I’ve never told her what I call G-strings or my extreme hate for them. I shrug it off, wondering if Dar can read minds.
We pass the dollar-stuffing grandma, and she winks at me. “Hey, sweetheart, let me show you how a real woman handles a fine piece of ass!” The music is blaring so loud I barely hear her yelling at us. One of the dancers shakes in front of her face as the music beats through the speakers. She grabs his crotch, with what looks like all her might, and yells, “Momma’s got a new set of jewels!”
His face is priceless. His mouth drops open as he looks around for help. The bouncer rushes over and urges her toward the exit; she brings up her hand to her ears, motioning for the poor guy to call her.
I nudge Dar with my elbow and point out what’s unveiling in front of us. She shakes her head and giggles.
We fight through the crowded space and approach the bar where the bartender smirks. His eyes wander up my body, stopping when they connect with mine. His hair edges his high cheekbones, and he really could benefit from a trim. He definitely has the bad boy look. There is a vague five-o’clock shadow along his prominent jawline, but it suits him. By the grin playing on his lips, I can tell he is completely aware of his good looks.
“Stare much?” I mumble under my breath. His head jerks back. He blinks as if he didn’t expect me to notice him undressing me with his eyes, but it would be pretty hard to miss. At least he’s actually looking at my eyes, which is more than I can say for most men. Other guys usually pay more attention to my chest and never notice anything else about my body.
“What’s your choice of poison, ladies?” he asks while looking at the bar, swiping a cloth along the wooden surface. Before slinging the rag over his shoulder, he looks up and winks at me.
After Dar and I exchange a look, we yell at the same time, “Jäger !” There are no questions between us; it’s what we always drink when she drags me out with her. She likes to shoot tequila, but knows I refuse to drink that shit.
Almost immediately after he speaks, he focuses his gaze back on me. I glare at him as he holds his lips together and turns away from us as his shoulders shake a little. What a pain in the ass! He’s laughing at me! He faces us and wipes his mouth with his hand, no doubt doing a poor job of hiding the fact he finds me hilarious for some reason.
After I clear my throat, he diverts his attention from me long enough to say, “Happy birthday, Dartanya.” She leans across the bar to hug him and tells him thank you. How in the hell does he know Dar, much less that it’s her birthday? This night is quickly filling up with people from her past, and I have no idea who any of them are.
“Take a seat. I’ll show you a good time. It is your birthday and all, so I’m obligated, right?” he says with a booming voice over the slower song now playing. She squeals and then quickly sits at the mention of booze. He lines up six shot glasses and fills them to the rim. Three in front of me and three in front of Dar. He rolls his hips to the music as he takes two beers out of the cooler and slowly removes the caps one at a time with the underside of his forearm. His huge muscles move beneath his skin, and I can’t look away. I’m in some type of trance, and at any minute, I might start drooling down my chin.
He props his elbows on the varnished wood of the bar and sits my drink in front of my nose. Keeping his eyes trained on mine, he asks with a smug grin, “Want to see what else I can do?” As alluring as his voice is, his cocky attitude ruins it for me.
I’m upset that I might actually like to find out what that man can do. For a fleeting moment, I entertain the idea of him showing me. After being lost in thought of his sinful body, I pretend I didn’t hear him and look to Dar for a distraction. “You ready?” I ask with a little too much enthusiasm, trying to cover where my drifting mind went.
“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to? Hell, I’m always ready, Cass.” She nudges me with her shoulder and then draws her eyes down at him in disapproval. Clearly, she doesn’t appreciate the hidden innuendo in his statement, but that’s Dar. She’s always watching out for me, and out of the two of us, she is by far the more outspoken. There has been more than one occasion when she didn’t hesitate to tell someone off on my behalf.
We nod our heads in unison and say our cheer, “To the men whom we love and the men whom we hate, may they at least always pay for our date!” Dar and I tip the shot glasses together and then let the cold liquid slide down our throats. We do the remaining shots and chase them with our beers. Dar bounces up and down as “In Da Club” by 50 Cent blares in our ears.
She screams, “Come on! It’s the birthday song!” Her excitement overwhelms her as she pulls me by the hand to my feet and leads me through the crowd to the front. When we’re at the stage, the men are doing some dance moves they call “The Dirty Dog”. The tallest of them struts in front of us and thrusts his pelvis in our direction. Before I know it, strippers surround us and pull us up onto the platform, rubbing their bodies against ours as I shake my head, watching Dar bite her lip. After releasing a long breath, I decide to live in the moment and grind against one of the guys to the beat of the song. Dar gives me a thumbs-up as she wiggles about, trying to dance. The poor girl can’t even master the twist. Screams and whistles erupt from the women on the floor, causing my face to burn with embarrassment. I don’t like being the center of attention, but I find relief from knowing most of these women are probably looking at the guys. Or at least, I hope they are.
After a few songs, I glance over to Dar and tell her I’m leaving the dance floor. She catches up with me and slings her arm over my shoulder as we make our way back to the bar. Dar twirls in circles on her stool while waiting for the bartender to approach us. He has his back against the liquor showcase with his arms across his broad chest. He resembles a sulking kid who didn’t get his way.
“Had all you can take?” He licks his lower lip as he breathes out. I shake my head, partially to answer him, but also to stop myself from thinking how his tongue would feel m
oving in rhythm with mine.
Dar orders three more shots for each of us and completely draws my attention away from him and his sinful tongue. Seriously, I have no idea what kind of chemical reaction is going on with me right now, but I’m acting like this is the first time I’ve ever seen a guy lick his mouth. I need to rein in my hormones before I do something completely idiotic, like taste him.
We slam our shots one after another. As soon as one leaves our lips, the next is there to take its place. “Phewsh! I don’t know about you, Cass, but I’m starting to get a little drunk,” Dar slurs as she hops off the bar stool, immediately crashing into my side and giggling afterward. “I’m going to pee.” She pulls at the back of my shirt. “C’mon! You’re going with me!” She gazes at me through bloodshot eyes and pulls a little harder on my collar to get me up and moving.
Every time we’re drunk together, I’m reminded how hard it is to walk, especially when I’m the one holding her up. To say I’m glad when we finally make it to the restroom would be an understatement.
“Cassandra?” I hear her call from the stall beside me. Over the many years we’ve been friends, she’s only used my first name in its entirety when she is truly wasted or she’s pissed about something.
“Yes, Dartanya?” I have to bite my tongue because I almost say, “No, this is your conscious,” just to mess with her head.
“Can we go home after this? I think I’m more than a little, d-r-unk. Scratch that. I know I am.” Speaking must take her full concentration because she pauses briefly after each word as if trying to force herself to spit out the next.
I slaugh, before replying, “Of course we can, Dar. I’m kind of tipsy myself. Good idea...I’ll go ahead and call a cab for us, ‘kay?” After I wash and dry my hands, I pull my cell phone from my pocket and place the call. “They said it’ll be ten minutes.”
“Awshum!” she slurs again, doing her best to fling open the stall door and stumble over to the sink. I eye her suspiciously. Unless she’s done a few more shots in which I’m not aware, we’ve drunk the same tonight. I pull her under my arm as she leans against my body, letting out a slow sigh. The unmistakable stench of tequila rides on her breath and makes my stomach churn. I had forgotten she’d had the Tequila Sunrise earlier, which could be one reason for her current sidestepping.
People bounce around us, shaking various parts of their bodies. They call it dancing, but some of the moves I’m seeing look more like they’re convulsing under some drunken stupor than any dance moves. I focus my eyes on the floor, getting a bit dizzy watching all the people move around as they let the music take over them. The next thing I know, Dar and I smack against the concrete wall and fall hard to the floor.
Dar bursts out laughing. “Smooth move, Cass. I think I should’ve been the one driving us on this one.” She laughs again, playfully waving her hand in the air. The bartender makes his way from behind the bar to us with a slight grin on his face. He pulls us up from the ground before we have a chance to get up ourselves.
“Thanks.” I nod, feeling my skin burn with embarrassment.
He flashes a glorious smile that spreads across his entire face, and he winks. “Don’t mention it.” He sees us through the door and safely to the waiting cab. He motions with his hand for Dar to take her seat. I scoot in beside her and look up at him while he leans against the open car door. “Pleasure to meet you, Cricket. My name is Lucas Daniels.” After shutting the door, he hands me my purse through the open window. He then disappears into the club.
I watch after him a little too long. Hmm, I must have left my purse sitting on the bar. Oh, wait. I know I did. Dar had pulled me to the bathroom, and I had left it sitting on the bar. Satisfied I had figured out the mystery of why Lucas had my purse, I turn to our cab driver and give him directions to our apartment.
The trip is quick; we live conveniently right off Bluewood University’s campus. When we arrive at our apartment, I dig into my purse for the cab fare, but the driver shakes his head. “Already taken care of, miss.”
That’s odd. Maybe he’s friends with Dar and wanted to give her a birthday present. We haven’t paid for anything tonight, so that makes sense.
I help Dar up the stairs and into our apartment. We say our goodnights, as I make sure she gets into her bed without getting hurt. After she closes her eyes, I turn off her light and walk into my room.
I change into my pajamas and collapse into bed. Literally, I think the alcohol has finally won the battle with my blood. I don’t struggle. I just wiggle around until I have the sheet and blanket over me. It may have taken longer to set in, but Dar and I definitely drank the same amount. It’s very clear now. The room is spinning. “Ugh,” I mumble as my face hits the pillow, and I close my eyes. Before long, I drift off with the thoughts of that gorgeous bartender and his magical tongue.
*****
Dar, giggling as she pushes open my door and lets herself in, wakes me from the reoccurring nightmare that I have frequently. Apprehensively, I roll over and groan as my face smashes into the cell phone Dar has so thoughtfully placed in front of my nose. I’ve never been too fond of mornings, particularly mornings such as this one. I love my best friend, but her bubbly personality is hard to handle when I first wake up.
“What the hell, Dar?” I blurt out after she moves the phone in a circular pattern on the end of my nose and laughs at me.
“It’s Lucas,” she says in a singsong manner.
“Wait, who? What does he want? How does he even know my number? More importantly, why is this guy calling me?” Each question runs into the next as my mind races, trying to figure out all the answers. Unsure I even want to speak to him, I fumble with the phone, nearly dropping it onto the bed. I clear my throat. Crap. I have groggy morning voice, and my breath smells like ass. Ugh. This can’t be happening now. I muster my most disinterested voice and answer, “Hello?”
“Good morning, Cricket.” He yawns. “I thought you might like to know I found your phone on the floor last night after you left.”
I scratch my head, wondering how my cell ended up on The Hot Spot’s floor. I decide the most sensible scenario of them all is when the bartender helped us up from the cold concrete, it must have fallen out of my hand. Honestly, I don’t recall having my phone after calling the cab company. The sad part is, I didn’t even notice it was missing and probably wouldn’t have until later today. I’m normally not this way. It’s probably related to the amount of celebrating Dar and I did at the bar last night. “Umm…Thanks…I think,” I reply while sifting through the hazy events leading up to this conversation. “Wait, how did you know it was mine?”
“Do you want your phone back, or do you want me to keep it? Nice pictures by the way,” he teases, not giving me a chance to answer either question.
I panic, trying to find out what pictures he’s talking about, but for the life of me, I can’t remember a damn one. My mouth gapes, and Dar lightly pushes my chin with her fingers to close it.
“I do need my phone back, but how did you know it was mine?” I repeat a little frantically and cover my eyes with my arm, still wanting to be able to remember the stupid pictures he’s talking about. At least I can be confident there aren’t any nude ones on there. I’ve never taken any, but Dar and I take silly photos often. I’m too nervous to ask him what he’s seen, so I don’t mention them, hoping by some slight grace he’ll drop the subject.
“Don’t sweat the small stuff, Cricket. That’s it then. You have to come back to The Hot Spot, and I’ll give it to you.” He pauses for a fleeting second and then clears his throat. “Yeah, anytime you want it. I can help you out.” I hear him breathe out heavily, and as I’m about to ask if we’re still talking about the phone, he laughs. “Bring Dartayna along if you want. So, I was thinking around ten tonight. We can hang out, you know? It’s only fair since I saved your phone. I’ll see you then.” He chuckles softly and ends the call.
“I guess I’ll see you then,” I mumble into the dead line.
>
I keep the phone to my ear long after the call is done, afraid if I disconnect, it will all become true. I really agreed to meet him. Regardless of the cause, it makes my anxiety peak in full force without holding back. My limbs begin to tremble uncontrollably. At the same moment, a warm calm floods my veins, and my breathing is all over the place. Breathe in…breathe out…breathe in… The sense of tranquility shields my unpredictable emotions, and my eyes close on their own.
When I reopen them, Dar hovers over me, holding something under my nose that smells horrible. “Dar!” I shriek. “Have you gone completely out of your ever-loving mind?” The questions I really want to ask her are…Why I am wet? What is that awful scent? And, why does my face feel like a million bees took out their fury on my cheek?
She doesn’t answer, and by the way her mouth is hanging wide open makes me think she’s in shock. That’s it! My best friend has finally gone insane, and I’m about to suffer the consequences. Her skin color isn’t its normal dark tan. Instead, it resembles the institutional beige that plagues the walls of most waiting areas in hospitals across the US.
In an attempt to rescue myself from whatever she’s about to do, I raise my hips to throw her off, but she doesn’t budge. Accepting she’s here for the long haul, I sigh, giving her a questioning look.
“Cass, you passed out after having a panic attack again. When I realized you were holding your breath, I smacked you, but that didn’t work.” She gives an apologetic glance and cups my cheek in her hand. “Girl, you kinda scared me, so then I slung a glass of cold water on you. Neither of those brought you out of it, so I got my bottle of tequila and held it under your nose.” She gasps for a long breath after finishing her wild explanation.
I let out a loud throaty laugh. “Aw, Dar, I love you, but tequila doesn’t have the same effect as smelling salts. You know that, right?” She sets the bottle onto the nightstand, giving me an awful glare. One thing is for sure; the mysteries I couldn’t figure out earlier are now clear. I know exactly why my face hurts, why I’m wet, and the source of that unforgiving stench that is still swirling around in my nostrils. One of the only smells that can awaken the demons of my past is tequila. It’s what he drank.
Just Breathe (Blue #1) Page 2