by Sarah Bailey
The whole time they were talking, his eyes ran all over her body, looking at her as though she were a delectable piece of meat. Finally, he said she had the job, but only on the condition that she lost the glasses. She asked him why, and he said, because most men don’t go for the sexy librarian fantasy. She immediately turned her attention away from him, grinned at me, and exclaimed enthusiastically, “Point proven!” Then she grabbed my hand and dragged me out of there, with the manager yelling “Hey, what the hell!” behind us.
“Oh, by the way,” Sarah said. “Congratulations! I talked to Angela before I called back to leave a message, and she told me you discovered a brilliant script!”
“Thanks, babe. But we haven’t signed the guy yet.”
“Listen,” Lisa said, her tone sounding conspiratorial. “I was thinking I need a break from Manhattan, and I couldn’t think of anything more fun than visiting my bestie soon. Like, say, this coming weekend.”
“Oh my god!” I actually squealed into the phone. “Get your ass over here! You’re welcome any time!”
“Okay, great. I’ll buy my ticket tonight. Can you get me at the airport Friday night?”
“Sure thing.” I was grinning ear to ear. I so needed to see my best friend. “Angela will be thrilled to hear you’re coming.”
Lisa snorted. “Well, maybe, but she won’t show it.”
“Her snarkiness toward you is a form of endearment.”
Lisa snorted again. “Right. Or jealously. Anyway. You have a fantastic time at Strut tonight. And I’ll see you on the weekend!”
“Awesome.” I hung up the phone still grinning. Then I looked at the time. It was eight-thirty. If I was going to make it to the club, and still get back home in time to get a decent night of sleep, I’d have to get ready and leave immediately. I jumped off the couch and headed for the shower, excited about the prospect of having a relaxing night, enjoying a few drinks, on the Sunset Strip.
***
I arrived at Strut wearing a strapless, fire-engine red Ferragamo dress with a fitted bodice, and flared skirt. I’d slipped on my red Fendi stilettos, an impulse buy that I barely got any use out of. In fact, Angela had borrowed them so many times, I’d almost forgotten that they were mine. I’d straightened my hair, and it was sleek and shiny. I rarely wore bright makeup, but for clubbing, I usually went all out. Tonight I’d made me blue eyes look extra defined and intense with smoky makeup, and my lips were painted cherry red. There was a long line up to the door, but I went up the bouncer, John, and he smiled at me and let me through the velvet ropes.
“Lookin’ hot, Sarah,” he said, giving me an approving nod.
I gave him my most winning smile and said thanks. When I got into the club, it was overcrowded, as usual. The huge dance floor, done in black imitation-onyx tile, was full of bodies gyrating and slamming into one another. Purples neon lights were flashing like lightning along the walls, and everyone was dressed to the nines. Men had on slick designer suit jackets in navy and purple silk, paired with designer jeans and black leather shoes. Girls were dressed in slinky silver sequins, tight hot red numbers, black leather tanktops and skin tight jeans, teetering on stilettos of every color, their gold and silver jewelry glimmering in the dim light. An elevated VIP section had soft velvet couches and booths, with the preferred clientele sipping martinis brought to them by a waitress in snakeskin skinny jeans and a black leather halter top.
I scanned the main bar, and noticed Angela, dressed in a purple, scoop necked minidress, hair tied into an elegant ponytail, with loose strands of her brown hair framing her beautiful oval face. She was working the bar like a mad woman. She was shaking and serving and shuffling and mixing; the absolute queen of her bar. I also spotted Elle with her teased blond hair, cheap, gaudy makeup, a black tank top and matching short leather skirt, sitting at the bar right in front of where Angela was working. Great. Elle was a good friend of Angela’s coworker, Pamela, who must have been on break. She was always hanging around the bar, trying to get every guy to either buy her a drink or take her to the washroom for a quick one. I found her rude and obnoxious, and felt myself cringing as I started walking over to the bar.
As I got close, Angela looked up at the right moment and I caught her eye. She waved me over, then winked confidently at a guy who probably just propositioned her. She was great at blowing guys off in a way that made them save face. I slid onto the one empty stool left, and waited for someone to come take my order.
“Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in,” I swiveled around in my chair. Elle. She was about 5’9, and she stood there with her hand on her hip, leering down at me.
I glared up at her. “What do you want, Elle?” She made a gasping noise and put her hand to her mouth, pretending like she was offended.
“Easy there, sour puss,” she said. “I was just coming over to say hi. Anyway, having me here will bring you good luck. All the guys flock to me. If I’d left you alone, you’d be sitting all by your lonesome the whole night.”
I laughed. Really hard. I had to hand it to her. She could be very entertaining. “Oh, Elle,” I said in an admiring tone that immediately made her narrow her eyes at me. “It’s so hard to be the ugly duckling. Thank you for taking me under your wing. It’s such a grand gesture.” I laughed again, and swiveled back around to face the bar. But she wasn’t done yet.
“Was that sarcasm?” she asked, looking confused, and worried that I’d just made fun of her. In addition to being obnoxious, she wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box.
I put on my most innocent looking face. “Sarcasm? What’s that?”
This time she got it. She scowled at me, and turned to face the bar, but she didn’t leave. I was just contemplating getting up and moving to another section when Angela bounced over to me and smiled brightly. Her face was all shiny with sweat, and I could see by the strain in her face that she was having a hard night, but she still somehow managed to look absolutely gorgeous.
“Hey darlin’,” she said in her best sultry southern accent, “What can I get ya?”
“How ‘bout a whiskey sour.”
“Comin’ right up.” She turned to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels, and I watched her pour and stir and shake at almost an alarming speed. She was damn good at her job. She hated when I told her that, though. Her biggest fear was that she’d never make it as an actress, and still be bartending by the time she was forty. I kept telling her there was absolutely no chance of that. She was talented, and she would find some way to make the acting thing work. Still, every time an audition didn’t go her way, she’d come home defeated, and then do a little too much coke at the bar that night.
After she added the cherry garnish, she placed the drink in front of me, and I rummaged in my purse for some change. “Don’t even think about it, Sarah. This one’s on the house.”
I shook my head. “You better not keep this up, or I’ll drink you dry.”
The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly. “Not a chance,” she said. I noticed all the people waving money at her, eager for her to make their drink. “I’ll see you on break?” she asked.
“Sounds good,” I said, and sat back to enjoy my drink.
“You and your whiskey sours.” I turned. His beer breath hit me right in the face, and I felt as if I was going to hurl. Ziggy. My ex’s bass player. And Angela’s boyfriend. I was so not in the mood to speak to him right now. I started to turn the other way, and then noticed that Elle was still standing there, scowling. I was literally sandwiched in between two of my least favorite people. “Rob’s been asking about you, ya know,” he slurred.
I gave him a blank stare, and then said, “I so don’t care.”
He leaned his elbow on the bar, and gave me a puppy dog look. “Hey, don’t be like that. He screwed up. And he knows it. Give the dude a break. I’m sure he’ll make it up to you.”
I heard Elle make a scoffing noise beside me. “Well that’s news,” she said. “You should jump at the chance to get
a guy like that back. I mean, it’s a wonder he even wants you, especially after that freak out of yours.”
I turned to Elle and gave her a death look. I could feel my temper start to boil. When she saw my cold stare, her expression became triumphant. “I mean,” she continued. “Everyone’s seen the video. It’s been like a huge You Tube hit. What was the title?” She looked in thought for a moment, no doubt searching her vacuous head for a little piece of fluff that had gotten lodged in there somewhere. “Oh ya,” she said, getting a nasty smile on her face. “Jilted girlfriend goes psycho.”
Rob and Elle both started to laugh. I felt humiliation and embarrassment flood through me, and I wanted to punch them both in the face for making me feel so awful. Mostly, though, I was so angry at myself for having lost control the way I did. I was never going to live this video down.
Still giggling, Elle leaned in closer. “Face it, Sarah. Your assets just aren’t strong enough to keep a man like that happy with what he’s got at home.”
I gripped the edge of the bar hard, for fear that if I let go, I would actually slap Elle across the face. Then suddenly the passionate anger was replaced by cold fury. I flashed Elle the ugliest look I could muster and said “Oh, go take it up the ass in the men’s shit hole. I hear there’s still a long line up, seeing as only half the bar has already stuck it to you.”
Elle’s face fell, and then she started working her jaw, opening and closing her mouth, with no words coming out. I instantly felt awful. Sure, she was being a total bitch to me, but I really wasn’t in to slut shaming. Still, part of me felt like she deserved it. Then I noticed Elle wasn’t actually looking at me. Or Ziggy. She was staring at someone directly behind me.
“Hello, Sarah.” That husky, powerful voice. My body responded to it immediately. My lip started trembling, my stomach fluttered, and I become light headed. I took a deep breath and turned to face him. He was staring at me with a curious and amused expression, and I instantly started wondering how much he had overheard before he made his presence known.
Despite my visceral reaction, my mind instantly took over. What was he doing here? I told him I was coming here tonight, but I didn’t invite him. Also, he was a player. Everything about him suggested that. And a cocky one at that. Hadn’t he made some innuendo about already having me in the sac? I had to be level headed about this.
“What brings you here tonight, Mr. McGregor?” I asked in the coolest, smoothest tone I could muster.
His eyes again flickered with amusement. “Aren’t we formal,” he said, curiously eyeing my still trembling lower lip. Julian looked absolutely dashing. His blue eyes glimmered, and his hair was a gorgeous, wavy mess that I just wanted to run my hands through. He was wearing loose black jeans, a matching t-shirt, and a belt with a prominent silver buckle. Somehow the dark, casual clothes really showcased his fierce, raw beauty. I looked around, and noticed that girls were already swarming him, trying to get his attention. Including Elle. She stepped in front of me and held out her hand.
“I’m Elle,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. He shook her hand politely, then turned his focus back on me. But she wasn’t giving up that easy. She adjusted her tank top so that her ample cleavage was on display, and smiled up at him again from beneath her lashes. “Care to buy me a drink?” she asked, pouting her glossy lips at him.
He smiled at her indulgently and said, “Maybe some other time. I have other plans tonight.”
He turned his attention to behind the bar and waved his hand, trying to get Angela’s attention. She came over immediately. “Could I have a bottle of Cristal sent to the VIP room? With two champagne glasses?”
“Oh that sounds like fun!” Elle piped up, still not giving up.
His smile this time was a little less indulgent. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But it’s a private party that only Sarah and I will be attending.”
Elle’s face instantly fell. Then she glared it me. Finally, she turned her attention back to Julian and said, “Careful. That one’s got a temper.”
A small smile started to play on Julian’s lips. He looked at me, with his eyes hot and possessive and said, “That’s okay. I like my women passionate.”
Elle scowled at me again, then fluttered her eyelashes at Julian. “Well, if you get bored of her, you know where to find me.” Then she winked at him, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and strutted back over to the section of the bar I’d originally seen her in. Ziggy gave me a lazy smile, shrugged, and then followed her.
I rolled my eyes, and Julian chuckled. “Come,” he said, holding out his hand for me to take.
I stood there for a second debating what to do. Sure, splitting a bottle of Cristal with the hottest man in the bar, probably the hottest man in the universe, sounded like absolute heaven. But the level headed part of me screamed ‘Don’t do it. He’s a player. You’re so gonna get hurt.’
I eyed him carefully for a moment, sipping my drink and ignoring his outstretched hand. “I’ll ask you again,” I said. “What brings you to Strut tonight?”
He pinned me with those breathtaking eyes and said simply, “You.”
I was floored. He didn’t hesitate. Or give me some lame excuse. He was just honest and direct. I let my guard down a bit, but not completely. “Why, Julian?” I asked. “I mean, there literally have to be thousands of women in L.A. that you could, what’s the expression? ‘Have in the sac’ whenever the mood hits you. Why mess with your partner’s new hire?”
He gave me a dark, lethally enticing look. “Because she’s too delectable to pass up.”
I crossed my arms, and he stared at them intently. I knew it was just another pathetic barrier to place between us, but I needed some distance. Julian was just so overwhelming. I felt that if I opened myself up to him, I’d get completely sucked in, completely lost in him. I needed to think of my self-preservation. He was looking at me expectantly. I could feel my eyes go cold as I said, “I don’t shit where I eat.”
Julian’s eyes flickered with amusement. “You have quite the dirty mouth on you,” he said. “That’s twice tonight I’ve heard you not mind your manners. I should line you up right here at the bar and give you a good spanking.”
The image of Julian flogging my bare ass at the bar, then taking me from behind in front of everyone flashed through me head. I felt an involuntary surge of heat between my legs, and my heart started to pound. This man was going to be the end of me. He leaned forward, and whispered in my ear. “Does that turn you on, Sarah?” A slow, sultry shiver ran up my spine. He reached out his hand again. I still refused it.
“You’re a player,” I said bluntly. “I don’t sleep with players.”
His face became deadly serious, his eyes brooding. “This isn’t a game for me, Sarah.”
“Then what is it? Tell me what this is to you,” I said angrily.
He reached out his hand one more time. “Let’s go to the VIP room. We can talk about this there.”
I hesitated for a moment, then finally took his hand. As we threaded past throngs and throngs of people, heads turned and eyed Julian with awe. He pulled me close, then possessively wrapped an arm around me. I gave him a curious look, then followed his gaze. A man with brilliant green eyes, dressed in a purple Armani suit, and wearing a fedora at a rakish angle was staring at me lecherously, drinking me in with his eyes. When he saw Julian’s expression, he smirked at him, shrugged his shoulders, and made a beeline for a tall, gorgeous blonde in a wispy, blue chiffon dress.
When we got to the VIP section, one of the waitresses on duty led us to a two-seater couch upholstered in smoky velvet, and went to go get our champagne. Julian, still holding my hand, pulled me down onto the couch, roughly enough that I lost my balance and my head ended up against his shoulder. I could feel the heat coming off him chest, and his subtle cologne filled my nostrils, making me giddy with desire. I started breathing unevenly through my mouth, almost panting. Julian tilted my face up to his, and his soft breath warmly caressed my chee
ks. Then I looked into his eyes, and the heat and ferocity of his gaze was almost unbearable. He ran his thumb over my lower lip, and it immediately started quivering again. His gaze became riveted to my lip, and he looked delighted, triumphant.
No. He hadn’t won yet, I told myself, snapping out of my trance. I instantly pulled back, breaking out of his arms, out of his grip. He let out a long sigh, then slowly ran his eyes all over my body. “You look exquisite tonight,” he said. “My lady in red.”
I shrugged, a bit sheepishly. “Yes, it’s a little dramatic.”
He shook his head, running his eyes eagerly over my bare shoulders, my exposed collarbone. They came to rest briefly on my cleavage. “Not dramatic. Just bold and passionate. And true to your character.”