“Only if you’re okay with me doing it, too,” I reply.
We both look at each other and then burst out laughing.
“Okay then,” she says.
“Honestly, Em. I need to get laid. It’s been too long.”
“Ugh. You’re telling me! I haven’t had sex in like…” she pauses, counting on her fingers, “six months!”
“I think it’s been like nine months for me,” I say with a pout.
“Since Liam?” she asks.
“Yep. That shouldn’t even count, though. He wasn’t that good. Selfish bastard.”
“My last time was with a guy I met in a bar. He was fine! He had all these muscles and I just knew I was gonna have some amazing, drunk sex. We get back to my place and we fall into the bed, ripping our clothes off, and he puts a condom on and then jumps on top of me. He goes to push it inside of me and I can barely feel anything! I wasn’t sure if he was hard or not. It was terrible, and then he came in like two minutes. What’s worse is that when he was done, he said, ‘not bad, huh?’ What the fuck? I could have kicked him in the face. Worst. Sex. Ever.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Oh my gosh! That’s worse than Liam. You win…or lose I guess.”
We pull up to the apartment complex and pay the cabbie. Taking off our heels, we make our way up to the lobby of the building and get in the elevator. Once we hit the third floor, we walk the short distance to my door and throw all of our stuff on the floor as soon as we walk in.
“I just got hit with a wave of sleepiness just now,” I say.
“Me too. That alcohol is catching up to me.”
“Guess I won’t be having any naughty thoughts tonight, I’d probably fall asleep before I finished. Like Liam,” I say and laugh at my own joke.
“Eh. Maybe I’ll get a second wind,” Em says.
We go and change into some shorts and tank tops before laying across the wide, black couch in my living room. We lie feet to feet with our heads on the arm rests on each side and put on a chick flick. I don’t know how long we stay up, but we both end up falling asleep there on the couch. That night I dream of beautiful, blue eyes and tall, God-like men.
When I wake up in the morning, I smell bacon and coffee. I push myself up and can see directly into the kitchen. I get up and shuffle towards the breakfast bar, sit down and groan.
Em turns around with a smile on her face. “Good morning, sunshine!”
“Ugh. How are you a morning person? I hate those people,” I say, rubbing my eyes. I realize now that I slept with my mascara and eyeliner still on, so I probably look like a raccoon.
“Yeah, but you love me. Anyway, I’ve had two cups of coffee already, so I’m good.”
Emilie places a cup of coffee in front of me with some creamer and bowl of sugar next to it.
“I think I should just marry you, and not worry about any guys. You’d make a great wife,” I say as I add the sugar to my coffee.
She acts like she’s thinking about it and then says, “You can be my backup.”
I laugh. “Okay. That works.”
“So do you have any plans for today?” she asks, turning around to finish cooking breakfast.
“No. Thank God. I don’t have to see Mrs. Roberts until Monday, so I’ll probably be a lazy bum all day.”
“Oh.” She’s quiet and I know she’s thinking something.
“Why?”
“Oh, uhh…I was just thinking maybe you’d want to go have dinner with me.”
I keep watching her but she doesn’t turn around to look at me. Something in her tone makes me believe something’s up.
“Okay,” I drag out. “Where did you want to go?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know later, though.”
She finally turns around but doesn’t make eye contact with me. She’s acting funny.
“Em.”
“Huh?” she replies without looking at me.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’re just being weird,” I say, still eyeing her suspiciously.
“No I’m not. I just…if you don’t want to go eat because you wanna stay home, that’s fine. Maybe we can go out another day. I don’t want to ruin your lazy plans.”
“It’s fine. Just make sure you tell me where we’re going in enough time for me to be ready. I don’t know if we’re doing casual or fancy.”
“Yeah. I don’t know either. I’ll make sure you’re appropriately dressed. Don’t worry,” she says, giving me a smile.
We sit down, eat breakfast and drink lots of coffee before Em gets dressed to go home.
“I’ll see you later,” I say as she’s walking out.
“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”
Once she’s gone, I go to take a nice, long, hot bath. My bathroom is big, length wise with his and her sinks. The only good thing about that is I have plenty of counter space for all my hair products, but no need for his and her sinks when there is no man living here.
The space between the counter and the tub is small, though. I turn around, take one step and I’m to the tub. Too bad this isn’t a big, Jacuzzi tub. That would be nice.
After I soak my body in the hot water, shave and wash my hair, I get out and decide to take the time to straighten my hair. It’s still fairly early and I have nothing else to do until I hear from Em about dinner.
I put my iPod on the iPod dock and blast my music while I do my hair. After singing and dancing in the mirror for what seems like hours, my long, dark brown hair is silky smooth and flows straight to the middle of back. After all this work I really hope Em doesn’t want to go to a fast food place or anything.
I check the time and am surprised that it’s already four-thirty. I go to the closet and try to find something to wear, but it’s hard to choose when I don’t know where I’m going. Walking past my full-size bed, I find my cell that’s sitting on top of the black chest of drawers. I notice I have a text message from Em already.
Emilie: Hey, so go to Binion’s Steakhouse at like 6:30
Me: Okay. Meet you there?
I wait a few minutes for her response.
Emilie: See you later!
I’ve never been to Binion’s before so I do a quick Google check to see what the dress code is. I find out that it’s on the twenty-fourth floor of the West Tower and that the dress code is business casual.
I decide on a sheer chiffon high low dress. The top is leopard print and the bottom is black. The front of the skirt stops about three or four inches above my knee while the back goes almost to my ankles. I pair that with some black faux suede strappy platform heels.
Looking in the mirror, I apply some light eyeliner and mascara, then some pinkish lipstick with gloss. Bam. Done.
When I get there, I pull out my phone and text Em to let her know that I’m here. Her response is quick. She tells me to meet her inside.
I walk into the building and try to find the elevators. It takes a few minutes, but I finally find them and escape from the loud noises of the casino. The ride up is smooth and I lie my head back and close my eyes. The elevator dings and I’m greeted with vintage décor. It’s much dimmer up here, very romantic. The windows showcase a beautiful view of the city.
I look around but don’t see Em anywhere. I text her again.
Me: Where are you? I’m at the restaurant already.
Emilie: Grab the table, please! It’s under my name. Just go sit before they give the table away.
Me: You’re always late!! Hurry up. I don’t wanna look all lonely and sad up here.
Emilie: Yeah yeah
I go to the hostess and tell her Em’s name. She takes me straight to the table, and it’s one near a window. I thank her then turn my head to look out the window. The twinkling lights down below make it seem so peaceful, but I know it’s a madhouse down there.
After the waiter brings me some water, I tell him to give me a few more minutes since I’m waiting on Emilie.
&nb
sp; I text her…again.
Me: Hurry the EFF up!
Emilie: Don’t be mad at me…
Me: Em you better not be standing me up. You asked me to come out and now I’m here. Get your ass over here!
Emilie: …………
That’s her response. Fucking dots. I don’t even know what to say. I take a deep breath and look around the restaurant. It’s not too packed. I can just get up and walk out and be fine. I’m still pissed that I got ready for nothing.
Me: You’re a bitch, and I hate you. I’m leaving now. Don’t talk to me for at least three days.
I grab my clutch from the table, and go to stand up, but what I see next stops me dead in my tracks.
“Adrienne,” the deep, sensual voice says.
I pause in a half standing, half sitting position with my eyes wide and I’m sure my jaw just hit the table. I eventually snap out of it and let myself fall back into the seat.
“Uhh…” I say, aware that I sound like an idiot.
He gives me a smile, showing off his perfectly white teeth before he sits down on the opposite side of the table.
“I was just leaving,” I say.
“You just got here,” he quickly responds.
“How do you know?” I snap.
“Because, I was downstairs and just watched you come in.”
“I’m still leaving.”
“You don’t want to stay and have dinner with me?” He gives me another perfect smile and I almost want to just sit, stare, and bat my eyelashes at him. Stupid, God-like man.
“No. I was supposed to have dinner with my friend, but apparently after making me come here, she changed her mind.”
“If I had made you come, I wouldn’t change my mind about spending time with you,” he says and gives me a mischievous smile.
He catches me by surprise with that statement, and once again I’m sure my mouth is open and eyes unblinking.
“Okay, why are you here? What are you doing?” I ask, trying to keep my mind from him making me come.
“Well, it looks like we’re on a date.” He leans back in his chair and I notice he’s got a nice light blue button up shirt on that brings out his eyes.
“We’re not on a date. I was here, waiting for my friend, and you showed up. That’s not a date.”
“It can turn into one though.”
“I think you have enough dates,” I blurt out before thinking about it.
He leans forward and tilts his head a bit like he’s trying to figure something out.
“What do you mean?” he asks calmly.
“I don’t go on dates with men who date several other women.”
“Who says I’m dating several other women?” He leans back again and strokes the facial hair on his jaw.
“Well, I saw you with a woman just last night.” I don’t tell him that I’ve watched the way he interacts with other women as well, and was jealous about it.
“That’s one woman, and we aren’t dating.”
“Right. Well, even if I believed you, you’d have to actually ask me out on a date before I’d agree to be on one with you.”
I stand up and start walking away from the table. My hands are shaking and I want to slap myself for not just sitting there, but I refuse to be one of many.
“Adrienne.”
I hear him calling me, but I refuse to stop or turn around. Nope. Not gonna trap me with those beautiful eyes and wonderful smile. Not even if he ripped his shirt off and showed off what I’m sure is an amazing body. Okay, that might give me pause, but there’s no way I’m giving in.
I rush out of the restaurant and jam my finger into the elevator button over and over until it opens. I’m relieved when I don’t see him rushing after me. And slightly disappointed.
Gah! I’m so stupid. I give myself a face palm and wait for the elevator to drop me off at the first floor. Once it opens, I fly out and walk as fast as I can to my car. I open the door, throw my clutch on the passenger seat and drive home.
When I’m inside my apartment, I try to figure out how many names I can call Emilie before she hangs up on me. She’s got a lot of explaining to do.
I walk to the table where I throw all my stuff and look for my phone. Clutch, keys, but no phone. Did I? I couldn’t have. Fuck. I left my phone at the goddamn restaurant and now fucking blue eyes has it! That’s probably why he called my name, but he only called it once. I’m sure he realized he could use this to his advantage. Dammit!
Sitting around an oak wood poker table in Marc’s entertainment room, I listen to Kade talk about his first appointment. I peek at my cards. An ace and a ten, my favorite hand. I throw in a few chips and wait to see what everybody else is going to do.
“It wasn’t too bad. We just went to some party that her company was having at the MGM,” he says with a shrug.
“Uh huh, and?” Nico prods.
“Nothing,” Kade says almost defensively.
The rest of us look at each other with knowing eyes. He’s embarrassed to talk about what actually happened.
Troy finally looks at his cards and throws in his own chips, and Nico folds his hand.
“She was old as shit, wasn’t she?” Nico asks.
Kade doesn’t say anything; he looks at his cards and throws them to the center of the table. “She wasn’t that old,” he says.
I laugh. “So she was what? Forty?”
Kade looks around at us all and then runs his hand over his buzzed head, like he’s trying to brush something off the top of his head. “Okay, she was maybe sixty.”
“Knockin’ boots with the granny, huh?” Nico laughs.
“Shut up,” Kade responds, trying to hold his laughter in.
“Don’t worry about it, man,” I say. “We’ve all been there. You got your money, that’s all you gotta worry about.”
“I didn’t fuck her anyway,” he says, almost pushing Nico out of his seat. “After being presented to all of her old friends as her date, which she was obviously proud about, we went up to a hotel room.”
“Oooh!” Nico chimes in, laughing.
Kade ignores him. “She just wanted me to strip for her, and then she ran her wrinkled fingers all over my body. She kept touching my chest and abs, and talking about how it had been so long since she’d touched a man’s body that was firm with muscles.”
“It’ll get crazier,” I say.
“Marc, get your ass in here, it’s on you. I’m about to just throw your cards in,” I yell.
“I’m coming! Hold on. I just gotta get these drinks.”
Marc comes walking in holding three hook glasses in one hand and two in the other. They’re all filled with dark liquid.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“It’s just something I came up with.”
“I ain’t drinking that shit. Who knows what you just threw together. Gonna have us throwing up in here,” Nico says, taking a swig of his beer.
“Why don’t you stop being a bitch, drinking beer all the time, and move to a man’s drink?” Marc responds.
Troy starts cracking up. “He’s right. You do drink bitch drinks. I think I saw you drink something that was pink and had fruit in it.”
“Man, fuck y’all. That fruity shit was delicious.”
“Anyway, just drink it. It’s liquor. It’s what grown-ups drink,” Marc says, passing them out.
I grab the glass and smell it on instinct. “Fuck, that’s strong.”
Marc smiles. “Yeah.”
While Nico and Kade inspect their glasses, Troy, Marc and I clink our glasses together and drink.
The liquid trickles down my throat, leaving a trail of warmth. Troy must have taken a big gulp because half of his drink is gone and he’s got his eyes squinted close while he shakes his head.
“Whoo! Fuck. That’s a serious mother fucking drink right there,” Troy says.
I take another drink, and if possible, it seems even stronger. It’s not a bad taste, just strong as hell. It’s got some sort of f
lavoring in it, but it’s mostly liquor.
“What’s in it?” Nico ask, still holding the full glass of liquor.
“Oh it’s a little bit of stop asking questions and fucking drink it,” Marc replies.
Nico shoots us all a glare as we all laugh. Kade shrugs his shoulders and takes a drink.
“Damn, new kid is showing you up,” I say as I take another drink.
Nico looks around the table at each of us, then quickly downs almost the whole drink.
“Aaaah! Fuck. Oh God, that’s gross.” He starts coughing and holding his chest. He rushes into the kitchen and when he returns he’s got a water bottle attached to his mouth.
We all laugh. “Peer pressure’s a bitch,” I say.
Marc finally looks at his cards and throws in his chips. When the flop comes out, it’s two tens and a two. I’ve got three of a kind and my ace kicker. I throw in a stack of chips, raising the blind. Everybody folds except Troy.
“Take your time, baby boy,” Troy says to Nico. “You gotta enjoy it, savor it, taste it…”
“Are we still talking about liquor?” Nico asks.
“If you fuck the way you drank that, I feel sorry for your clients,” Troy says. “Just rushing to get it over with, not taking the time to enjoy the taste and feeling of it.” He shakes his head in disgust.
“Oh whatever. You don’t know how I do things. I’m a beast in the sheets.”
Troy ignores Nico’s last comment and we wait for Marc to reveal the next card. It’s a six. I check and Troy looks at me suspiciously before raising. I quickly throw in the chips to match and we wait for the river card.
The card is flipped and revealed to be an ace. Fuck yeah. That’s why this is my favorite hand. I always get lucky with it. I wait a few moments before raising, making it seem like I’m really contemplating on what to do.
Troy sits back and stares at me. “What you got, man?” he asks. But it’s not really a question he expects me to answer. He’s trying to figure out if he wants to fold or not.
Living in Sin (The Escort Series) Page 5