Falling Angel

by Carmen Richter

  But now? Now, she was wearing a black leather miniskirt, fishnet stockings, knee-high black boots, and a silver tube top that showed her whole midriff. She was sporting a belly button ring that looked like three snowflakes dangling down over her stomach, and there was a tattoo on her hip, just above where the skirt sat, of a blue T and a pink D intertwined together.

  “Wow,” I managed to choke out, thinking about baseball stats to keep myself from developing a rising problem.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, turning a little pink.

  “Ready to head out?” I asked. “Hector went to grab the car, and Garth’s making sure there’s a clear path outside.”

  “Yeah,” she chuckled.

  “So, your tattoo. Is that your and Taylor’s initials?” I wondered as we started to walk.

  If I’d learned nothing else about her in the week and a half I’d been working for her, I at least knew that she and her friend Taylor were close. He was more like her brother than her best friend.

  “Actually, it’s our nicknames for each other. He’s always just called me D, from the very first time he met me. So I started calling him T. He designed the tattoo, and we went to get them together. He has a matching one on the inside of his wrist. I just wanted to go a little less visible with mine. I know it’s stupid, but it’s kind of like a reminder of where I came from. Helps keep my head from getting too big.”

  “That’s not stupid at all. People who are as down-to-earth as you are few and far between in your profession,” I told her.

  “He’s the only one I let get away with calling me D, so don’t get any ideas,” she teased.

  I laughed. “You don’t seem like a D to me. Shit. That did not come out right.”

  Daphne turned bright red as she broke into a fit of giggles, and Samantha and Bailey each gripped one of her arms while Willow hugged her shoulders as they started laughing too.

  “Club Rewind?” I chuckled as the car pulled up to the curb. “Really?”

  “Kind of a cheesy name, I know,” Daphne said. “But the music’s always on point and they make amazing drinks. Plus, I can always get us into the VIP section, so I don’t get mobbed by rabid fans quite as much.”

  “Hashtag first world problems,” Samantha giggled.

  “I’m not complaining about the mobbing, but it’s nice to still be able to breathe while I’m being mobbed,” Daphne clarified.

  “Nope. She’s right. First world problems,” I teased.

  She blushed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway, are we going to sit here talking about my first world problems all night or are we going in?”

  “Let’s go in! I need a drink something fierce,” Samantha sighed, casting her eyes downward.

  Through the rearview mirror, I saw Daphne hug her shoulders, looking heartbroken. I knew she was still blaming herself for that stupid picture circulating. And I also knew that, while she was upset because young girls who looked up to her might have seen that picture (not because it was with a girl, but because she liked to keep her private life private), she was more upset that her friend was dealing with the backlash.

  “I’m so sorry, Sam,” she mumbled.

  “Daph, stop it. We talked about this. It’s not your fault,” Samantha said, rubbing one of Daphne’s hands. “Come on, let’s go in, have fun, and forget about it. Like the rest of the world’s going to do within a week.”

  Garth and Hector got out of the car first, then opened the door for the girls, who piled out. I brought up the rear. I immediately realized it was a horrible idea, because I couldn’t stop myself from staring at Daphne’s ass. It was just barely covered by her miniskirt, and I found myself wishing the skirt would slide up so I could get a real look.

  With a quick flash of Daphne’s ID—which, much to my surprise, showed that DeVille was her legal last name—we were led around the side to a separate VIP entrance for the club, where another bouncer gave us all wristbands and then let us in. We climbed a short flight of stairs, and then Daphne showed her ID to yet another employee and a door opened.

  “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” by Eurythmics flooded my eardrums as we walked onto a raised platform above the main club. Plush velvet sectional couches surrounded us, while a few more private booths lined the walls, half of them full of couples trying to hide their intimate exchanges from the general public. Neon and black lights were glowing all over the place, and flashing strobe lights illuminated the crowded dance floor below us. Against one of the walls was a bar illuminated by a strip of neon lights that glinted off the glass shelves, which were full of top-shelf liquors that I’d never be able to afford in my wildest dreams.

  “Ezra! Did you hear me?” Daphne shouted.

  I turned to look at her as the song changed to Queen’s “Radio Gaga.” No, I hadn’t heard a thing she’d said. But, then again, I could barely hear myself think over this music. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been to a nightclub, but I was pretty sure the music had never been this loud. Had it?

  “I said, we grabbed a couch!” she repeated.

  She pointed to one of the sectionals, where the rest of the group had congregated. And here I was standing here like a moron.

  Wait. Why did I care if I looked like a moron to her? I was here as her bodyguard, not her date.

  I shook my head and headed over to the couch, sinking down on one of the ends. Daphne came and squeezed herself between me and Samantha. Her warmth lined my body as she made herself comfortable, and just like when I’d hugged her earlier today (or I guessed now it was yesterday), it felt…right. Comfortable. Something I hadn’t felt since high school. Since before Katelynn disappeared with nothing more than a note, leaving me to care for our one-year-old daughter by myself.

  It wasn’t that I hadn’t dated since Katelynn left me, but I hadn’t had anything that I could really call a relationship since then. Women my age were still figuring themselves out. They didn’t want a ready-made family with an eight-year-old daughter.

  A waitress approached us to take drink orders, and she turned to me last. I shook my head.

  “I’m on the job tonight,” I told her.

  “Oh, come on, Ezra!” Daphne groaned. “I’m buying. One won’t kill you.”

  Why did I have such a hard time saying no to this woman? Well, it wasn’t like I’d get drunk off of one drink. I’d still be able to do my job just fine. What was the harm in it?

  “Fine,” I chuckled. “Crown and Coke.”

  The waitress—who I now noticed was wearing tons of rubber bracelets, a short neon green skirt, a black tank top that her tits were practically spilling out of, and black go-go boots—winked at me before she turned around. I could have sworn she put a little more sway into her hips on purpose as she walked back toward the bar, and I felt Daphne bristle beside me.

  “Seriously?” she grumbled.

  “Daph, she’s just after a bigger tip,” Samantha said.

  “What’s that? She wants to play ‘just the tip’?” Garth quipped.

  Samantha, Willow, and Bailey started cracking up, while Daphne turned the color of a lobster as she chuckled uncomfortably.

  “Dude, we’re working!” I shouted over the beginning of “Don’t You Want Me” by The Human League.

  “Pull the stick out of your ass, Ramsay! We can work and have fun at the same time,” he retorted.

  Yeah, I knew that. But there was a fine line between having fun and making our clients uncomfortable. And he’d just crossed it.

  This was torture. Absolute, complete fucking torture.

  I stood at the railing of the VIP section watching Daphne dancing with her friends. Even though I’d seen her dance every night for the past week and a half, I’d never seen her like this. Onstage, every move, every step was choreographed. But now, there was no choreography. She just moved to the beat of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” like she was the only person in the room, and it was mesmerizing. She was lost in the music, her hips swaying, her arms raised
above her head, the strobe lights glinting off that belly button ring that was driving me insane.

  Should I have even noticed her belly button ring from this far away? Well, I did. It was like a beacon, demanding my attention.

  I couldn’t deny it: I noticed everything about this woman. Her perfect figure, which she didn’t even seem to put any effort into maintaining or showing off. Her gorgeous smile. The way her dimples only showed when her smile was one hundred percent genuine. Her uncommonly sweet and humble disposition. And right now, I was mesmerized by the way she was just letting loose without a care in the world, for once able to be a normal woman in her mid-twenties instead of a rock icon.

  How in the hell was I supposed to survive this concert tour when I was this attracted to the woman I was supposed to be protecting? When I had to work so closely with her every damn day?

  “You should go for it!” Hector shouted over the music.

  I turned to look at my closest friend. I had to have heard him wrong. He wasn’t actually trying to encourage me to pursue an internationally famous rock star, was he?

  “I mean it, man,” he said. “You obviously like her. She obviously likes you. You should go for it.”

  “No, thanks. I like my job,” I scoffed.

  “And you can’t mix business with pleasure?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Not my thing,” I chuckled.

  “Look, I get that you’ve got Ari, but do you really want to be alone for the rest of your life because you’re so scared of something not working out that you don’t even try?”

  “You don’t get it,” I sighed.

  “Maybe I don’t have kids, but I get where you’re coming from. But look at it this way. You’re not with Ari right now. You can at least let off a little steam while you’re on this tour. If it goes somewhere, it goes somewhere. But you can go into it with zero expectations.”

  I shook my head. Somehow I knew that it wouldn’t be that simple. Not with Daphne. She wasn’t just a random chick I’d picked up in a bar to let some steam off for the night. She was…could I even call her a friend? I’d only known her for ten days.

  Still, though. She actually meant something to me. What, I didn’t know, but something. The thought of just using her for sex rubbed me the wrong way. If for no other reason than that we still had to be able to look each other in the eye and be able to stand being around each other the next morning.

  “Ezra!” Daphne’s voice was suddenly right next to me.

  When had she come back up here? Last I remembered, she was down on the dance floor.

  Fuck. I needed to get my head in the game. I was here to protect her, not daydream about her.

  I turned to look at her, and she was smiling at me, showing off those adorable dimples, as she took a drink out of a mostly empty margarita glass.

  “Come dance with us!” she yelled over Pat Benatar singing about love being a battlefield.

  I shook my head. “I’m working.”

  “Come on. Please?” she pouted.

  “I’m here to protect you tonight,” I reminded her.

  She took my hand. Though her hand was tiny, somehow it fit in mine like it belonged there.

  “Then keep me close,” she said, sounding…shy? Vulnerable?

  She’s drunk, I told myself. She won’t even remember this tomorrow.

  And that meant I couldn’t take advantage of this situation.

  “It’s just a dance, Ezra. That’s all.”

  A dance. That was all this was. And I could still do my job and make sure no one got inappropriate with her. In fact, I could do that better from the dance floor than I could from up in the VIP section.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  She finished the rest of her drink in one gulp, put the empty glass on a nearby table, and then led me down to the dance floor.

  The song changed to Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up,” and Daphne broke into a fit of giggles as we wove through the sea of people, trying to find the rest of our group.

  “Oh, my God! Are they seriously Rick-rolling us right now?” she laughed.

  I snorted. Yeah, she was drunk.

  “Apparently,” I chuckled.

  After a few minutes, we finally found the rest of the girls, along with Garth, who had joined them when they first came down here and now had Samantha wrapped around him like a vine as they moved to the music.

  “Heartbreak Beat” by the Psychedelic Furs started playing, and Daphne turned around to face me as she started swaying to the beat. Seeming to have a mind of their own, my hands gravitated to her hips, pulling her closer to me as I matched her hypnotic rhythm.

  Daphne’s arms snaked around my neck and she smiled and moved even closer. Before I could stop her, she was pressed right up against me and I could have sworn I heard a whimper as she came into contact with the increasingly uncomfortable bulge in my pants. I tried to back away a little, but she clung to me like a vice, refusing to separate from me.

  This was a terrible idea. Having her in my arms like this, pressed against me, was even worse than watching her dance from a distance. Because like this, it was way too easy to imagine what it would be like if things were different. Tiny as she was, her body molded against mine perfectly. She fit in my arms like they were made for her. And the electricity between us was so intense that I could almost see the sparks crackling.

  As the song ended, her eyes flicked to mine, then focused on my lips briefly before coming back up to meet my eyes again. We both stopped moving at the exact same time, but neither of us made a move to separate. It was like each of us was waiting to see what the other person would do.

  Fuck, I wanted to kiss her right now. So badly I could taste it. And it seemed like she wanted me to.

  But I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted to. This was a job, she was a client, and I wasn’t going to take advantage of the fact that she’d had a little too much to drink tonight.

  I let go of Daphne, turned, and made my way off the dance floor before I made a colossal mistake that I knew we’d both end up regretting.

  I stood there staring as I watched Ezra walk away from me, unable to unfreeze myself so I could move from this spot.

  Was he about to kiss me just now? It sure as hell seemed like it. And God, I wanted him to. I didn’t think I’d ever wanted a kiss so much in my life. But then he’d just turned and walked away instead.

  Maybe I’d been reading it wrong. When I looked up at him in the VIP section, the way he was looking at me didn’t seem like a bodyguard who was getting paid to watch over me. It seemed like he was watching me, wishing that he could be down on the dance floor with me. That was why I’d gone up there to get him to come down and dance with us.

  But in a dark nightclub, with a ton of people all pressed up against each other, moving to the music, it was easy to misread signals. Add the three margaritas I’d had to the mix? Basically a recipe for disaster.

  We’d been friendly with each other since he’d started this job, and when he hugged me today…I couldn’t explain it. It felt like the world made sense for a second. I knew it was stupid to feel like that from a hug, but I had no other way to describe what it had felt like. It was so easy to talk to him too, and unlike most people I worked with, he actually cared about me as a person.

  I felt something hard land on my shoulder and turned to see Samantha next to me, with her casted arm wrapped around me.

  “You okay?” she mouthed over the sound of “Take on Me” by a-Ha.

  I couldn’t hear myself think in here, let alone begin to have a conversation. So I pointed toward the bathrooms, and she nodded. We started moving in that direction, and she grabbed Bailey and Willow on the way. Once the door shut behind us and I locked it just to make sure no one else would walk in and notice me here, I turned to face them.

  “Okay, what’s going on, Daph?” Willow asked, pulling her auburn hair back into a ponytail.

  I sighed as I leaned against a sink. “It’s stupid.”


  “It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you,” Samantha said. “What’s wrong, babe?”

  “I could have sworn Ezra was about to kiss me just now. But then he turned and walked away.”

  “I thought he was going to too,” Bailey agreed. “I was actually shocked when he didn’t.”

  “I mean, we’re in a nightclub. There’s sexual tension oozing on the dance floor. Maybe I misread it?” I questioned. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset by it. I’ve only known the guy for a week and a half.”

  “It doesn’t matter how long you’ve known him,” Samantha said. “I see how the two of you act around each other every day. There’s obviously something there. But you have to remember, even though you don’t personally sign his paychecks, he technically works for you. Maybe he was afraid of crossing a line.”

  “Actually, I’m sure that’s what was going on,” Willow chimed in.

  “So, what do I do?”

  “I know you’re not the type, but I think if you want something more than friendship with him, you’ll have to be the one to make a move,” Bailey said. “Because he won’t want to risk his job by making a move if you’re not interested.”

  “I don’t know what I want,” I admitted. “I mean, I wanted to kiss him just now, but maybe it’s just the atmosphere and the three margaritas I’ve had.”

  “It’s okay not to know. Like you said, you’ve only known the guy for a week and a half. There’s nothing wrong with taking some time to figure it out and getting to know him better first,” Samantha told me.

  I nodded. “You’re right. I don’t even know why it upset me so much.”

  “That’s nothing another margarita and more dancing can’t fix.” Willow grabbed my hand. “Come on.”

  She started to lead me to the door, and Bailey turned to come with us. Samantha stayed where she was, so I turned and looked at her.

  “You coming, Sam?” I asked.