He looked at the overcrowded bar and shook his head no. “If you want into the VIP loft, I need to take you there now. I need to be in position before the announcement.”
Emily stepped between us. “C’mon, Chloe, don’t ruin this for us. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this!”
“You guys go ahead. I’ll be fine,” I shouted. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Emily and Elle smiled, satisfied, while Matt’s face turned to a scowl.
“There’s a bar in the loft, Chloe,” Matt replied. “It’ll only take a minute to get there. In fact, you’ll get a drink a hell of a lot quicker there than you will here.”
“Fine,” I said. The sooner I could get a drink to help wipe away the thoughts of my sister and Ryan…the better.
He led us up the stairs to a balcony area scattered with high-top tables…no chairs. The sea of heads in the crowd on the dance floor below jumped in unison to the beat. I never realized how big this club actually was until seeing it now from this height.
After crossing the balcony, he held open the door to the private loft for us to enter. He whispered something to the security guard covering the door, then smiled at me.
“Have fun, Pink,” he winked.
“Aren’t you coming in with us?”
“Not now. Workin’. Promise me something, though?”
I nodded.
“Wait for me.”
Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to do exactly that. Everything about that fact confused me. I watched him disappear into the crowd before I entered the loft, all the while admiring his stunning physique and trying to figure out the calming effect he had on me.
As I walked into the room and the door closed behind me, the noise subsided considerably. The bass still vibrated through the glass walls that extended from the floor to the ceiling and overlooked the floor below, but in this private room, voices could be more easily heard over the music.
People were scattered throughout the loft, but it was nowhere near as crowded as the rest of the club. I remained by the glass wall, watching through the laser lights below as Matt made his way through the crowd to the stage. If you could even call it a stage. For such a huge building, the square stage that rose about waist-high and only stretched out about twelve feet on each side seemed a bit inadequate, especially since the back half of it remained permanently occupied by the DJ booth.
Emily and Elle approached me, shot glasses in hand, and Elle handed me one.
“What’s this?” I asked, as I took it from her.
“Kamikaze, baby!” she replied.
“Thanks, sweetie,” I acknowledged. “Cheers to you finally getting to meet your boyfriend tonight!”
I had almost forgotten what I came here to do, but the cool lime taste of the shot instantly reminded me. I licked my lips after slamming it. “C’mon, I’ll get the next one.”
We ordered our drinks and downed two more shots at the bar—a hot damn and an absolute bitch—before I heard the music stop and a woman’s voice coming through the speakers.
“Hello, ladies,” her seductive voice purred into the microphone.
The women in the audience screamed and shouted. I walked to the glass wall, drink in hand, to get a better view. Emily and Elle followed.
“And gentlemen,” the woman continued.
The men in the crowd hollered and howled in applause.
Security guards surrounded the stage, Matt now one of them. I wanted to direct my attention elsewhere, but my eyes were fixated on him. I loved how strong and in control he appeared at the moment, in front of the charged-up people that encircled the stage. Then, he looked at me. I don’t mean looked up toward the loft…I mean, directly at me and into my soul. Like his gaze was designed to find mine.
I lifted my drink towards him as if to say ‘cheers’ and took a sip. He winked in reaction.
“Rain has hosted some amazing entertainers since we opened our doors a few months ago,” the woman continued, “but nothing compares to who we have here for you tonight.”
Applause erupted. Matt’s attention diverted back to the crowd.
“How many of you have heard of a little show called American Muscle?” she paused for the audience response. And she got it ten-fold. “That’s right people, in the house tonight we’ve got a father who warms our hearts”—more cheering exploded— “and a son who melts. Our. Panties.”
The ladies in the club went crazy with that. Some of them screamed. Some of them began chanting Marc’s name. Others hugged each other while bouncing up and down. Emily and Elle did all of the above. And hell, I didn’t give two shits whether or not I saw Marc Davis, but I was here to have fun and forget the events that brought me here tonight, so I happily jumped right into their celebration.
Feeding from the energy of the crowd, the MC’s sultry voice became more animated, “It is my great pleasure to introduce to you tonight…the stars of American Muscle…Dalton and Marc Daaaavis!”
More cheers broke out on the floor and in the loft as Dalton and Marc took stage and waved to the audience, a dance beat providing the backdrop to their entry. Marc carried a bottle of champagne in hand, his fans going wild as he shook it and sprayed the contents all over them.
Matt didn’t seem to be happy about it, though. Especially when he got doused with it. Something about the grimace on his face mixed with the fact that he kept in complete control, arms folded across his chest and not moving an inch, caused me to giggle. I bet he was pissed.
The MC handed both men their own mics and stepped into the background. Dalton said a few “thank yous” into the microphone as the music died down, followed by a sexy “hey” by Marc. Naturally, anything Marc said resulted in immediate screams from the women in the club.
“As you may or may not know,” Dalton started, “my son and I are here to make an important announcement tonight. You may be thinking to yourself, ‘why here? Why did they come from a big city like Vegas to this Midwestern town?’ The answer to that, friends, is that this little town is where I was born and raised.”
A few claps and cheers resonated from the crowd, but like me, most people listened attentively, wanting to hear more.
“Before I moved to Vegas…before the glitz and glamour…before the lights and cameras…before the American Muscle TV show was even a figment of my imagination…I was a young married man with a newborn child,” he patted Marc on the shoulder, “working at a little car repair garage called Davis Automotive, right here in this very town. My father owned that shop, and it’s where I learned everything I know about cars. When he passed on and the shop went under, well, I guess you could say I took it hard. So hard that I packed up my family and fled from this town for a new start. I’ve found success since then, in more ways than one. And now it’s time to get back to my roots.
“If you watch the show, you know that Marc and I have been butting heads a bit lately. Without going too far into our personal details, let it be known that we’ve come to a mutual agreement to repair what’s left of our relationship. And in order to come together as father and son, we’ve made the difficult decision to part ways as far as the show is concerned, which means Marc will not be a regular cast member on the next season of American Muscle.”
Gasps and boos sounded from the crowd.
“Don’t worry now, folks. Marc and I will maintain our relationship on a personal level, and the show will go on, stronger than ever. Before I get into how we’re going to make that happen, Marc has a little something to tell you that is going to ease your minds and your hearts. Marc, why don’t you share your news.”
“Thanks, Pop.” Marc swaggered to the front of the stage. A woman shouted, “I love you, Marc,” and he responded by blowing her a kiss. He raised the microphone to his lips, “Just because you won’t be seeing me on American Muscle anymore, doesn’t mean you won’t be seeing me at all. For the last few months, I’ve been working on a little something with the show’s producers, and my beautiful mother who cou
ldn’t be here tonight because, let’s face it, the spotlight has never been her thing and the club scene just isn’t for her. But tonight, I’m here to tell you that all of our negotiations have finally paid off.
“Lord knows I’ve been lucky in life. I was born into an amazing family, and I never had to worry about where my next meal would come from. Yet, as you’ve seen on the show and in the tabloids, I’ve strayed from the norm, and let’s just say I’ve been known to live in the moment. The absolute angel that is my mother thinks I need a good woman in my life to straighten me up and settle me down. But I’m not so sure. Let me ask you this…how many of you ladies think I can be tamed?”
Screams erupted throughout the club. Marc chuckled at the audience reaction. “Well, let me tell you right now, it’s no secret that I love to love women. But long-term love is not in my forecast, and I have no plans to settle down any time soon. Love in the short-term, however, is right up my alley. So what, pray-tell, is a man like me to do to please his dear ol' mom?”
A woman in the crowd yelled, “Marry me, Marc!”
People laughed and clapped at the remark.
Marc gave the woman a wink before continuing his speech. “He comes to a compromise, that’s what he does. He agrees to work with her on a dating show with a twist. Twenty-four women. One goes home every evening. I pick half the cast, and my mom picks the other half. Oh, and one more thing. She and I have to agree on who gets the boot every night.”
One of the men in the crowd yelled, “Mama’s boy!” while the women throughout the building began to either shit themselves or faint. Or that’s how it seemed anyway.
“Tomorrow afternoon, right here in the town where Dalton and Felicia Davis fell in love, we’ll have an open casting call for the new dating show that I’ll be starring in, called American Hook-Up. My mom thinks she’ll find the love of my life in this little town that she calls wholesome. As for me…I plan on enjoying the ride.”
“Oh. My. God!” Emily screamed. “Did you guys hear that? I’m going to date Marc Davis for real!”
“Me too!” Elle cried. “Holy shit, what if we’re in the final two, Emily?!”
“Yeah, that would be cool,” Emily said unconvincingly, a twinge of exasperation crossing her face before she covered it up with a giddy laugh. “Just don’t freak out when he picks me.”
Elle rolled her eyes, “I won’t if you won’t. Hey! We need a plan for when we meet him tonight. We need to use the extra time we’ll have with him to our advantage. Chloe, are you in?”
“No thanks,” I shook my head. “He’s not my type.”
“Since when do you have a type?” Elle blurted.
“Good,” Emily replied before I had a chance to react to that question, “that means he’s all ours, Elle.”
I excused myself to the bar and ordered a whiskey sour while they plotted their plan. My buzz had already taken effect, and normally, my next step would be to land my one-nighter. In scoping the room and considering my options—a variety of executives, waiters, tatted-up men and college-aged guys—none of them inspired me enough to make a move. Sure, there were plenty of candidates that could easily meet my needs, but each time I had one in sight, my inner voice shouted, “Not your type.”
Just as I finished my drink, the bartender set another one in front of me.
“From the gentleman,” he said, pointing to a man down the bar who eyed me with a subtle grin.
Shit. With a basic black t-shirt and jeans, the stubble-covered jawline of a Calvin Klein model, and messy caramel hair, this man would have most women’s hearts pounding in an instant. Hell, in any normal circumstance, he’d have my heart hammering out of my chest. But the compulsion to scratch that proverbial itch that typically pestered deep within me, the familiar pull that drew me toward men like him—men who only had one expectation—was missing. What the fuck was happening?
And then my answer walked through the door. All six-foot-three of him. The voice inside drawled, “Aww, yeah…Now that’s your type.”
An entourage followed Matt, first Dalton, next Marc with two women—one on each arm, followed by some beefed-up dudes, a crowd of roughly twenty more people—mostly girls, and finally two more men with black “security” shirts like the one Matt had on.
The people in the room clapped and congratulated the father and son, but I barely noticed because the moment I saw Matt, the gravitational pull was back. My need to have a man had just aligned perfectly with the draw of finding the right one.
Except, he wasn’t the right one at all. He was my friend. Anything more would be too complicated. Wouldn’t it?
I watched as Dalton said a few things to Matt before shaking his hand and walking to another part of the room to chat with some of the other party attendees. Matt took a quick look around, appearing to assess any security situations, but other than Emily and Elle smothering Marc, there seemed to be nothing to worry about.
Just as Matt’s eyes met mine, a deep voice from the right side of me said, “Hey, I’m Josh.”
The warmth in Matt’s eyes quickly turned cold when his eyes landed on the man next to me. Disappointment festered in his face. And when he shook it off and ever so slightly nodded at me in understanding, as if he was telling me he accepted my spending time with someone else, my heart sank because the only person I wanted to spend my time with—was him.
I faced the guy who spoke, the one who bought me the drink, and said politely, “Thank you for the drink, Josh. But I can’t accept it. I’m here with someone.”
“I should’ve known,” he shook his head, disappointed. “Beautiful girls like you usually are. I hope he appreciates how lucky he is.”
I huffed out a laugh, “If you knew anything about me, you’d reconsider that statement. Thanks for the compliment, though.”
With lust in his eyes, he hesitated like he wasn’t ready to end this conversation yet. “Alright, I can take a hint. Keep the drink, babe.” He handed me a napkin with some writing on it. “Here’s my number in case you change your mind and want to be here with me instead.” I reached out to take it, but he held onto it as he brought his face seductively closer to mine. “Trust me when I say—you wouldn’t regret it.”
Intrigued, I took the number and gave him a goodbye smile, ignoring the cocktail. I wasn’t about to be tricked into owing him something just because he bought me a drink. “I’ll keep that in mind. Nice to meet you, Josh.”
As sexy as this guy was, he just didn’t stir anything inside of me. Another night, maybe he would, but tonight, all I wanted was Matt.
“Wait,” he said as I stood up to leave, “What’s your name?”
“Chloe,” I answered just before stuffing the napkin in my pants pocket and walking away.
Matt didn’t wait around to witness my conversation with Josh. In fact, he was nowhere to be found. After searching the loft for a few minutes, I finally found him talking to another security guy with his back turned to me.
“Hey!” I shouted over the music, heart pounding, wanting his attention and knowing I needed to make a bold move but was completely unsure of what to say. Only when he turned and his eyes met mine did I gain the strength to tell him exactly what was on my mind. “Wait for me…that’s what you said to me. Right?”
He nodded, a tiny little smirk crossing his lips.
“Well, that’s what I’m doing. Waiting for you, Matt. Nobody else. Just you.”
He brought his face to mine. Just when I thought he would kiss me, his lips found their way to my ear instead, and he tenderly whispered, “You don’t owe me anything, Chloe. It’s okay. If you want to go, you can go.”
He thought I was only waiting for him because he got me into the club tonight? Shit.
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” I said with resolve. “I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
~Chloe~
Age 17
For past few years, my sister made good on her promise of taking care of me. She obtained
legal guardianship of me and became the mother I needed and sister I wanted all in one. She left school immediately and got a full-time, entry-level job working reception at a doctor’s office to pay the bills. The life insurance policy that our parents left us luckily allowed us to keep our modest house.
She tried to keep her relationship strong with the boyfriend she met in her first week of college, the one she brought home for Thanksgiving for us to meet, but after a while, their conflicting priorities and the long distance tore them apart.
The breakup hit her hard. She called him her first love and phoned in sick to work three days in a row after they split. After lying in bed and eating ice cream for those three days, she finally emerged from her room with a renewed determination for being the best caregiver to me that she knew how to be. In fact, after the breakup, I became her only priority.
She worked hard to prove to the courts that she was the most capable person to take care of me, and she continued to take her responsibility for me seriously, even after the therapy stopped and the case workers quit visiting.
As a sister, she understood boy problems and friend problems and talked me through them. She allowed me to make the mistakes I needed to make in order to learn and grow. As a mother-figure, she made me think about my choices whenever I made bad ones, yet she never spoke to me in a condescending way.
That all changed when I met Ryan. At the time, I didn’t know why she changed so drastically. All I knew was that something snapped. And it started when she found out his age. I wished I had never told her.
I climbed into her bed when I got home from the concert where I had met him. I was still high from the music and from the way he made me feel, and it had become a ritual for me to wake her upon returning home from anything exhilarating that happened. And meeting him was beyond exhilarating.
“Brynn, wake up,” I gave her a shake. “Are you up?”
“Mmm. Yeah. What?”
“I met someone.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Brynn, he’s perfect! I mean, I thought he was hot before I talked to him, but when I did, he became more than hot. He became…beautiful. His voice, the things he said…it’s like we just clicked.”
The Fragile Line: Part One (The Fine Line #2) Page 9