Downbeat (Lightning Strikes Book 4)

by Jodie Larson

  Normally, jerking off would relax me, but this time it leaves me tenser than before. Imagining her isn’t enough. A taste—like my dream—isn’t enough. I need more of her. We need more of each other because I know I’m not fabricating this whole thing in my head. She felt it too that day. I could see her pulse quicken beneath her skin. Felt her warm breath speed up against my cheek as we leaned into each other, wanting more than we could give.

  Yeah, we need more time.

  A knock at my door gives me just enough warning to pull the shirt on over my head before Brecken pokes his head inside. “About tonight.”

  “No,” I say, already annoyed because I knew he’d pull this shit on me.

  He fully opens the door and leans against the jamb, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Lizzie wanted to do something special, just the two of us. And we figured since Myles was going out that it’d be okay to cancel.”

  “Except he bailed on me too. Tatum wasn’t feeling good and asked him to stick around.”

  Once again, the loner goes out alone. Fitting.

  Breck frowns. “Look, I can tell Lizzie we’ll do it another night.”

  I wave him off, not needing his guilt dumped on me. “It’s fine. I’m a big boy. I can handle going out alone. You go enjoy your sex marathon. Just let me know if it’s safe to come home.”

  “Really,” he says, holding his hands out to the side. “We can do it another day.”

  I point to the door, forcing some levity into my voice. “Get your rocks off and if you feel like joining me later, come on out. If not, it’s fine. No big deal.”

  We slap hands and do a chest bump, knowing everything will be fine. “Will do.” Breck disappears down the hall and I wait until I hear the click of his door before leaving my room.

  Grabbing my keys, I order an Uber and wait at the lobby. Sin, my favorite club, isn’t that far away, but I know I’ll be drinking and don’t want to drive. Tonight, I’ll hang out with Tony in the DJ booth and formulate my plan to give Kylie the apology she deserves.

  I must be crazy. No, check that. Insane.

  It’s been years since I’ve gone out clubbing with friends. At least six. What on earth possessed me to agree to this?

  “You look great. Stop fidgeting.” Jenny slaps at my hands while I constantly pull down the hem of the “dress.” Oversized shirt is more like it.

  “Jen, this barely covers the necessary parts. You can’t say I look great when my ass is about ready to greet the world.”

  She heaves a dramatic sigh and pushes me to the bathroom, practically throwing me on top of the closed lid of the toilet. “Shut up and let me do my thing.” Taking out two bags, she empties the contents onto the counter and sifts through the various makeup containers. Not wanting to witness whatever she’s about to do, I close my eyes and pray she doesn’t put a clown face on me.

  “Why are you putting this extra effort into me?” It’s a stupid question because I know the answer.

  “You’ve been single for too long. You need to get out there. Find a guy. Mingle with the opposite sex. Live your life.”

  “I’m a mom.”

  “So? What’s that have to do with anything?”

  I tap my fingers against my bare leg. “Everything. My life is Jayce. I can’t go through guys like dirty laundry. What’s Jayce going to think?”

  “That his mom is happy and not afraid to put herself out there. He needs a strong role model and if you plan on cowering in the corner for the rest of your life like a beaten puppy, then I may have to take him under my wing.”

  “Hell no,” I say. “You are not going to be his role model.”

  “Why not?” She tugs at my hair and the heat from the curling iron makes me sit still for fear of getting burned.

  “Because you’re nineteen and like to party.”

  Jenny smacks my knee, to which I open my eyes to greet her very angry ones.

  “Look here. I don’t smoke, don’t do drugs. Too young to drink. I go to school and am in a committed relationship for longer than six months. On top of all that, I help around the house and pick up your son so you can have extra study time.”

  Now I feel like an ass. She’s right. She’s more mature than I ever was at nineteen. She would be a great role model for Jayce. In fact, I’d be hard-pressed to find a better one.

  “I’m sorry. You’re a great aunt, especially since you’ve been helping me with him at a very young age. I feel like I robbed part of your childhood.”

  Jenny puts down the curling iron and crouches down to my eye level. “You didn’t rob me of anything. Hell, I’d say you kept me young. Do you know how awesome it was to have a little one running around the house? It meant I could watch Nick Jr. without feeling like a loser. Bubble Guppies are everything.” She laughs and places a hand on my knee. “But you gave up a lot for me, practically raising me while mom worked.”

  “Until I bailed and went to college because I needed to get away.”

  “And no one faults you for that. You earned the right to leave. Mom wanted you to go. Remember how hard she pushed for you to get accepted out of state?”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, she threatened to take away everything I owned if I didn’t leave.”

  “So cut the shit with the guilt. This is the same thing. You deserve to get out there and live again. Have fun. Hell, go out and have a one-night stand for all I care.” Her face turns serious. “But you have to promise me you’ll talk to a guy tonight.”

  “I—I promise.”

  Whether or not I can hold that promise will be determined. I have no idea what Lila and Katie have planned for me, but I’m sure it’s nothing good. I know them well enough to know we’ll be hitting the hottest clubs and staying out until close. This night will be interesting, to say the least.

  “Good.” She picks up the curling iron again and puts the finishing touches on my hair before deeming me acceptable for Huntington Beach’s nightlife.

  Right on time, Katie honks her horn out front. Grabbing my keys and clutch, I stoop down and kiss Jayce on his forehead. “Bye, buddy. You be good for Auntie and Grandma.”

  “You look real pretty.” Jayce wraps his little arms around my neck and squeezes tight. “Don’t worry. I’ll have fun. Auntie said we could make s’mores outside before bed.”

  I flick my gaze to Jenny, who whistles and retreats to the kitchen. Returning my attention to Jayce, I smile and brush back some hair from his eyes. “No more than two, you got me? And you have to brush your teeth right after. Deal?” I hold my fist up for a bump, which he returns enthusiastically.

  “Deal. Bye, Mama. Have fun!” Without another word, he bounds into the kitchen to join Jenny, probably to make more plans that she knows I wouldn’t approve of.

  The warm evening air hits my bare legs as I walk to Katie’s car.

  “Damn, girl. You look amazing.” Katie gives a low whistle as I climb into the back seat of her Toyota Camry.

  “I feel naked. I’m not really sure this qualifies as a dress,” I say, still pulling at the hem, hoping more material will appear with each tug, and fasten the seatbelt as she takes off down the street.

  Lila swivels in the front seat to face me. “Jenny really outdid herself.”

  Feigning offense, I scoff and smack her shoulder. “What makes you think I couldn’t do this on my own?”

  “We know you,” Katie and Lila say in unison.

  I roll my eyes at their comment as they cackle at their joke.

  Within minutes, we’re in the heart of the bustling nightlife. People lined up and down the street, most dressed like us, with a few more conservative choices sprinkled throughout. Saturday nights are always busy, more so than Fridays it seems.

  Katie parks her car a few blocks away, finding the last available spot on the block. We step out and I nearly roll my ankle due to the three-inch heels my sister said I needed to wear.

  Lila links her arm with mine. “Okay, birthday girl. Food first, then drinks and who knows what els
e.”

  At least we’re starting off right, giving us a good base so I don’t puke all over the place. Not that turning twenty-seven is a big deal. Hardly worth celebrating in my book. Katie and Lila are using it as an excuse to go out, like they ever need one.

  We walk into our favorite Italian restaurant and are seated promptly after Lila gives her name to the hostess. The cold leather hits the back of my thighs higher up than I want. May not have been a good idea to wear the thong, either. Why do I listen to Jenny? I’m too old to dress like I’m her age. That ship has long sailed.

  A bottle of wine is set in a bucket of ice while the waiter distributes three glasses to us. “Good evening. My name is Brett and I’ll be your server tonight. I saw on your reservation that you had pre-ordered our finest Pinot Grigio. Will you all be needing a glass?”

  “Yes,” we reply all at once.

  Brett quietly laughs and pours the chilled wine.

  “Do you need a few minutes to look everything over?”

  I look between Katie and Lila, who are already shaking their heads. “No, we’re set,” Katie says.

  We’re nothing if not creatures of habit. It’s the same thing every time we come here. Katie gets the chicken parmesan, Lila gets the lasagna, and I get the ravioli with balsamic glaze. You’d think the entire wait staff would know us by now. Heck, I’m sure the cook will know us just by the ticket order. They really need to start a frequent flier discount or something like that. Buy twenty meals, get your next one free.

  Once Brett leaves, we raise our glasses for a toast. “To the birthday girl. May your liver be strong, and your inhibitions be weak.”

  Oh, God. This is going to go exactly how I thought it would.

  After dinner, we head down the block to Sin, their favorite spot. I’ve listened to all their stories of nights out, all the guys they end up finding and bringing home. Hell, they even have a report card system to rate them. Only the ones with a B+ average get callbacks.

  Since I haven’t really dated anyone in years, I’m a little apprehensive. The wine from dinner churns in my stomach with each step toward the club.

  Katie walks up to the bouncer, completely bypassing the line of people waiting to get in.

  “Hey, Marcus,” she says, running her hand along the guy at the door’s arm. He’s easily six-foot-five and nothing but pure muscles from his neck to his feet. I’ve never seen broad shoulders like his before, at least not in person. He could be a linebacker for the NFL. The dark, smooth skin of his forearms are laced with corded veins as he uncrosses them from his chest and smiles down at the perky redhead.

  “Girl, you back already?” Even his voice is deep and smooth. I’m getting goosebumps just listening to him.

  “You know it. Gotta celebrate this one’s birthday.” She points to me as I do my best to hide in the shadows.

  Marcus curls his finger, indicating he wants me closer. I follow his direction—mainly because he frightens me a little—and smile wide, making sure to show my teeth and praying I don’t have lipstick covering them.

  “Hi,” I say, giving a small wave.

  Marcus looks me up and down with a cocked eyebrow and an appreciative smile.

  “You the birthday girl?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yes, sir.”

  He reaches into his bag, located behind the stool near the wall, and pulls out a white button. I walk forward and nod when he silently asks to place the button on the collar of my dress.

  “There. This will get you free drinks all night.”

  What? Oh, my gosh, that’s insane.

  Lila sticks her bottom lip out. “Where’s our button?”

  “Come back when it’s your birthday and you’ll get one.” Marcus laughs and pulls back the velvet rope, giving us entrance to the club.

  “You know you have to order all our drinks tonight,” Katie says as we say our thanks to Marcus, who gives us a wink as we pass.

  “Pretty sure that’s not how this works,” I quip.

  The minute we pass through the front hall, my eyes widen at the scene before me. I can see why these two come here often. It’s enormous. Way bigger than I ever would have guessed from the outside.

  Taking center stage is a large dance floor, filled with wall to wall people, all grinding against each other, or dancing with their arms in the air. Tables line the sides. There’s a second floor with more seating areas, or who knows what else. A roped off section to the right must be the VIP area. It’s surprisingly full, with barely an empty table. I try to get a good look to see who all might be in there. No one I recognize, but I’m bad with faces. Blame it on my lack of TV watching.

  We snag a table from a group of girls leaving and set up camp. Lila and Katie look comfortable in their tank dresses and heels, while I feel like I’m going to die in my little black dress.

  “Okay, free drink girl. You’re getting the first round,” Katie yells above the music.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be getting the drinks for me?”

  “Free,” is her only response.

  Right. Free.

  I wander up to the bar, keeping my clutch handy in case this button doesn’t actually work. I weasel my way between two people and put my hand up to flag down one of the bartenders.

  There are two guys and a girl—all college-aged—running back and forth behind the bar, stopping to take drink orders while making the ones from the person before them. I don’t know how these people do it. I get frustrated when I have ten people in line. Having three times that number, all begging for my attention would drive me up the wall.

  Finally, after five minutes and my arm practically falling off, a guy comes up and gives me a once-over before smiling down at me.

  “Hey, beautiful. What can I get for you?”

  I brush off his comment and smile, showing him my button. “Can I get three screwdrivers?”

  “Sure thing. Any preference on vodka?” He leans on the bar, flexing his biceps slightly as they peek out from the sleeves of his tight black t-shirt. He’s not bad looking but trying way too hard. Not to mention, I know he’s only doing it for the tips.

  “Grey Goose, please.”

  He turns to make our drinks and I glance up and down the bar, trying not to look uncomfortable. I’m way out of my element. It’s like that dream you have when you show up to school naked. This is almost the same situation.

  Three glasses appear before me, along with the bartender’s smiling eyes. “There you go. On us.”

  Wow, I’ll be damned. “Thanks,” I say, fishing out a five and sliding it across the bar. It’s the least I can do since I feel like I’m cheating the system.

  Tucking my clutch under my arm, I grab the drinks and make my way back to the table, thankful for the experience of carrying multiple drinks at once for my job. Not a drop spilled on me or the ground. I set them down as the girls instantly grab their drinks.

  “Did it work?” Lila asks.

  I nod. “Surprisingly.”

  They both let out a loud whoop and practically drain their drinks in one gulp. Man, if they keep this up, I’ll be a puddle on the floor for sure.

  After another round, it’s dance time. As I step off the stool, my ankle threatens to roll, but I quickly recover. I’m not exactly solid on my feet with these heels. Oh please don’t let me break my ankle in front of all these people. I’m not wearing the right underwear for this.

  Lil’ Jon’s “Get Low” pounds through the speakers. All the people on the floor instantly start yelling the lyrics. The only reason I know of this song is because I asked Jenny when we watched The Proposal not that long ago and had no idea what Sandra Bullock was singing to Betty White in the woods.

  To my surprise, the shorter dress is easier to dance in. Definitely not restricting at all, though I do have to check periodically that I’m not flashing everyone on the floor.

  I do a turn, trying my best to keep up with Lila and Katie. A large hand grazes my hip. I freeze at first but relax when the guy att
ached to it appears in my line of sight.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice scratchy but kind.

  Part of me wants to push him away because I do not need a dance partner. Then Jenny’s voice rings in my head, so I nod, letting him lead the way. He smiles, letting it crinkle in the corners of his green eyes. On first appearance, he’s appealing to the eyes: tidy haircut with just enough mess so it doesn’t look overdone, tanned skin peeking out beneath his red polo shirt, and Docker’s shorts, complete with boat shoes. Not a boy, that’s for sure.

  He places both hands on my hips and pulls me close, guiding me until my groin is pressed against his. With the heels, I come up to just under his chin. I figure he’s probably six-foot, maybe six-one since I know I’m five-foot-seven.

  “Name’s Chad,” he says, bringing his mouth down to my ear.

  “Kylie,” I reply.

  His hands wander as we dance, grinding low and cupping my ass in the process. If I can still feel material between my body and his, I’ll let it pass. For now.

  I catch Lila’s gaze, who nods in appreciation as she dances with some random guy. Katie’s not too far away, dancing with her own stranger.

  This is not me. I’m not the girl who goes out and picks up guys like this. Even in college, this wasn’t my thing. This was a horrible idea.

  I try to push back from Chad, but he brings me in closer. “You need a break?”

  Nice of him to pick up on my “subtle” hint. “God, yes.” I wave my hands in front of my face, pretending that I need to cool down. A viable excuse.

  Of course, our table is gone now, so we belly up to the bar with Chad’s hand firmly planted on the small of my back. Whether it’s to scare off other guys or it’s just a resting point, I’m not sure.

  “I see it’s your birthday.” He fingers the white button on my dress. I cover it with my palm, hoping he won’t get touchy-feely with anything else near that area.

  “It is. My friends decided I needed a night out.”