Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
She saunters off, with a wicked sway in her hips. Objectively, she’s pretty, and maybe if I’d never met Stella, she’d have caught my eye. But sadly, like the lovestruck fool I am, no one else compares.
“You’re really thinking about having Ben’s bachelor party here?” I ask once she’s out of sight.
“Yeah, seems like as good a place as any. Why? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Seems weird to me.”
“Weird how? Hot chicks and alcohol... sounds like heaven, man.”
“For a single guy, sure. But one who’s about to get married probably shouldn’t have some random woman’s naked tits in his face.”
Slowly, Orion nods. “Yeah, you might have a point there.”
But before I can say I told you so, the music cuts out and the lights flicker. I turn to him with my brows raised in question. He shrugs, as clueless as I am about what’s going on.
“ATF, get your wallets ready,” the DJ’s voice booms through the club, “because up next is your all-time favorite, Birdie!”
Several men vacate their seats in favor of crowding around the stage as the music starts up. Orion and I exchange confused glances as a plucky guitar rhythm resonates through the space.
It’s definitely not the kind of music that comes to mind when you think of a stripper, but circumstances aside, it’s not bad.
And then the vocals kick in.
“Dude.” I nudge Orion with my elbow. “Is that... Britney Spears?”
“It’s a cover,” he says, his eyes never leaving the stage.
I follow his line of sight to see what has him so transfixed, and while the woman writhing sensuously under the neon lights on the stage does nothing for me, my best friend seems to be totally caught in her snare.
In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s two seconds away from rushing the stage and kidnapping her.
Dressed in only a pair of red leather bootie shorts and nipple pasties, the way her body moves seems to defy the laws of physics.
But, she’s no Stella.
“Got a little drool,” I murmur, nudging him again.
“Shut the fuck up.” He bolts up from his seat, and I stand too in case he’s actually about to charge the stage.
My worry melts away when he heads for the exit, that is until he makes a sharp turn toward the bar. “Y’all offer private shows?”
The bartender eyes him up like he’s a snack. Too bad Orion only likes women, because from the looks this guy is throwing his way, he’d be a sure thing. “Like lap dances? Yeah, we do.”
“Does she?” he asks, nodding to the black-haired dancer on the stage.
“Dude.” I throw my hands up into the air. “Are you serious?”
“She does.” The bartender nods. “Lap, couch, or bed. But no extras.”
“Sign. Me. The. Fuck. Up.”
I step to the side while Orion puts his name on Birdie’s list, scowling all the while. Even if his puppy-like enthusiasm is mildly amusing.
When he’s done, he whirls around to face me, a stupid grin on his face. “You want one too? Any of the lovely ladies catch your eye?”
“Nah, man. I’m out.”
“You’re leaving?” he asks in disbelief.
“I think we both know this isn’t my scene.” I level him with a glare. “Next time you want to chill, let’s actually chill. Being your third wheel at the strip club damn sure isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“Sorry, man.” He has the decency to look remorseful. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Mom’s been asking.”
I hesitate before nodding, torn between knowing Stella will be there and also knowing Mrs. C will be too.
Deep down, I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. Hell, she wasn’t even talking to me, much less about. But words have power, and hers hit me just right.
“Yeah, man. I’ll be there.”
Chapter Eight
Samson
I’ve slept like shit since coming home—since I left, if I’m being honest—and last night was no different.
If I’m not up all night beating myself up over all the things I could have done differently, then I’m reminiscing about the past, like the sad sap I am.
But this morning, as the clock slowly ticked forward, an epiphany hit me.
Stella isn’t just going to let me slide back into her good graces. She’s stubborn as hell and is absolutely going to make me work for every inch of ground I gain.
Which is why I’m making a small detour on my way to dinner. I may not remember too much about my birth parents, but I can vividly recall my dad coming home with flowers for my mom every single payday. She would smile and fuss and carry on like he’d given her something precious.
I guess, in a way, he had. Not in the flowers themselves, but in his intention.
Things between Stella and me are murky… my intentions aren’t clear. But that’s something I intend to change. She’s going to know exactly how serious I am about fixing this goddamn rift I’ve created, one way or another.