Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Jess was back to her usual tough, no-nonsense self. “Good. Maybe now you’ll get out there a little, so you can meet someone terrific. Charlie wasn’t good enough for you anyway.”
“Thanks, Jess.”
She grinned at me then. “You know, even though you’re working Friday, it wouldn’t kill you to slip your phone number to a hot guy or two at that club.”
Like that was going to happen. But to placate her I said, “Maybe.”
“What are you going to wear?”
I shrugged and took a sip of iced tea. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, here’s a tip: the homeless beach bum look isn’t gonna fly at that nightclub. You won’t even get in the door.”
“Seriously? They’ll keep me out for not dressing right?”
Jess sighed and shook her head. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. Poor, fashion-senseless Jamie. Of course they’ll keep you out for not dressing right! But you can wear one of the outfits I picked out for you.” And now she looked positively giddy.
“Oh no. Not the manslut clothes.” Jess had dragged me shopping shortly after Charlie dumped me, insisting I needed some outfits to go with my new, carefree bachelor lifestyle. And apparently the bachelor lifestyle involved clothes that made me look like a hooker.
“Oh yes. If ever there was a time and place for the manslut clothes, this is it!”
“Well, ok. I guess it’s time they made their debut.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “You went out to that gay bar last month. Didn’t you wear any of your new clothes then?”
“No. And you know what? I still got hit on, even in a regular t-shirt and jeans.”
“Did you get hit on by anyone under thirty?”
“Well, no. But what difference does that make?”
Jess shrugged. “I’m just saying. Now hurry up and finish your lunch. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Plus it’s been a whole forty five minutes since you’ve spoken to Fernando,” I teased.
“Plus that.”
“Tell him to say hi to the ducks for me.” I flashed her a huge smile.
And she sighed in frustration and exclaimed, “They’re not ducks!”
Chapter Two
I stood on the sidewalk outside Teplov’s nightclub that Friday night, contemplating the club’s name, which was written in blue neon Cyrillic letters over the doorway. It looked a little like they spelled 0-6-0-pot. I had no clue how the word was pronounced in Russian. But all the cool kids (and me, because I’d read Teplov’s file) knew to call the club by the English translation: Revolution.
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling totally self-conscious in my outfit. Under my everyday hoodie (which Jess would have ripped off my body and thrown in a dumpster if she’d seen me wearing it) I was dressed in a turquoise t-shirt and dark jeans, both of which looked completely painted on. The pants were so tight that I couldn’t even wear regular boxers with them, necessitating the super uncomfortable thong (also purchased at Jess’s assistance) that was now lodged between my ass cheeks. It was all I could do to stop myself from trying to dig the thong wedgie out of my butt in an utterly graceless and embarrassing move.
But ok, apparently the manslut clothes were doing their job, because I was soon waved to the front of the line of men and women waiting to get into the club, carded, and let in by a bored-looking bouncer.
It was painfully loud and hot as hell inside, and I shucked off my jacket as I pushed through the wall of bodies on the dance floor. I did a few laps around the main part of the club and checked in the restroom, and didn’t spot any blatant drug use or dealing. I took my time observing faces as well, but it was your run-of-the-mill twenty something party crowd. No one seemed suspicious, and no one matched the mug shots I’d memorized. I decided to check out the VIP lounge.
The lounge was at the back of the bar, and predictably, the door was guarded by a couple enormous guys who looked like they’d been injecting steroids since grade school. Ok, now how was I supposed to get inside?
There was an informal line to the side of the door, and I raised an eyebrow at the group of guys assembled there. All of them were young and good-looking. And all of them were blonde. It was like an open audition for the role of Hansel in some bizarre fairy tale musical. What was up with that?
One of the ‘roid monsters at the door beckoned to me, and I actually did one of those ‘Who, me?’ things, looking around like an idiot to see who he might be gesturing to. The bouncer seemed to be fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he came up to me and said, “You’re invited to join our guests in the VIP lounge.”
“Oh. Um, ok. Thanks,” I stammered, then followed him to the door. I was asked to show my i.d. again, and he swiped it over some sort of reader before handing it back to me. Then he held the door open and said, “Enjoy your evening, sir.”