10. Fox
FOX
“Your adoring fans are waiting for you,” Az declares as he drags me away from the beauty at the bar.
“Have I ever told you how much I fucking hate you?” I growl through gritted teeth.
"Every single day," Az replies, his tone mocking.
“It’s not enough.” My eyes narrow in frustration and longing as I'm reluctantly dragged away from the temptation at the bar. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol.
“Well, the next time the club president position opens up, you put your hat in the ring, and then you can make the decisions.”
Internally, I scoff at the notion. The likelihood of me becoming the club president is as improbable as hell freezing over. I'm well aware that my only shot at the position would be if Az either steps down or meets an untimely end, but even then, Asher, Az's twin, and our vice president, would undoubtedly step into the role.
The crowd around Eden is massive. Readers, other authors based on the lanyards draped about their necks, and enthusiasts alike, each buzzing with excitement. Normally, crowds like this don’t bother me. Lots of people usually meant I wasn’t going home alone that night. But this is a completely different animal. The only place I want to be is back at the bar drinking with the redhead but leave it to my asshole club president to pull me away as I was sealing the deal on a good fucking night for myself.
“It’s your time to shine. Go sell her readers the fictional dream, big guy.”
I roll my eyes as I step into the gauntlet. The moment I step into the throng, I'm met with a wave of adoration that makes my skin itch. All eyes are on me, sparkling with excitement, and there’s nothing quite like being treated as if you're some kind of rock star when all you want is to keep your head low and slide through unnoticed.
Eden waves for me to join her at the center of her fans. I walk to Eden and settle at her side trying to relax and look like I am comfortable.
“Is that who I think it is?” A girl moves toward me, her lanyard swinging as she approaches. She has wide brown eyes that dart between mine and Eden's before focusing back on me like I’m the prize at some twisted carnival game. “He’s real?”
“Is it true? Are you really Ares?” One woman asks.
“Yes, it is. I know many of you wanted to meet him, so I just had to bring him to the signing. Everyone, meet Ares.”
“Hi, I’m Ares,” I murmur, forcing a half-smile. The room erupts with excitement, high-pitched gasps and claps echoing as if I've just thrown the first pitch at a game everyone was dying to see. The name is bound to fiction and constantly reminds me that I am here against my will.
“Okay, okay!” Eden interjects. “Questions! Let’s do some questions!”
“Okay, so, I’m just going to ask what everyone else is dying to know. Did you really meet Eden at the last signing? Is that story true?” A bold voice rises from the front.
I look at Eden, who raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this more than she should. It's surreal being placed on this pedestal, where my story is woven from threads of seduction and danger, all crafted from Eden's imagination. When the reality pales in comparison.
“Um,” I begin, stalling as I try to find the right answer. Truthfully, we did meet at the last signing, but the rest of the story is all bullshit. “Yeah,” I finally force out.
“Are you as big as Eden describes in the book?” Another voice rings out over the rest of the crowd. Fuck. How do I answer that question? I didn’t read her fucking book, something that I now regret because I have no idea how big she said I was. The crowd anxiously awaits my answer. “Sugar, not everyone can be as blessed as I am in the dick department.”
“Daaaammmn, Eden. You’re so lucky.”
“What can I say? I know how to pick my badass bikers, am I right?”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, a tidal wave of amusement that sweeps me along, but in reality, I'm sweating bullets.
“Tell us more!” someone shouts, enthusiasm pulsing through the air. “What else happened between you two?”
“You mean besides the obvious?” Eden laughs, rubbing her pregnant belly.
“Are you excited to be a dad, Ares?”
The question catches me off guard. I knew they’d ask about that, but I hadn’t exactly worked out how I would approach that question considering the only child I have and will ever have is a four-pound chihuahua back home. “Alright, ladies,” I pivot, playing along with her game. “Let’s not forget who really wears the crown here.” I toss a glance over at Eden, letting my voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper. “I may be Ares, but she’s got the pen.”
“Tell us more!” someone screams excitedly from the back of the throng.
Eden laughs and nudges my shoulder.
“More stories! More secrets!”
“Okay,” I relent, rallying myself against the feeling of vulnerability that creeps over me, “I’ll tell you something, but you all have to keep it between us.”
They lean forward as one body. A single hive of anticipation.
“Fine, fine,” Eden urges with feigned impatience. “Tell them how you swept me off my feet.”
“Right,” I grunt skeptically. “So, there we were…” I start before the lights start flashing off and on. A male voice cuts through the crowd announcing that we were all being kicked out of the bar area. Saved by the fucking security guards.
“I guess we’ll just have to save that story for later, huh, baby?” I coo to Eden and her fans.
A collective aww comes from her fans. “It was just getting spicy,” one of them remarks.
“Thanks for coming, everyone. We’ll see you all tomorrow at the signing,” Eden declares.
“Will Ares be there?”
“Absolutely, he will,” Eden smiles at me. “We’ll both be ready for you at the signing. See you all real soon.” She looks over at me and reaches down, threading her fingers through my hand before she leans into my side. “Ready to take me up to our room?”
I stifle a recoil at her suggestion and force a smile to my face. Game face, asshole. Keep it together. “Absolutely, baby.” Fuck. The words taste like ash in my mouth.
The moment we step away from the chaotic energy of the crowd, I feel the tension begin to ease some, but it lingers like a low rumble in my gut.
“Can you believe them?” she bursts out, throwing her head back in laughter. “They were eating up every word!”
“What’s next? A fan club?”
“Maybe you’ll get your own merchandise!” she laughs again, genuinely amused by the idea. “Just think, t-shirts with your face on them.”
I groan dramatically, pulling her along as we weave through the side exit of the bar to avoid the lingering eyes of eager fans. “If that happens, I’m burning all of them.”
“Not a chance! You’re too good at this. Way too good,” she insists while nudging me playfully with her shoulder. “Admit it, you enjoyed being Ares for a night.”
“More like a means to an end,” I counter, though there’s no real bite behind my words. God knows I’d rather be anywhere else but here. My gaze slips back over to the bar area, praying that my firefly is still there waiting on me, but she’s not there. I pivot, scanning the crowd slipping out of the bar behind us.
Eden notices I’m distracted, her gaze flickering back and forth between my face and the bar area behind us. She tilts her head, curiosity etched in every feature. “Hey, what’s got you so focused over there?”
I force a laugh, “Just making sure we’re not being followed by any crazed fans,” I lie smoothly.
Her brow furrows slightly. She doesn’t buy it for a second. “What’s her name?”
“What?”
“I’m not stupid, Foxy. You’re not exactly subtle when you’re on the prowl.”
“I’m not looking for someone,” I lie.
“It sure looks like you’re scanning every table and booth for someone.” She angles her head sideways. “What’s her name?”
“She didn’t give me her name,” I admit.
Eden raises her eyebrows. “So, you did find someone. I knew it!”
I shake my head, half-amused, half-annoyed. “It’s not what you think. I was just talking to someone,” I insist, glancing back for the briefest moment, but the crowd has scattered.
“Talking to someone? Please, Foxy. I’ve seen that look on your face before. What was she wearing? Was she hot?”
“Just some girl,” I shrug, attempting to play it cool while my pulse races like it’s doing an Olympic sprint in my chest. “It’s nothing serious.”
“Nothing serious?” she echoes, mirth dancing in her eyes. “And since when have you ever settled for ‘nothing serious’? You’re practically the poster boy for ‘why have one when you can have them all?’”
“Maybe I’m—” I begin, then reconsider as memories of my grandmother warning me about heartbreak surface in my mind. “Maybe I’m growing up.”
Eden bursts into laughter again. “You? Growing up? That’ll be the day! Face it, Fox; you’re about as committed to relationships as a cat is to swimming.”
“It can happen,” I retort.
“The day a woman sweeps you off your booted feet is the day that I dye my hair back to my natural color,” she laughs. “Look, I didn’t ask you to be monogamous with me this week. It’s a ruse, but if you are going to pursue someone, please make sure it’s away from the reader’s eyes. The last thing my publisher is going to want to deal with is a cheating scandal. So please keep it in your pants unless you’re behind closed doors. Deal?”
“Deal,” I concede.