Chapter 29
VAL
“Ugh, the bar looks packed.”
Around us, the pounding beats and low lights of Doomsday throb and swirl. Ashley pouts as she turns toward me. I just smile back.
“Sure does.”
“Baaabe?” she whines, giving me this stupid fucking duck-like look with her lips all puffed out.
I play dumb. “Yes?”
She looks significantly at her empty cocktail glass on the table in front of us, clearly wanting me to go deal with the mob at the bar.
Which is categorically not happening.
“Ah, shit, babe.” I duck-pout right back at her. “I would, but I really wrenched my back when I was working a tough lift at the theater today.”
She’s instantly all smiles and cooed “aww babe”s as she wraps herself around my arm and looks up into my face with infatuation.
“It’s so sexy when you strain yourself dancing. Like you’re a real athlete or something!”
I AM a real athlete, cunt.
She grins at me and reaches up to boop my nose. “You stay here. I’ll go get us drinks, 'mkay?”
I just smile as she stands. She goes to kiss me, but I turn my head, letting her overly glossed lips brush my cheek instead.
“Oh!” Ashley turns to flash a much lower wattage smile at Brooklyn. “Did you want anything?”
“I’m good,” my friend says dryly to Ashley's already-receding back.
Brooklyn’s smile drops like a stone as she turns to glare at me.
“What?” I smile, playing innocent.
“Really?” Brooklyn grumbles.
“Aww, c’mon,” I grin. “Ashley’s a lovely—”
“She’s not.”
I sigh. “Fine. She’s a toxic vampire. But fuck, that girl can suck a di—”
“Ah-ah-ah.” Brooklyn’s face sours as she shakes her head quickly, holding a palm up. “Nope. Gonna stop you right there.”
I wink. “She doesn't have a gag reflex.”
“Jesus Christ,” Brooklyn groans, sliding her hands over her face and then glaring at me. “Seriously, gross.”
“Doesn’t believe in the word no in bed—”
“VAL!!”
I chuckle when she smacks my arm. But there’s no real mirth in the laugh, just like there’s no real happiness behind the fake-ass smiles I’ve been plastering onto my face for the last three fucking weeks.
Since the alley.
Since I walked away from Roman for the last time.
A dark sourness curdles in my chest when I picture his face and hear his name in my head. I wish I could claim that it’s because his face and name bring up all kinds of negative emotions. But that’s not it.
It’s because I’ve spent three goddamn weeks not saying his name or seeing his fucking face.
I wish, God do I wish, he could be like other “over and done” relationships I’ve had. Every other time I’ve walked away from someone, I've gone and buried myself in excess and hedonism, fucking my way from one willing hole to the next until they were completely out of my system.
The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?
Except this time, for some infuriating reason, I’m incapable of doing that.
Literally.
Fuck knows I’ve tried.
I’ve spent three weeks trying to go back to being “good ol’ party boy Val”. Except somehow, even after I told him we were fucking done, that I was through playing his rent-a-gay, hot-and-cold bullshit games, Roman persists in fucking my shit up, even when he’s not there.
I’ve tried to “fuck Roman out of my system” over a dozen times in the last three weeks with various go-to fuck buddies and a handful of strangers.
But I can’t even bring myself to kiss anyone, let alone fuck them.
It’s as if the proximity of anyone else makes me violently queasy, to the point where I literally haven’t even touched anyone since him.
Three weeks of sexual abstinence. Me!
Where do I apply to be a fucking monk?
There’s no desire—not with strangers, not with fuck buddies. No thrill. Nothing.
Christ, I can’t even get hard unless I’m thinking about Roman. So rather than fucking the motherfucker out of my system, I’ve been jerking off like an asshole to achieve the same thing. Except I’m thinking of him while I'm doing it, which completely defeats the purpose.
Needless to say, I’m losing it. Which is the only reason I called up vampiric, soul-sucking Ashley to come out tonight. It’s a Hail Mary—well, whatever the evil, antichrist version of a Hail Mary is.
And it’s obviously not working.
Brooklyn frowns as she looks at me. “Please tell me you’re not fucking her again.”
I’m half tempted to lie, just to see her reaction. Instead, I just roll my eyes and shake my head.
“Second request,” she sighs. “Please tell me you’re not going to fuck her tonight.”
“You seem awfully interested in my personal life, friend.”
She glares at me. “Under normal circumstances? No. Far from it. But with that bitch?” Brooklyn makes a face. “Val, she’s the worst. And don’t think I’m not curious what you’re trying to escape, bringing her out tonight.”
I frown. “Meaning?”
Brooklyn eyes me. “Meaning you only choose Ashley from your stable of boys and girls when you need a clean slate after some relationship doesn’t pan out.”
“None of my relationships works out.”
“Which is why I know Ashley so well,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes and giving me a saccharine smile.
I smirk. “Is there a point to this?”
“Yeah.” Brooklyn pokes my arm sharply. “Who'd you break up with? For that matter, who were you even dating?”
“No one,” I grunt.
“Bullshit. Because Ashley.”
I sigh. “Just… Forget it. How’s Big Dick Energy?”
Brooklyn rolls her eyes. “Nice segue, asshole. Kir is great.”
“Still slinging you that good dick, huh?”
Her face turns bright red. “You realize I know you well enough to know you’re trying to shake me off, and it’s not going to work.” She purses her lips and glares at me. “Who are you trying to forget?”
“No one,” I shrug.
“Val—”
“Leave it,” I snap. Then my face softens. “Please leave it.”
Brooklyn’s brow knits, but she nods. “Okay.” Her mouth twists as she puts her hand on my arm. “You okay? I mean, you usually love my obnoxious yet playfully adorable banter.”
I smile wryly as I lean in to kiss the top of her head.
“I’m fine.”
“Fine enough that you called the toxic vampire.”
“Touché.”
Brooklyn sighs. “Okay, I’m done torturing you.”
“Yeah, for now.”
She giggles. “Consider it a pause.” Her phone dings on the table in front of us. She picks it up and grins. “Whoo! Evie and Dove are here.”
She glances around, then smiles, half-stands and waves. I follow her line of sight and nod my chin at Evie, who points to the VIP section and gives a thumbs up before she and Dove head that way.
Brooklyn turns to me. “Wanna go join them?”
“Nah, you go ahead.”
She turns to arch a brow at me. “Is this you moping, or something else?”
I shrug. “I get the sense Dove isn’t my biggest fan.”
Her face scrunches up as she shakes her head. “It’s not you. She’s a little frosty with guys in general. But seriously, she’s the fucking coolest. I mean, you know how good a dancer she is, but have you ever seen her art? Oh my God, Val, she’s incredible...”
She trails off when she sees the grin spreading over my face.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I smirk. “Does Kir know about your girl crush?”
Brooklyn rolls her eyes and flips me off. “She just takes a second to warm up to men. Seriously, come over. She’s amazing.”
“You go ahead. I’m going to head outside for a cigarette.”
She blinks. “Now I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Huh?”
“First the vampire, now you’re smoking again.”
I frown. “I smoke all the time.”
“You smoke a little. You literally just had one before you walked in here with cunt-face twenty minutes ago. I can smell it on you.”
I glare at her. She grins back.
“If you think I’m letting this go—”
“Fine, fuck,” I grumble. “Come outside with me.”
“What about Ashley.”
When I just give her a look, she cackles and stands up with me. I scan the club as she goes over to the VIP area and talks to Evie and Dove for a second. My pulse skips when I see Nero De Luca by the bar with Laz and Bane. I whirl, my eyes darting around the place, wondering if I’ll see him.
…Hoping I might.
But there’s no sign of him.
I glance back over to where Nero and Laz are talking animatedly. Bane, meanwhile, has his usual scowl on his face as he faces the other direction.
Not gonna lie, that guy, with his perpetual moody dark cloud, has a certain…je ne sais quois about him. AKA, he’s hot as fuck, though in an annoying, way-too-straight way.
…Unlike a certain someone who’s hot in an “I want your dick but I’m going to pretend I’m straight” way.
I frown, following his steely, smoky gaze over to…
My brow arches.
He’s obviously looking at a particular booth in the VIP lounge, but I can’t tell who he’s actually staring at.
It’s not Brooklyn. I watch her say something to the other two and then nod at me before she starts heading back this way, and when she does, Bane’s dark gaze stays locked on the VIP booth.
Evelina?
Well, that would be interesting. "Interesting" like a lion hooking up with a bunny rabbit, but still, color me curious.
But then Dove says something to Evie, stands, and walks off toward the VIP restrooms.
…And there goes Bane’s dark gaze: following the shock of silvery blonde and pink hair.
“Hey, dummy.”
I yank my attention away from Bane when I realize Brooklyn is standing right in front of me. “Huh?”
She smirks. “He’s straight, FYI.” She turns and nods across the club at Bane. “Straighter than straight. Save your breath.”
I frown. “I wasn’t—”
“Sure you weren’t.” She grins at me. “C’mon, let’s skip out before Vampira gets back.”
Outside, around the corner in the alley, Brooklyn watches me slip a cigarette between my lips and light it.
“Can I bum one?”
I stare. “You don’t smoke.”
“And you don’t tend to share what goes on in that head of yours.” She winks. “I’m hoping if I do the unusual, you will too.”
I roll my eyes, taking a drag of my smoke and then tapping the side of my head. “Trust me, you don’t want what’s up here in amnesia land.”
She sighs and holds out her hand. “Well?”
“If Kir gets pissed, I’m telling him you forced me,” I mutter, handing her a cigarette.
She puts it between her lips and leans forward as I flick the lighter for her and hold it to the tip.
She takes a drag, then immediately sputters and coughs, yanking the cigarette out of her mouth, her face horrified.
“Jesus Christ,” she wheezes. “How the fuck does this turn into a habit?”
“Practice,” I chuckle, reaching for the cig. She yanks her hand away. “Not until you share what’s going on in that head. And don’t give me the bullshit you were giving me inside. I know you well enough to know when you’re full of it.” She smiles. “And, I mean, I also want to know so I can help?”
Yeah, good luck with that.
I sigh, looking away and sucking on my teeth.
Fuck it.
“Okay, fine,” I grumble. “You called it. I was seeing someone, and…” I shrug. “It’s not going to work out.”
“Guy? Girl?”
“Guy,” I grunt.
“If I were to draw from your usual list of why things don’t work out…” She starts counting on her fingers. “Too gay? Too clingy? Too femme—”
“The opposite,” I mutter. “On all counts.”
Brooklyn arches a brow. “Well… That’s different.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter.
“So....?”
I take a slow drag, then exhale. “It’s…a whole thing.”
“Is the opposite of too gay too straight?”
I make a face. “Something like that.”
“Is he straight? Because…”
I shrug. “I mean…yes, but no.”
Brooklyn looks confused.
“He claims he’s straight,” I grunt. “Which would be easier to believe if he didn’t have sex with me all the fucking time.”
She grins. “I see.” Then her brow furrows. “So, basically, he’s not out.”
“Not even to himself,” I mutter.
She makes a face, then reaches over to squeeze my hand. “I’m sorry, buddy. That’s…” She shrugs. “Sucky. You deserve someone who will openly be with you.”
I smile wryly. “You think?”
“Uh, yeah?”
I chuckle as I take a drag. “If you say so.”
It’s the same reason you’re so proud of never having anything real or meaningful. You wouldn't have to risk anyone sticking around long enough to see how fucked up you are.
It’s easier than admitting no one could actually love you.
Icy coldness slithers through my veins, and my jaw clenches tightly.
“Hey.”
I glance up when Brooklyn touches my arm, her eyes locked on me. “I do say so,” she says softly. “You deserve happiness.” She smiles wryly. “I hope you realize that.”
I smile as I take her hand and squeeze it. “Thanks, B.”
She shrugs. “Don’t mention it. I mean, c’mon!” She elbows me playfully. “You’re awesome!”
I shrug. “I am pretty fucking awesome, right?”
She snorts a laugh. “There’s that ego. I was missing it.”
She brings the still-smoldering cigarette to her lips and attempts another drag. Instantly, she turns green.
“Fuck, that is nasty—”
I laugh as I pluck it from her hand and toss it away along with mine. “C’mon, let’s—”
I freeze as I half turn. My eyes have just locked on a black car coming to a stop out front of Doomsday.
…A black car that fucking Roman steps out of, a giggling blonde in a too-tight dress hanging from his arm.
My chest tightens. My gut clenches. I watch her turn to kiss his fucking bicep, and something savage inside me roars for blood.
“Should we go back in?” Brooklyn asks, not seeing Roman before he and that slag walk into the club.
“Yeah,” I growl.
Let’s fucking go, motherfucker.