7. Thea
THEA
I check my watch again.
Eight thirty.
Five minutes past the deadline I set for myself.
But any deadline requires a five-minute grace period. He could just be running terribly late.
But I know in my bones that Bobby Q. isn’t showing up.
I’ve been stood up before. It never gets easy.
Well, in a way it does. I’m not sad like I was the first time.
Now I’m just pissed.
I put myself out on a limb, went into a rideshare with no idea where I was headed, and sat at this bar sipping an admittedly fantastic vodka soda for a half hour waiting for his dumb ass.
And he doesn’t even have the decency to reject me to my face?
Asshole.
Who would have the gall to stand me up, anyway?
I’m attractive. I know that. I’ve seen the Reddit posts about me. I pretend like I haven’t noticed the photoshopped photos of me giving the weather report in a string bikini, but I have. And I look good in them.
I look even better in my actual string bikini.
I sigh. Maybe that’s it. I’m a local celebrity. I’m not as famous as someone like Maddox Hathaway, but I get recognized often enough.
Maybe Bobby thought I was catfishing him. Maybe he did a reverse image search and found out who I am.
Now I have to make the walk of shame out of the Jade Sanctum. That poor girl, everyone will think as I slink out pretending I have a call. I’ll have to get an Uber home, too. Damn.
I laugh at the thought. Classic spotlight effect. No one will give me a second thought.
Though if they recognize me from O2 news, they might.
I’ll be as discreet as possible.
I turn to thank Kin for the drink and to settle my bill when—
Shit!
I knock the glass off the counter, sending it shattering onto the floor. Everyone in the East section looks toward me.
So much for discretion.
“Sorry,” I say to Kin. “I’ll pay for the glass. Just add it to my tab. I’ll close out.”
Kin hands me a receipt and then takes a small broom and dustpan out from under the bar and starts sweeping up my mess.
Ugh. What a waste of a night.
It’s a good hair day. A good boob day too.
Maybe I’ll just download a hookup app and find some young stud to take me to bang town.
Or…
Maybe there’s someone right here at this club.
I gaze over at the block of jade in the club’s center. Aus is spinning discs for his life, and he’s looking hot as hell doing it. He’s sweating a bit, and the green vest he’s wearing is starting to stick to his sides.
How I’d love to slip under that vest, feel his hard pecs. Let him squeeze the life out of me with those big arms.
Aus seemed all too happy to give me a tour tonight, even though it made him late for his own set. I guess he’s the owner though, so it’s not like he put his job in jeopardy.
But maybe he did. Maybe there are patrons who would have been pissed if he hadn’t started the music on time. After all, he said it himself—the only things you can do here are drink and dance. Without the DJ, the available activities are halved.
Aus also bristled a little when I told him I was here to meet a date. He wasn’t too happy to know I was already spoken for.
Well, the lady’s back on the market.
There was heat between us, too. It wafted off him in waves. There’s no doubt in my mind that if modern conventions hadn’t forbidden it, we’d have made love right here on the floor of the club, onlookers be damned.
I haven’t felt that heat with a man in a while. But I’m never wrong. I know temperature. I’m a weathergirl, for crying out loud.
Aus will have a break at some point. Maybe then I can waylay him, take him up on that drink he offered.
Of course, no man wants to feel like sloppy seconds. After all, if Bobby Q. had shown, I’d be with him.
Though Aus is much hotter than Bobby’s profile pictures. And dating-app pics tend to be flattering—good angles and lighting. So Bobby probably doesn’t even look as good in real life.
Aus in real life, on the other hand, is gorgeous.
He could be a statue in a museum. That’s how perfect he is.
Maybe I’ll reopen my tab, have another drink, sit at the bar sipping it slowly until Aus descends that hidden staircase from the block of jade.
Then I’ll bump into him. Tell him I was stood up, maybe even fake a tear or two.
Men eat that shit up. They love playing the hero to the maiden scorned.
It’ll reel him in. Then we’ll have a drink, maybe make plans for dinner sometime next week.
One problem with this plan, though. I don’t know how much longer Aus is going to be before he takes his break.
He has to take one at some point. There’s no way he’s working the booth until the club closes at three in the morning.
But it could be an hour. I could put away three of Kin’s vodka sodas by then, and then I’ll be tripping over myself.
I want to make a good second impression, and I don’t want Aus to think I’m a lush.
Besides, we had a good back and forth. I want my wits about me so I can twist anything he says into a clever double entendre.
I can hold my own with one more drink in me, so I flag Kin down. “Sorry, but I changed my mind. I’ll reopen my tab. Another vodka soda, please.”
“R-Right away, m-ma’am.” He grabs his tumbler with a shaky hand but then stops. “I’ll need your c-credit card again.”
“Of course. Sorry for the hassle.”
I’m about to reach into my purse to grab my card when a gravelly voice rumbles in my ear.
“It’s on me.”