chapter eleven
Wren
Gemma has us enter through the VIP door into the more secluded section of the club. It’s not any quieter here, but the drinks are all top shelf and there’s more security. The bass of the music is so loud my teeth rattle in my skull. Gemma looks beautiful in a tank top and miniskirt. She’s channeling a Paris Hilton in the early 2000s look tonight. Her little purple sunglasses perch on the edge of her nose and knock into my cheek as she kisses me in greeting. She shoves a drink into my hand, screams “FUCK MEN!” and leads me to the dance floor.
I look back briefly and see Lance and Jay exchange tired nods and then resume their sweeps of the room. Gemma doesn’t allow me time to mope. She waves to two model hot men and they come over. She says something, like she’s introducing us, but I can’t hear her or read her lips. The strobe lights are overwhelming and make me feel like I’m in a stop motion movie. Gemma sees me shifting on my feet and she smiles kindly and pushes my drink to my lips. I’ll wallow tomorrow when I’m hung over. But tonight, we drink.
The two men pair off with us, and we dance. They’re not too handsy, and they’re skilled dancers. Gemma and I are belly to belly- or as much as we can, with her being almost six feet tall- but we’ve danced together hundreds of times. Her elbows rest on my shoulders and the guy behind her grins down at me. He has a kind smile, but it’s clear he’s hoping to hook up with Gemma.
I only realize my drink is empty when the guy dancing with Gemma takes my empty glass from me. He has artfully styled brown hair that is slowly wilting in the club’s heat, and soft brown eyes. The guy that is grinding against my back has red hair and light eyes. I peer back at him and see his eyes are dilated and hooded. He’s attracted to me, I realize. Not Gemma. He’s not bad looking, so I turn in Gemma’s arms to face Red. He smiles down at me and the drink- whatever Gemma gave me- warms me and has me staring up at him. This guy doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know my dad, and he hasn’t seen my bodyguard. His bitten lip and focused eyes as he dances with me are solely about me .
I know it’s a fleeting, drunken dancefloor lust, but it feels good. It feels good to be the center of someone’s attention. I slide my hands up his chest. His t-shirt sticks to his chest with his sweat, but he is firm and hot beneath my hands. He stoops a little to be within my reach, and I tangle my fingers in the damp hair at the nape of his neck. The strobe lights make me dizzy, so I close my eyes and dance tighter against him. His hands pull me to him and I feel his breath on my neck.
A cold drink is touched to my shoulder and I startle out of the dancing trance to take it. It’s ice cold and sweet. I only notice the burn of alcohol after I chug down half of it. Red leans down and licks a drop from my bottom lip. I smile and lean up to kiss him. A good make-out will be fun. Maxwell didn’t like to make-out. He went straight to sex. Boring sex. I deserve-
A hand grips my shoulder and pulls me. With a shocked gasp, I spin into the black clad chest of… Jay?!
“Hey!” I shout, but it’s no use. It’s too loud for even a blood-curdling scream to be heard.
Jay’s eyes are glaring at Red, who is wide eyed with his hands up. Before I can apologize to Red, Jay drags me away from the dance floor by my elbow. I look around for Gemma and don’t see her or Lance. How long was I dancing with Red alone? Suddenly feeling sick, I set my drink on a table we pass as we weave through the booths and up to what looks like a private room.
I yank my elbow out of Jay’s grasp, and he immediately reaches for my hand. His hold is tight. Too tight to get out of. He doesn’t spare me a glance as we enter the private room. He shuts the door behind us and my ears ring in the quiet. I can still hear the music through the door, but it is considerably quieter here.
“What the hell, Jay?” I shout. I tug on my hand to get him to let go of me.
“He had his hands on you!” Jay shouts back and lets go of my hand.
“I wanted his hands on me!” I shriek and shove at Jay’s chest. His body is rock hard beneath my attack. He doesn’t budge.
Jay’s blue eyes are wide, and his brows are drawn together. He’s appalled by my behavior. I shove at him again and he takes a single step back to give me space. “I don’t know what the protocol is for hook ups. You- you will have to abstain until I am trained on it.”
I take a moment to absorb what he just said. He said abstain . I let out a loud, barking laugh. He’s taken aback and looks me over, like he’s unsure of how drunk I am.
The door opens and Gemma and Lance come in, accompanied by a burst of sound from the club. “You okay?” Gemma asks me.
“Yeah,” I say as my laughter fades into giggles. “Blue Jay here wasn’t sure of the protocol for hookups.”
“Oh, um,” Gemma says and looks at Lance. “I don’t think that’s ever come up.”
“No! It hasn’t!” I say, and cackle some more.
The room is too hot. I feel sick from the drinks and dinner, and it’s too loud. I want to go home. And by home, I mean my quiet house. A sense of homesickness washes over me, even though I’ve not spent a single night there.
“Wren, baby, I have to go home,” Gemma says with a sigh.
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” I ask, sobering at her drawn expression. I reach out and touch her sweat sticky arm.
“Yeah, I went to use the bathroom and- ugh. This is the last time I wear a bodysuit to the club,” she groans and shifts uncomfortably.
“Did you start-”
“No,” she says. “I didn’t want to fully unsnap the body suit, so I just pulled it to the side to pee. Well, I lost my footing and needed to catch myself and let go of the bodysuit.”
“You peed yourself,” I finish for her and bite the inside of my cheek.
She nods.
“Well, that’ll do it. That’ll ruin a good night,” I say and try not to laugh.
“And a good bodysuit,” she sighs.
“Are we calling it a night?” Jay asks, his hand lifting to his earpiece.
“Yes,” Gemma and I both say.
“We’re a mess,” Gemma says to me and hugs me tightly to her.
“Some more than others,” I snort.
We quickly devolve into drunken giggles and Jay and Lance have to practically carry us out of the club’s private doors. We say our goodbyes outside and Jay drives us back home. This time, I’m quiet in the car and it doesn’t bother me. I yawn.
“I’m sorry to… interrupt your time with your… date,” Jay struggles to say.
“It’s alright. I was being reckless,” I say and stare out the windshield.
In my periphery, I see him give me a long look. I don’t turn to make eye contact.
“What you did, kissing that boy, was normal,” Jay says.
“I’m pretty sure he was a man,” I scoff.
“You know what I mean.”
“Sure, I guess. Can we just be silent?” I huff.
“After all that work to get us to be allowed to chit chat like best friends, you’re telling me to be quiet?” Jay asks with fake outrage.
“After I move. You have two more days until your muzzle is taken off,” I snap and relax into the seat with my eyes closed.
Jay is quiet as he drives. I breathe deeply to settle my stomach. His scent is rich in the car. Crisp like water and greenery. The salt of his sweat has the smell reminding me of an ocean breeze. It doesn’t smell forced like a cologne. Maxwell always wore an expensive cologne. I had liked it, but there’s something to be said about the scent of a man’s soap and sweat.
A hand is shaking me lightly and I startle awake. I groan against the parking garage lights and cover my eyes. “Hey, come on Wren. We’re home.”
I try to say, “Wrong house. I want my own.” But it comes out in a jumble.
That last drink had hit me harder than I’d expected. Having two glasses of wine at dinner and then a cocktail and a half at the club was probably the furthest limit of my tolerance. I didn’t have enough water.
Well, my knees don’t hurt anymore.
Jay lets out a tired sounding exhale before speaking into his earpiece. “Blue Jay will carry Wren into the penthouse. She is intoxicated of her own volition.”
I don’t hear the response in the earpiece, but Jay replies, “No, but she will need water brought to her room.”
Wait, carrying?
Jay bends into the car and scoops me up into his arms. He carries me bridal style and gently kicks the car door shut behind us. I grumble into his chest about the inevitable dirty boot print on the red paint.
“If you were walking, you could have closed the door nicer,” Jay snarks.
Someone else opens the door to the penthouse for us. But I don’t open my eyes to see who it is.
“Why did you let her drink so much?” Hawk’s voice says somewhere ahead of us.
“I’m her bodyguard, not her father,” Jay says and doesn’t stop to chat. He goes directly to my bedroom and settles me on the bed.
I am conscious but unable to speak or open my eyes. Jay pulls off my shoes and covers me with my blanket. “Do I have to feed Angelica? Grunt twice for yes, once for no.”
I grunt once. I had a Sparrow feed her since I thought I’d be with Maxwell overnight.
“Good, because she’d eat my eyeballs instead of her pellets and make me call her Blade,” Jay says, as he heads for the door.
I grunt twice.
His chuckle is warm and deep as he shuts my door.