Chapter 36 My Happy Place
MY HAPPY PLACE
As Nolan and I settle in for tapas at The Lucky Spot, my Saturday night text messages go something like this . . .
Bellamy: I’ve got my notebook, pen, and the start of a pros and cons list for each dancer.
Coco: The man at the door in the leather vest gave me quite a once-over. And before you even say a word, he’s closer to my age than these strippers are. He’s also quite handsome.
TJ: Want to lay a wager on who’ll be first to order a lap dance? Your grandma or your woman?
I reply to Bellamy first with, I can only imagine how scathing your pros and cons list might be, then to Coco, writing, I presume you’re beguiling to men of all ages.
Next, I flash my screen at Nolan, since TJ sent his text to the two of us. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking for the answer?”
“I better be,” he says. “Count of three?”
“Three, two, one,” I say, then, in a glorious mind meld, we type out the same answer to TJ: And we’re betting on you.
Nolan and I knock fists as Spencer brings me a seltzer water and Nolan a beer. Waggling the phone at my cousin, I show him the thread. “Our grandmother is keeping everyone busy tonight.”
Spencer reads, then points to TJ’s recent text. “He called her your woman. And you didn’t deny it,” he says with a smirk.
But I didn’t corroborate it, either, since it’s not truly an option. I roll my eyes. “I simply moved on to the other part of the convo.”
“Because you didn’t want to deny it,” Nolan puts in.
Spencer parks his elbows on the edge of the counter, and I swear the pair are caging me in. “Here’s my question. If Bellamy’s not your woman, what will you do when she comes to your party and meets Mister Right?”
A horror-movie shudder rolls through me. The prospect of Bellamy with Mister Right is all wrong. But I can’t stop her. She wants that kind of love—the neon-billboard-in-Times-Square kind. What’s more, she deserves it. “It’ll be fine,” I say as evenly as I can.
“Pants on fire,” Spencer says.
I ignore him and take a drink of the bubbly water. But when I set it down, Nolan levels me with bluntness. “You’re kind of a dumbass.”
I jerk my gaze to him. “And why is that?”
“You won’t be fine,” he says, then lifts his beer and tips some back.
“Is that so?”
He shrugs like he knows so. “Yup. A grand says you’ll be crying in your cereal when you let her walk away.”
“I’m in,” Spencer says smugly.
I roll my eyes. “We’re not a thing. There’s no walking away. We just have a bet and an understanding.”
“Understanding, my ass. And I will lay down this wager now,” Nolan says, stabbing the bar.
“You’re such an ostrich,” Spencer tells me.
I also can’t resist a bet. “You’re on. I can’t wait to say I was right.”
Spencer cackles. “Keep waiting. Nolan and I have this one locked up.” That’s his parting shot as he heads off to tend to customers at the other end of the bar.
I wrench control of the conversational wheel, turning it on Nolan. “What’s the latest on the moving front? You think you’ll relocate here?”
Nolan crosses his fingers. “If I can make it work, I’d love to.
It’s getting old crashing on TJ’s couch.
Don’t get me wrong—the dude has great taste in furniture and he’s a sport for letting me stay with him.
But I need to figure out my next steps. I’ve got to make sure I can justify moving here from San Francisco. ”
“Will you miss the fam?”
“So much. I talk to Jason all the time, though,” he says.
“Go Hawks.” His little brother is the quarterback for one of the NFL teams in San Francisco. “He’s having a good start to the season.”
“He sure is. I miss going to his games. And I’d definitely miss him if I moved here for good.”
“But I bet you’ll miss Emerson more,” I rib him, which also happens to deflect from my romantic situation.
Wait.
I don’t have a situation.
I have an understanding. That’s all.
“For the millionth time, we’re just friends,” Nolan says.
Our phones buzz in unison. I flip mine over, and he does the same.
TJ: I can feel inspiration dancing all around me. My next great romance will be about a brainy podcaster who meets a stripper with a heart of gold and falls in love. It’s practically writing itself before my eyes.
Seething a little, I draw a deep breath and tell myself I’m not jealous, I’m not jealous, I’m not jealous at all.
Easton: Newsflash: If that’s supposed to rile me up, it’s not working.
Nolan: Newsflash: His skin turned green with envy and his top is about to blow.
TJ: I thought so, Nolan. And you should really see this guy dancing with your woman, Easton. He’s packing some kind of turbo rocket launcher in his yellow thong. If I were you, I’d be breaking into a sweat.
Easton: And yet, I’m me. So I’m not worried.
Nolan arches a brow high above his glasses. “Your nose grew a few inches.”
I glare at him. “The guy is wearing yellow undies. I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
My phone buzzes again.
Bellamy: Come join me. It’d be fun to have you here.
That’s enough for me. I push away from the counter. “Gotta go,” I say.
“To see your woman?” Nolan asks.
My jaw ticks, and I want to deny it, but there’s no point. We made our bets, and now it’s time for them to play out. “I can’t wait to take your money,” I say, then I clap him on the back and head to Stallions and Studs in the Village.
A neon horse and a cowboy hat blink on the sign hanging above the door. An older man, maybe in his seventies and sporting a leather vest, jeans, and cowboy boots, tells me the cover charge is twenty-five bucks. This is Grandma’s guy, I’m guessing.
“It’s rowdy in there. Ladies’ night and all. But I’m Longjohn. Rod Longjohn,” he says, James Bond style. “And I hope you enjoy yourself.”
“I will, Rod.”
I pay the fee then head inside, adjusting to the sonic assault of Lil Wayne’s “Fireman.” Around the corner by the main stage, I find my grandmother with her iPad in hand, taking notes.
That’s so very Coco.
I weave through the crowds cheering on a battalion of firemen wearing nothing but turnouts as they shake their hips to the rap beat.
I laser in on my grandmother, my friend, and . . . the woman.
She’s not mine, no matter how high my pulse spikes when I see Bellamy. Once our gazes meet, her brown eyes sparkle.
Her hands are in the air, and she’s bumping shoulders with TJ. She leans into Coco, points at an oiled-up, dark-skinned dancer on stage, and gives an exaggerated thumbs-up.
Coco mouths a big Yes.
I join the crew at their table, where Bellamy welcomes me in the best way possible. The second my ass hits the red upholstered lounge chair, she climbs on my lap, wraps her arms around me, and presses a kiss to my cheek. She smells faintly of tequila.
“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”
She grinds her ass against my crotch. “A lot more now,” she purrs, but she only seems tipsy, not drunk. “I’m impressed you came down here.”
“Why are you impressed?”
She waves a hand to the stage. “Naked man-flesh everywhere.”
I point to the guys on stage. “They’re not technically naked.”
“They’re nearly naked,” she counters.
“Nearly, technically, completely. Don’t care. Why would any of the above bother me?”
“Most men wouldn’t join a woman at a strip club where hot, sculpted, well-hung, abalicious men are shaking their booties,” she says, threading her fingers through my hair.
“I’m not most men,” I whisper in her ear, then nip the lobe.
With a sexy murmur, she curls her arms tighter, like she owns me.
“Someone’s awfully possessive tonight,” TJ chimes in, but he’s looking at Bellamy.
“Very possessive,” Coco puts in with a smirk.
“And I’m owning it. Don’t go on stage for amateur hour, Easton,” Bellamy says, clutching at my shirt. “I don’t want any of the cute girls here throwing greenbacks at you.”
TJ cracks up. “You have nothing to worry about, honey. I’ve seen this guy at weddings. He can’t dance for shit.”
I narrow a frown at TJ. “Hey now. Keep some of my secrets, will ya?”
“Only some, my friend. Only some.” TJ lifts his glass of amber liquid. “Also, good to see you here again, bro.”
Bellamy smiles at me with curiosity. “Do you come here often?”
I laugh. “Let’s just say it’s not the first time TJ has convinced me to join him.”
“Or me,” Coco says, then returns to her tablet.
“Tell the truth, E,” TJ says, then curls a hand around my shoulder as he directs his attention to Bellamy. “This man? Easton took me here right after my ex dumped me.”
“You needed to get to your happy place,” I say with a shrug. Of course I was going to take him to the one spot in town where his busy mind and heavy heart could have the night off.
“My Happy Place!” TJ shouts, then grabs his phone, taps out a note, muttering to himself, but still audible enough for me to hear. “Future . . . book . . . title.”
I pounce on that. “Dude. Did you just dictate a work note to yourself while we’re out? You know the punishment.”
With a groan, he says, “Ah, fuck me.”
“Oh, what’s the punishment?” Bellamy asks, her tone dripping with intrigue.
“We get to pick a guy for him to try to kiss.”
Her jaw drops as she makes the connection, and then she slugs me. “That’s what your friends did to you the night we met.”
I plant a kiss on her cheek. “And the fuckers picked well. Admit it.”
She pouts, but she’s only pretending to be mad. “I want to pick for him.”
“Please pick,” TJ begs. “You’ll do a better job than Easton.”
She wiggles around on my lap, clearly excited with the task. “I’ll have someone for you in a bit. I’m going to take my time with this mission. But tell me—did coming here back then work for you, TJ? Did you get to your happy place?”
TJ swirls the amber liquid in his glass, a little contemplative. “I’m still working on that. But aren’t we all? At least I have good friends to get me through the hard shit.”
“I’ll drink to that too, brother.” I reach for Bellamy’s glass and clink it to TJ’s. I swallow some of her drink, then smack my lips.
“Bet your lips taste fiery,” she whispers in my ear, and heat flares from her words, her nearness. Just from . . . her.
I turn my head and catch her lips against mine in a scorching kiss that ends too soon.
“Give it up for Jack the fireman!” the DJ calls as the man on stage pumps his hips then yanks off his pants.
TJ hoots.
Bellamy cheers.
Coco nods sagely. “Indeed. Jack has excellent charisma.” My grandmother sounds like she’s appraising dogs at Westminster.
TJ stretches an arm out to tap Coco on the shoulder. “Put that on Jack’s pros list. But we need to see how he handles a G-string.”
“But of course,” she says, her glasses sliding down her nose as she enters more notes.
Chuckling, I turn to the beauty in my lap, her honeysuckle smell mingling with the cloying scent of perfumes from other patrons. “What about you, Bellamy? What do you think about Jack?”
She studiously watches the sculpted dancer as he exits the stage, then gives her ruling. “Jack is an excellent choice. Not only does he have charisma, I hear he’s a fabulous listener.” Then she dips her voice for my ears only. “And that’s so very important.”
“It is,” I say.
“Now, here’s Jones with the long, hot hose,” the DJ croons.
I gesture to the dancer, so she can evaluate him next. “Tell me about Jones,” I say, low and just for her as the guy slinks to the lip of the stage, threads his hands through his hair, and jerks his head back.
Bellamy is all over the new guy’s pros, whispering to me once more.
“A hose is nice, but that’s not his greatest asset.
What they don’t tell you about Jones is he’s very quick with his tongue.
He can fire off commentary on any subject like that.
” She snaps her fingers. “News, politics, books, wine, songs . . .”
“My, my. He sounds fabulous,” I say.
“But he can’t back down from a bet,” she adds with a pout.
“Is that a bad thing?”
She cups my jaw, roams her soft fingers down my day-old stubble. Her questing touch sends lightning-bolt tremors through me. “As long as he doesn’t let it get in the way of his heart’s desire.”
I know where we’re going, and I like this game. “And finally, what about him?” I point to the last guy on stage—an Asian man who gyrates his pelvis at Mach speed.
“He’s a beast in bed,” Bellamy says, but she’s not looking his way as she slides her fingers through my hair again.
“But that’s not the most important thing.
He’s the kind of guy who treats his woman like a queen.
Makes her feel like she’s the center of the world.
Like nothing else even matters. Because he wants to find the one. The one who makes his heart thunder.”
My chest hollows because I can’t be that guy for her. I know what happens when I play that role. I’ve been there, and the pain is too much. The dark days terrify me. But I’d love to give her everything she craves, so I play along for now. “He should give that to her,” I say.
Her irises flash with vulnerability. “So, is that the kind of man you’re going to find for me at Carpe Diem? Someone who’s all of those things?”
I run a hand down her arm, torn up inside between what I want and what I fear. “I’ll find you someone you deserve. You deserve all of those things.”
“Find him for me. I’m getting tired of kissing all these frogs,” she whispers, but there’s a note of sadness in her voice.
For tonight, I can give her that. “Spend the night with me. Kiss this frog for a little bit longer.”
Before she can answer, though, my gaze snags on the man in leather making a beeline for my grandmother.
“Hello, beautiful angel. I’m Rod, and I wanted to personally see if there’s anything at all you need tonight,” he says to her.
Afraid of nothing, Coco eyes him up and down. “What could you offer me, Rodney?”
“A drink on the house? A lap dance? A scintillating conversation with this strip club mogul?”
“I’ll take door number three.” She rises and hands her iPad to TJ so she can join the owner for a drink.
I turn to my friend, but before I can say a word, he waves me off. “Go. I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”
Bellamy lifts a finger. “Jones, the fireman with the long, hot hose,” she tells TJ. “Go for it.”
He just laughs. “We’ll see.”
“Coco will be my eyes and ears,” Bellamy says, but I’m not so sure she will. Or that TJ will do a damn thing about the dare.
And right now, I don’t fucking care.
I’m leaving with my woman.
That’s who she is for tonight because that’s all I’ll allow.