Chapter 2
Chapter two
“Remind me why I let you talk me into going with you to this concert tonight?” I grumble, sliding the smooth vegan leather skirt over my lace fishnets.
“Because, girl, you need a rebound hookup,” Roxy answers.
I sigh. She’s right. It’s been a few months since my breakup. “You’re right, I need to be dicked down. It’s been way too long.”
Aarika and Roxy snicker.
“We can’t all be married to Mr. Wonderful like you, Aarika,” I tease.
Roxy laughs so hard she snorts. “It’s true, babe. You’re so fucking lucky.”
Turning to face my bestie, I say, “Roxy, I just can’t be a swinger like you. My sex life is tragically doomed to be nonexistent.”
But before I can finish, she interrupts me. “Not a swinger, boo. I just live life and enjoy all types of adventures.”
“I don’t want to know. I don’t have the capacity to discuss your insane sex life if I’m going to hype myself up enough to get laid tonight.” My tone shifts until it’s one hundred percent serious.
“Don’t think about it. Vi, you’re hot. You’re sexy. I promise there’s no way you aren’t going to get dicked down tonight,” Roxy replies encouragingly.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
Big, warm brown eyes stare back. My dirty blonde hair falls past my shoulders in voluminous, wavy curls.
The mini skirt hugs my hips in all the right places.
Fuck Aarika and her ability to put together the cutest outfits.
I pull the crop top tee Roxy ordered on.
She got us matching band tees, then had Aarika add some character.
She cropped the shirts, added a peekaboo shoulder, and bedazzled the band name with glow-in-the-dark sparkles.
Roxy squeals in the dressing room next to mine. “O-M-G! This outfit is amazing. Aarika, you’re a serious fashion genius.”
“Aw, you guys are too nice. I hope you have a blast at the concert tonight. Don’t forget I texted you the door code if you want to come over and pee.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I complain. “I still don’t understand why you aren’t required to come with us.”
“I told you guys, the Purple Raven is an entire vibe, but it’s also on Colfax,” she pauses dramatically, then adds, “at night!”
All the Colorado natives know exactly what happens on Colfax at night because we’ve all been stupid enough to roll the dice at least once or twice.
The Purple Raven is an iconic venue on Colfax, and it just so happens to be right next door to Aarika’s store.
We met in art college. She was studying fashion and clothing design.
Roxy and I both focused more on drawing and digital art.
We work as artists and do colorist jobs here and there for comic books. It’s a pretty sweet gig.
“Oh no, Colfax at night,” Roxy cackles sarcastically.
“Your store is on Colfax though?” I say, confused.
Aarika laughs. “And my man isn’t happy about it, but I might have embraced my I’ll do what I want personality a little too hard. Speaking of, he’ll be here any minute to pick me up.”
“Oh shit, we should hurry and get in line,” Roxy gasps.
She has VIP tickets because of course she does. This is one of her top favorite bands she follows on social media. It’s their first world tour, and in her words, not mine, she couldn’t miss it.
“Roxy, we have VIP reserved seats. You spared no expense, remember?”
We both exit the dressing rooms carrying our bags. I’m planning to go stash these in the car and grab my super small bag before we head over to the venue.
“I know. I want to get in there right when the doors open. Maybe we can catch a sound check or see Cas getting ready.” She’s practically swooning.
Aarika and I look at each other, rolling our eyes, and pretend to gag in unison. “It’s Cas Wilder!” we scream.
“You guys stop it! What if he can hear us through the walls?” Roxy squeals, her cheeks turning bright red.
I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe—seriously, I might pee myself and then Roxy’s going to be so pissed at me. I fall into one of the scalloped chairs in the dressing area and compose myself. Aarika’s phone chimes.
“It’s the motion detection cameras. My man’s here, which reminds me,” Aarika says, clearing her throat. “If you don’t want either of us to see it, then absolutely don’t do it inside the store. There are cameras everywhere.”
“Why are you looking at me?” Roxy whines. “I feel singled out.”
“I mean it, Roxy. Do not violate my mannequins.” She points her finger at her and wiggles it.
A car horn honks.
“That’s him. Have fun. The door will lock behind you. I stocked the mini fridge full of drinks and snacks. Oh, and I left some emergency cash for you guys here in case you need it for some reason.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom,” I say, giving her a hug goodbye.
“Seriously, just stay alive, okay?” Aarika says as she hugs Roxy.
“I promise to keep her alive.” I hold out my pinky finger to mock her.
“It’s not just her I’m worried about. Be careful hooking up with whoever the lucky man is,” Aarika confesses.
“I promise to watch out for her,” Roxy chimes in, and we both grimace.
Last time Roxy looked out for me, we ended up in a mess and missed the important meeting we flew all the way to Tokyo for.
“Oh come on, guys, we have to let that one go. It’s been like two years,” Roxy complains, picking up on our hesitation.
“Fine,” Aarika agrees. “But if anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Understood. Drive safe.” Roxy blows her a kiss, and so do I.
She blows one back, then walks out the door. The moment she’s gone, I begin pacing. What if I’m not ready to do this?
As if she can read my thoughts, Roxy says, “Come on, let’s put this stuff in the car and then head over. We need to get you out of your head so you relax and have a good time.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me into the warm night air.
***
Roxy is picking up the wristbands from will call, and I’m people-watching, making up stories in my head.
My phone vibrates. I pull it out to make sure she doesn’t need anything.
But it’s not her. Instead, it’s a social media story notification from Jackson.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I click on it.
The post opens to a photo of him with a pretty woman in a fancy dress, toasting a drink.
It’s captioned: Cheers to the woman who taught me how to love again.
It times out and flashes to another story.
I quickly exit out of the app and stash my phone, schooling my features so Roxy doesn’t realize anything’s wrong.
I manage to keep it together until we get inside and find our seats.
“Hey, grab me a drink, please. I have to run to the bathroom really quick.” I give her a pouty look.
“Are you sure you can’t hold it? We’ll walk back to Aarika’s?” Roxy asks.
“Oh. No. I just want to check my makeup, and the lighting in here is terrible,” I laugh.
“Okay, babe,” she says, waving me off.
I glide through the dark concert venue in search of a bathroom, but I have yet to see a sign. Eventually, I end up at the bar. It’s stashed away toward the back of the venue, off to the side of the stage. I walk up and wait for the cute—but far too young for me—bartender to walk over.
“Hey, what can I get for you? I also need to see your wristband and ID,” he says.
“Oh, no, thank you. I was just wondering where the bathroom is.” I realize once I’ve asked the question how embarrassing this actually feels, asking a boy without any facial hair where to find a bathroom.
“No problem, ma’am. I’ll let you in on a secret. There’s a bathroom down that hallway right there with the exit sign at the end. When you get to the door, hang a left, and then you’ll see the signs.”
Ma’am?! Do I really look like a ma’am in this outfit?
Oh dear god. This is so embarrassing. I fight the urge to slink away shamefully. “Thanks so much,” I manage to squeak out. I pull a five from my clutch, but he waves me off.
“How about you give me your number instead, and when I get off work tonight we can grab dessert or something?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Is this really happening right now? I smile at him, trying to decide how to let him down easy. “I wish I could, but I’m here with a friend I’m responsible for getting home. We could grab dessert some other night though.” I bite my bottom lip.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. Another time.” He winks, walking over to the next customer.
I try not to feel too guilty. I need a guy much closer to my age, not some young bartender fresh out of college.
The hallway is dimly lit, so I end up following the glow of the exit sign.
When I make it to the door, I turn left just like he told me to.
There’s a bit more light down this hallway, and I see the bathroom signs.
This is the perfect place to have a quick mental breakdown.
I look at the time and give myself a five-minute limit, then step into the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, I assess myself. Do I look as old as the baby-faced bartender made me feel?
Twenty-eight doesn’t feel that old, but then again, I do feel a bit on edge about crossing into my thirties.
How did that movie line go? “Flirty, thirty, thriving?” It doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters if I don’t drag my ass out there and find a good time to help me get over this breakup.
Digging in my small bag, I search for my lip-plumping gloss, then swipe it on over my super stain.
The uglier you go to bed, the prettier you wake up, I repeat from all the social media ads I consumed before finally breaking down to buy the damn thing.
The gloss tingles a little, but nothing unbearable, just all those natural ingredients and collagen going to work.
I pull away from my thoughts to check my phone.
My five minutes are up. The only logical solution to ease the pain of my hurt feelings is to get petty.
So we’re conveniently still connected on social media.
If I start posting like I don’t give a fuck about him—starting to act like I’m over him—then maybe I’ll finally get over Jackson.
Before I can chicken out, I swipe open my app and add some text. Girls’ Night Out. Looking for a new man. I save the draft so I can take a cute picture with Roxy later. Determined, I leave the bathroom to head back to the table where I left my bestie. We’re about to have an unforgettable time.
The hallway is just as dark as before, and I don’t entirely remember which way I came from.
I take a step to the right, then turn. Or no, fuck it.
I slink off to the left, hoping I went the right way.
I can hear what sounds like voices up ahead.
Relieved, my body relaxes, but I can’t help myself.
I take one last look over my shoulder to make sure no one is behind me, and that’s when I crash into a solid, yet soft, very human-y feeling wall of muscle.
I scream.
A skull mask floats in the darkness. I blink, my body tense.
Am I in shock? I blink a few more times and my eyes adjust. Upon further inspection, the mask is in fact not floating.
No, this is far worse. The mask is attached to the most ripped set of abs I’ve ever seen in my life.
Even the abs in the movies don’t compare to the tattooed goodness I’m staring at.
Thank fuck it’s dark because my cheeks are heated with arousal. I swallow a few big gulps of air, trying to compose myself.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” he says, ripping the mask off.
It takes an extraordinary amount of control not to let my jaw fall open. This man. This perfect specimen of a man is standing in front of me, flashing the brightest smile with the most adorable dimples. Why is he walking around with his shirt off? Do I mind? Am I hallucinating?
“Hey, you can’t be back here,” someone shouts from behind him.
“Ahem,” he clears his throat. “It’s all good. I’ve got it.”
“You sure, man?” the voice asks, sounding much closer this time.
A tall blond guy wearing a black dress shirt appears next to the man I can’t stop eye-fucking. I think he knows it too because he continues to smile at me.
“Yeah, do me a favor, Brian, and take this to Matt so he can set it up.” Mr. Hottie with the Abs hands the grumpy guy something, but I can’t make out exactly what it is.
Honestly, I don’t try very hard. I’m just thankful not to be in trouble.
“Sorry about that. But he’s right, you can’t be back here. I’ll walk you to the bar.” He motions for me to follow him.