12. Gwen
twelve
Gwen
Present
“Ohmigod, this place is amazing.” Jenna looks around the club in wonder. She got in from New York this morning, for her birthday celebration. She is staying with me for the next week before she returns home.
“It’s … something,” I say, taking in the scene before me.
Catch 22 is the new nightclub in Hollywood, and apparently, it’s all the rage.
I honestly have no words for the giant, three-level fishbowl. The bars, balconies, dance floors, everything, are made of either clear glass or something a lot like it. Purple neon lights streak across the walls, providing the only light in the dark club.
“I can’t believe Tristan got us on the list. I heard the pop star Callie Wright has been here,” Jenna gushes.
Today is her twenty-eighth birthday, so I went all out. I even called in a favor from my brother, who helped get our names on the list for tonight, as well as a table in the VIP section. He promised to show up later to pick us up and get us home safely.
“So I’ve been told. It’s quite the celebrity hot spot.” Not on a Wednesday. But I keep that snarky comment to myself.
“Holy shit, G, look.” She points to the floating dance floor. “It’s made of freaking glass. I bet you could see things you shouldn’t if you looked up.”
“Hard pass dancing up there,” I grumble, pulling down the blush-pink miniskirt my best friend made me put on.
In fact, my entire outfit was picked out by my bestie. A black, sheer, off-the-shoulder blouse with bell sleeves, and my knee-high black suede boots round off my outfit. As usual, I’m rocking a smoky eye and pink lips, and I tied my long, curly hair up in a high ponytail.
Jenna nudges me in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t make that face. You look hot as hell, and you are going to have fun tonight. That’s all I want for my birthday.”
“You’re right. Today is your birthday, and you get whatever you want.” I already feel bad about making her tag along with me to work. Thankfully, the Evaders played this afternoon, leaving us plenty of time to go out for a sushi dinner before coming here to dance our asses off.
Jenna loops her arm through mine. “Damn right, I do. And what I want now are shots. Lots of them.”
Together we make our way to the roped-off elevator that takes you to the third level, where the VIP tables are. The security guards check our names and let us up.
A gorgeous-looking hostess, wearing a tight black dress and matching heels, greets us and leads us to our table, where we find a bucket of ice, a bottle of tequila, limes, salt, and a note waiting for us.
Jenna grabs the note and reads it. “Happy Birthday, J-bird. Here’s a bottle of your favorite tequila to celebrate. Try not to party too hard. Tristan. PS, tell Gwen to take the stick out of her ass and have fun.”
“Did he really say that?” I grab the card from my best friend’s hand and read it as she bursts out laughing. “You’re such a jerk. I was going to rip Tristan’s balls off the next time I saw him.”
“I’m sorry. You’re too easy to mess with sometimes.”
“Am not. Besides, that is something he would say.”
Jenna’s head falls back as she cackles. “I think I’ve actually heard him tell you that before.”
“Har-har. Not funny. Have I told you how hot you look tonight?” I ask, changing the subject. The last thing I want to talk about is my brother and how boring he thinks I am.
“Thank you. It’s the birthday glow.” Jenna twirls, showing off her new black leather skirt and metallic silver tank.
Grabbing the bottle from the bucket, I peel off the seal and uncork the alcohol. I fill four shot glasses with the expensive tequila and slide two over to the birthday girl. The cold liquid sloshes over as I lift the shot glass into the air.
“Happy birthday! Here’s to being twenty-eight.”
“Shh. We don’t need people to know I’m so close to thirty.
” Jenna nervously glances around the VIP room.
Her eyes go wide, and she spins around. I turn to look at what’s got her freaked out, but she grabs my wrist and stops me.
“Shit-fuck. Do not turn around, G. I know you want to, but just don’t, okay? ”
The urge to look is strong, but I stay still. My bestie doesn’t steer me wrong. “Okay.”
“Take the shot in your hand.”
My heart beats wildly in my chest as I do what she tells me to do. A mix of fear and excitement shoots through me as the tequila slides down my throat. I place the glass on the table, and she slides me the next.
“You’re going to need this one too.”
Without delay, I toss back the second shot of alcohol. If my bestie thinks it’s bad, then I believe her. There is no one I trust more than Jenna.
“Okay.” I shiver as the shot burns going down my esophagus. “I’m ready for you to tell me what the hell is going on.”
If she doesn’t want me to look, I know it’s bad.
“Just don’t turn around. I know you are going to want to, but just don’t. Sitting in the booth behind you is Lance, and two other Evaders guys—I think McKay and Jensen. Anyway. They are surrounded by women, and …”
My heart flips in my chest.
“And?”
“And he has a girl on his lap,” she says.
I already know the answer, but I ask anyway, “Who?”
“Lance.”
The tequila in my stomach pools, turning sour, forcing me to close my eyes and breathe through the nausea.
Of course, Lance is out with the guys. He’s single. He’s handsome. And he’s a baseball player. I’ve seen women swarm him before.
Jenna slides another shot in front of me. “Has he spoken to you at all since the office incident?”
As I stare at the shot glass full of tequila, I shake my head. “Nope. He just stares at me like he wants to murder me in my sleep.”
“Fuck him. Remember, he’s the one who left that day. Besides, there are plenty of hot guys here tonight for you to sit on if you want.”
“I know, but …” The idea of being with another guy makes me even more queasy.
I haven’t been with anyone since Lance. How could I?
He ruined men for me. The things he said.
The way he touched me. The way he fucked me with such passion and reverence.
Rough but affectionate. Attentive. It was as if he wanted to learn every way in which he could please me and then use that knowledge to fuck me until I came so many times that I was nothing but a boneless pile of flesh.
“But you still like him,” Jenna confirms.
“I do.” So much. I force my eyes to remain looking forward.
“Let’s get out of here.” Jenna laces her fingers through mine, squeezing them tight.
With my free hand, I lift the third shot to my lips and slug it down, slamming the glass onto the table, ignoring the burn at the back of my throat.
Two men dressed in what I consider business casual approach our table, and I’m thankful the effects of the first two shots have finally hit my bloodstream.
My ears are hot, my skin is numb to the touch, and my brain can’t conjure images of Lance with other women anymore. It’s too fuzzy to be creative.
“Hello, ladies,” the man with the dark hair and matching eyes says. He sounds British, and I can feel Jenna’s energy shift. She loves a man with an accent.
Between the booze and the knowledge that the man I like is here and has another woman on his lap, my brain is fried. I have no reply for the good-looking guy standing in front of me.
“Hello to you too, gentlemen. I’m Jenna. This is my bestie, Gwen, and it’s my birthday,” she purrs.
The British man turns his attention to Jenna and grins. “I’m Ben. This is Trey.” Ben points to his friend, who is standing beside him.
“Hey,” Trey says with a toothy smile. He’s cute, with his light brown eyes and dark hair, but that flutter in my belly is nonexistent.
I lift my hand and wave like an idiot. Trey smiles wider at me as he steps closer. Still, nothing inside me stirs.
Jenna continues to be my voice. “Gwen and I were about to head to the dance floor. Care to join us?”
Ben chuckles, completely enamored with Jenna and her big personality already. “I’d be honored.”
He extends his arm for Jenna to take, making her blush. “Such a gentleman.”
“For now. We’ll see how the night plays out.” He leads her toward the elevator that takes them back down to the dance floor.
Jenna looks back at me and fans her face with her hand.
I can’t help chuckling.
“I think my buddy might have met his match,” Trey says. He takes another sip from the rocks glass in his hand.
“If she doesn’t eat him alive first.”
Trey laughs. “It’s good for him. Want to follow them to the dance floor?”
“Umm,” I hesitate. I want to say no, but then I remember that there is a woman sitting on Lance’s lap. Right behind me.
Trey catches my apprehension. “If it helps to know, I won’t step on your feet.”
“Okay. As long as you don’t step on my feet,” I tease.
“Promise.” He makes an X over his heart, making me laugh.
I keep my eyes focused on Trey as he leads me to the dance floor. The last thing I want is to catch a glimpse of Lance and another woman.
As promised, Trey doesn’t step on my feet as we dance. He is a perfect gentleman, leaving a friendly distance between us as we dance beside my bestie and her new beau for the night.
The song changes to a sultrier slow beat, and for the first time Trey closes the distance, spinning me around and pressing my back to his chest. Our hips move in time with the beat.
Feeling loose from the alcohol in my veins, and more comfortable with my dance partner, I allow myself to sink into him and into the music.
I push away my thoughts of Lance and let the man behind me get closer.
There’s still no fizzle in his touch as his palm grips my waist, but I enjoy the moment.
Trey drops his hold on my waist, and the heat of his body briefly disappears.
Before I can figure out what’s happening, a distinct set of hands find my hips.
Electricity shoots through me, and my belly flips as the smell of citrus and spice fills my nose. That scent is ingrained in my memory.
Lance.
“Keep dancing, and don’t turn around,” Lance growls low in my ear.