Gwen
I was reluctant to go out with Dalia at first. So much had changed in the past few months that I was afraid I wouldn’t really fit in with the old crowd anymore. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.
My life without money seemed pretty dull, but I was enjoying the simplicity of it. No more hours of getting dolled up to end up a hot mess in the club. Things like designer shoes and expensive champagne that I thought were so important seemed to pale in comparison to the life I was building with Liam.
Liam saved me from myself. He really did. He helped me love the girl underneath the fake hair and make-up. I felt safe with him, at home, and I fell deeper in love with every smile, every laugh, every touch. I loved him with everything I was.
I called Dalia as Liam suggested and we agreed to meet up at her place before heading out to Vibe, this hot new club downtown.
When I left the apartment, Liam was less than thrilled by my choice of outfit, but I’d worn it to tease him, give him a little reminder of what he was coming home to as women threw themselves at his feet all night. Plus, I enjoyed the attention. Intense, brooding Liam was sexy as hell.
When I arrived at Dalia’s penthouse, she was nowhere to be found. The elevator opened into a sprawling living room with dark wood floors, white couches and breathtaking views of the city below.
“Dalia,” I called.
“In here.” I heard her call out from her bedroom.
I headed that way, my heels clicking on the marble entryway as I walked. I slowed my steps with a cringe. I never realized how loud I walked in heels. I guess after wearing them for so long, I tuned it out. Now that it had been a while, the deafening sound was all too apparent.
I turned the corner and saw Dalia sprawled out on her bed with her hair in a towel, still in her bathrobe and flipping through an US Weekly with Ryan Reynolds on the cover. God, that man was delicious.
She lifted her gaze when she heard me enter. “You look hot,” she exclaimed.
I smoothed down my dress. “Thanks,” I said modestly, though nothing about me or this dress was modest.
I propped a hand on my hip. “Why aren’t you dressed?” I asked.
She looked up at me with a haughty expression on her face like the answer was obvious. “’Cause it’s only eight o’clock?”
“Didn’t you tell me to meet you at eight?”
“Well, yeah, but since when so you show up on time?”
I hated to admit it, but the bitch had a point.
“Come talk to me while I get ready.” She jumped up from her bed and pulled me into the bathroom.
She plopped down on a stool near her lighted vanity and shook her hair out of the towel. She looked up at me in the mirror and said, “So tell me about the guy.”
“The guy?” I asked.
“The hot as fuck bartender you work with.”
“He’s not a bartender,” I said in his defense. To Dalia, bartenders were low class fun for a fling, but never for anything more.
“He serves drinks, right?”
I nodded.
“Doesn’t that make him a bartender?”
“He’s not just a bartender, he owns the bar.” I don’t know why I was getting so defensive. Liam had a great job and was an incredible man. I didn’t need Dalia’s approval to love him.
She shrugged and went back to her hair. “So tell me everything. How’s the sex? Have you done it on the bar? Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to fuck on top of a bar,” she said, spitting out questions in rapid succession.
“Slow down, woman, you’ll give yourself a stroke.”
She giggled and went back to her hair.
“Liam is…amazing,” I said.
She watched me in the mirror and rolled her hand in the air, urging me to continue. “And?” she prompted.
“And he challenges me. Sometimes I don’t know if I want to kick him in the balls or fall down on my knees in worship. The man can be infuriating and charming all at the same time. It’s intense.”
“So you like…like him?” she asked, turning around to look at me, her face a mixture of disgust and confusion.
I exhaled. “No,” I said, and Dalia’s expression changed to one of approval. “I’m desperately, agonizingly in love with him.”
Dalia’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she studied me. “Seriously?”
I stood up. “Yes, seriously,” I said annoyed. “I love him.”
Dalia reached for my hand and held it gently in both of hers. “But sweetie, he’s a bartender,” she whispered. “You can’t possibly think you have a future with this guy.”
I yanked my hand away from her. “He’s all I see in my future, Dalia. Liam is my one constant. The one thing in my life that I know will always be there. Everything else is a complete mess—my family, my career—but Liam has supported me and been there when everyone else turned their backs on me. I don’t know what will happen from one day to the next, but I know that with Liam by my side I’ll be okay.”
She watched me closely, and I could almost see the evil plot brewing behind her eyes. I would have to watch my back for a while. She pursed her lips, then her face broke into a bright smile. “I just want you to be happy, Gwen.”
I watched her carefully. Something was off. She almost sounded sincere, but this is Dalia we are talking about. The same girl who made out with her cousin’s fiancé at the rehearsal dinner. When the bride caught them, Dalia claimed she was just testing him and he’d failed miserably.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot! I have a surprise for you at the club.”
“A surprise? What is it?”
“If I told you it would ruin the surprise, silly,” she said as she went back to her face.
A surprise from Dalia could be anything, but the smug look on her face made me nervous. I seriously needed to make some new friends.
***
Vibe was packed when we pulled up to the curb. The driver opened the door and Dalia and I exited like celebrities with power that no velvet rope could stop.
Reaching up on her tiptoes, already clad in five inch heels, Dalia laid a kiss on the bouncer’s cheek and he waved us through while the line of annoyed hopefuls stood to the side.
I followed Dalia toward the VIP section where we stepped down into the sunken area that was already filled with some of our closest acquaintances.
In my old life, I had two types of “friends.” First, there was the competition. These were the friends like Dalia, who had money of their own and with whom I was always in competition to have the best of everything. The best clothes, the best shoes, the best boyfriends. Then, there were the leeches, people who worshiped us and did our bidding for gifts or hand-me-downs, whatever we decided to bless them with.
I watched as Dalia greeted the people I used to call friends and was suddenly overcome with disgust. Not for Dalia or the people around her—I was disgusted with myself for having lived that way. For having treated people with such disdain as if they were beneath me.
“Gwen!” a shrill voice called, and a turned to see Bianca as she headed toward me with outstretched arms. She embraced me in a weak hug and my stomach turned as I remembered one drunken evening when I made her drink champagne from my shoe. I am a monster.
Bianca pulled back, her eyes bright and hopeful as always. “How are you?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I’m okay. How are you?”
“I’m wonderful,” she said. “Just got back from Ibiza with Roger.” Roger was her—for lack of a better term—sugar daddy. The man was sixty-seven years old and married with three kids, all older than Bianca, by the way, but he was loaded and Bianca never paid attention to anything beyond his net worth.
I forced a smile and began counting down the seconds until I could leave. I was not this girl anymore. I was not that shallow socialite—well, not entirely anyway. My time in The Den and with Liam had given me some much-needed perspective on everything that I once thought was important in life. Money, status, fame, it was empty and frail, a hollow life and one that I was sure I didn’t even want anymore.
“What have you been up to?” Bianca asked, drawing me out of my epiphany.
I stood up straighter with a bright smile on my face. “I’ve been working,” I said. “As a waitress in a bar called The Den.”
“A waitress?’ she asked, her nose scrunched, a clear sign of her distaste.
“That’s right. I serve beer and fried food to old men for crappy tips, and for the first time in a long time, I’m happy,” I said.
“Okay,” she replied, drawing out the word and turning to talk to someone else.
I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. I really was happy, despite everything—my dad cutting me off, losing my apartment, my job. I had never in my life been happier and more content.
A heavy arm dropped around my shoulders and I looked up into the dreamy green eyes of Max, Dalia’s older brother. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said. “Long time no see.”
I turned and smiled as he pulled me into a tight hug and lifted me off my feet. “Maximus,” I said as I threw my arms around his neck.
Max set me on my feet and released me, keeping his large hands on my hips. “When did you get back?” I asked.
“This morning,” he said. “You know the only thing that cures my jet lag is…”
“Whiskey,” I said, finishing his sentence. I took a step back, looking him over. “Well, Italy certainly agrees with you. You look great.”
“Me? Look at you,” he said. “I love the hair.”
I nervously touched the back of my shorter more natural locks. I was still getting used to life without my extensions. Without the hair, the expensive clothes, and make-up I was stripped bare for all to see and to judge, but Max wasn’t like that. He had something a lot of the people in our circle of friends, myself included, lacked. He had integrity.
Max was the perfect man. I always thought so. Gorgeous, successful, kind, sweet. The total package. We had been friends for a long time, and we flirted on occasion but it never went any further. He was a gentleman, something rare and beautiful in our circle.
“Haven’t you heard?” I asked. “I’m a whole new woman.”
Max laughed. “Well, how about I buy her a drink?”
I smiled and nodded as Dalia appeared, handing me a cosmo. “No need. First round’s on me.” she said.
“So this is my surprise?” I asked, nodding toward Max.
Dalia looked between us. “Uh, yeah. Surprise!”
Concern filled Max’s eyes as he watched his sister, but Dalia pretended not to notice. She just held the pink drink out to me and took a sip of her own.
I took the drink from her hand and took a sip. It was good, maybe not the best cosmo I’ve had, but not bad. The old me would have tossed a less than perfect drink in the bartenders face and then demanded they make me a new one, but the new me sipped her funny tasting cosmo in silence.
I sank into one of the plush purple couches sipping my drink. Dalia sat on one side of me and Max dropped down on the other. It felt good just to catch up. I started to feel like less of an outcast and have a little fun.
Dalia placed her hand on his arm. “Max,” she said. “There’s Marcella. We have to say hello.”
Max looked down at me. “Duty calls,” he said. “Save me a dance later?” I nodded and watched them disappear into the crowd.
I took another sip of my drink and sat back as the room began to spin. The alcohol seemed to be going straight to my head. I needed to slow down. The fact that I hadn’t eaten since lunch probably didn’t help matters.
The lights and the writhing bodies were disorienting. I got to my feet and swayed as I searched the crowd for Dalia. I wasn’t feeling well and I needed to get home.
I felt my body tilt to the side and I stretched my arms out to brace myself for a fall. Strong hands gripped my waist and I was pulled down, landing hard on someone’s lap.
I tried weakly to get up, but the hands tightened, keeping me firmly in place. “Relax, Princess, I got you.” His voice sounded off, distorted and slow.
I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were heavy and my limbs were weak. “Liam?”
“I got you, babe,” he said as his mouth descended on mine and his tongue pushed roughly past my lips. He tasted like cigarettes and vodka. He felt wrong, tasted wrong. His fingers dug into my hip, bruising my skin as he pulled me against him.
I tried to push him away, but my limbs were weak and lifeless. I turned my head as he kissed his way down my neck.
“Liam,” I cried out for him, but my voice was barely above a whisper. No one could hear it over the music. Then nothing.
***
I woke up with a start. My head pounded and my mouth tasted like death. I groaned and dug the heels of my hands into my dry itchy eyes. A painful fog had taken over my brain. I opened one eye and scanned my surroundings for a clue as to how I ended up with the mother of all hangovers. I only remembered having one drink and I didn’t even finish it.
The room was dark. The only light coming through was a sliver of light that pierced the heavy black curtains. I rolled to my side and searched for a light on the nightstand. My fingers landed on a switch. I pressed the button and a soft light flooded the room, a hotel room by the looks of it.
Slowly, I sat up in the bed. The sheet slipped from my body, revealing my naked chest. I gasped and pulled the sheet up to cover myself. The quick movement sent shockwaves of pain through my skull. Why was I naked? How did I get naked? And where the fuck was I?
A groan beside me immediately caught my attention. I looked down at the large muscular back of a man, a man who clearly wasn’t Liam.
I brought a hand to my mouth and stared at the naked back of a man I didn’t remember going home with. Let alone getting naked with. Oh my God, what have I done?
I shook my head. “No,” I whispered as tears filled my eyes.
The man shifted and turned over on his side, still fast asleep and peaceful. Max. Oh my God, I slept with Max. This couldn’t be real. It was dream. I pinched my thigh hard and bit my lip, fighting back the yelp of pain that threatened to slip from my lips. I stared down at the red mark that appeared on my skin as a tear slipped down my cheek. I ruined everything.
Max shifted in his sleep again and I slipped from the bed in a panic. I had to get out of there. I clutched the sheet to my chest and frantically searched for my clothes, but found nothing. I saw a suitcase in the corner, tossed it open and rifled through as fast and as quietly as I could. I found a t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. I pulled on the bulky clothes, and tugged the drawstring as tight as it would go before I booked it out of the room.
Once I reached the street, I was able to get my bearings and luckily the hotel wasn’t that far from home, maybe ten blocks or so. I hugged myself tight against cold that spread through my body. It was a relatively warm morning, but my body felt like ice from the fear and hatred that filled my veins and made me shiver.
Tears flowed down my cheeks with every step I took, knowing that the closer I got to The Den the closer I got to losing all I had left.