Chapter Six

Brayden

“Dude, this is exactly what I needed,” Trey says. “God bless you, sir.”

I laugh and raise my glass, giving my buddy a salute. “Seemed like a good time to get away from the office for a bit.”

We're standing at the bar in Club Myst, one of the trendiest nightclubs in Las Vegas. The music is loud, and people are grinding, bodies close together, on the dance floor. The lighting inside the club is dim, and everything is done in dark woods and a dark color scheme. The ceiling is dotted with lights that are, I’m guessing, supposed to look like stars, and the ground is covered in a foot-deep mist that's lit a deep green from underneath, giving the room a strange, mystical glow.

The place is a little too emo and goth for me, but people said it's the club to check out. That it's the hottest club in Vegas and that it caters to a clientele that would be to our liking. The translation of that, of course, is that the club will have plenty of hot chicks looking for a hook up.

Which is exactly what the doctor ordered for my good buddy, Trey. Something to take his mind off that cheating slag.

“Well, looky here, buddy,” I say.

I motion to two women standing near the bar together. A tall, leggy blonde in a short red dress looks over at Trey and flashes him a demure smile before quickly turning away and giggling to her friend.

“Contact,” I say.

Trey looks at me, giving me the grin of a man who's enjoying his buzz. The blonde looks at him again and Trey downs the last of his drink, slamming the glass down on the bar.

“Go get her, champ,” I say.

“Come with me,” he says. “Her brunette friend is pretty hot.”

“I'm good,” I reply. “We're here in Vegas for you, man. Go, sow your wild oats or whatever the hell you're gonna do.”

He claps me on the shoulder. “You're a good man, Charlie Brown.”

“Yeah, don't be spreading that shit around,” I say. “I've got a reputation to uphold.”

Trey laughs and shakes his head. “You realize you're not nearly the asshole you like people to think you are.”

I shrug. “They don't know that,” I say. “And I prefer to keep it that way.”

Trey laughs and starts to turn away, but I reach out and grab his arm to stop him as a thought suddenly occurs to me.

“Seriously,” I say. “Don't forget to wrap it up.”

He cocks his head and looks at me, a goofy, half-drunk grin on his face.

“That last thing you want is a kid running around,” I say. “You don't need some random club chick

getting her hooks into you like that, man. Be smart. Use your head – and not the one attached to your dick.”

Trey laughs and punches me in the shoulder again. “Appreciate the concern,” he says and pats his jacket pocket. “I got it covered though.”

“Good to know you planned ahead like a good Boy Scout,” I say and laugh.

“Hey, I'm rich, smart, good-looking, and young,” he says. “What chick isn't going to want to bang the hell out of me?”

I give him a smile. “Well then, carry on and happy hunting.”

Trey walks off and I watch as he saunters up to the blonde. The cocky swagger he normally carries himself with is starting to return. They seem to hit it off and it's not long before they're laughing together. I see her touching his arm quite frequently, which tells me that it’s heading in the right direction and that I shouldn't wait up for him tonight.

I order another drink and when the bartender slides it over to me, I take the glass and walk to the row of booths near the back of the club. The place is packed, so I'm surprised to find one that's empty. But then, most people are out on the dance floor dry humping one another, so maybe I shouldn't be all that surprised.

I slide into the booth and look around at all the beautiful people who fill up Club Myst. Almost everyone looks like they just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine or something. I can see that it’s a hotspot and a trendy place to be.

Honestly, I don't know why I'm sticking around. It's not like I'm here trolling for chicks. Getting involved with someone is about the last thing I need right now. I'm up to my neck in work and have several other big projects about to pop off. I probably shouldn't have taken the time off to come to Vegas with Trey, but I kind of felt like I had to do something. He's been miserable and hasn't been getting any better. Of course, the fact that Stephanie keeps blowing up his phone, begging for another chance, hasn't helped him any.

I figured that maybe, he'd be best served by getting out of town for a few days, getting drunk and getting laid. Hopefully, getting laid well. It's always worked for me when I've needed to get over some chick. I'm glad to see that he's pulling out of his funk because Stephanie is not worth the kind of emotional investment he made in her.

I really don't know what I'm still doing here. I've never really been big into the club scene to begin with. And as I've gotten older, I'm thirty-three now, it's become even less appealing. For the most part, everything and everybody is just so – superficial.

I haven't been in a real relationship for quite a while. And I'm beginning to doubt I'm ever going to find a woman who checks all the boxes for me. But then, my brother Liam thought the same thing until his current girlfriend, Paige, came into his life. Of course, them getting together was also not without a fair share of drama and I'd like to avoid that if possible.

But honestly, right now, I'm not really looking all that hard. If it happens, it happens. If not, I'm just going to have to get used to enjoying the company of a woman in short doses. Serial monogamy, or whatever the hell they're calling it, isn’t for me.

I watch Trey leave the club with the blonde – and the brunette – on his arms and laugh to myself. He's obviously going to be having a very good night. Good for him. He deserves it. And I'm even more surprised when a tall blonde in a black dress sits down in my booth, pulling her obviously reluctant redheaded friend along with her.

I look at the blonde, trying to keep myself from laughing in surprise, and we stare at each other for a long, awkward couple of moments. The redhead though, looks absolutely mortified and is busy looking everywhere but at me.

“I'm Gabby,” the blonde finally says. “This is Holly, and you're going to buy us a drink.”

“Oh, am I?” I ask.

“Of course, you are,” Gabby replies smoothly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“And why would I do that?” I ask.

“Well, if you don't,” she says, leaning forward across the table, “the chances of you getting a blow job later fall to absolute zero.”

I can't help myself and burst into laughter. Gabby, the blonde, is laughing along with me. I'm not used to a woman that forward, but I like her. She's funny. And bold. Her friend though, the still silent Holly, isn't laughing. She's not doing anything but sitting there, her cheeks burning bright with embarrassment, looking all kinds of uncomfortable.

“Well, I always want to give myself a sporting chance,” I say and flag down a waitress. “At least a chance better than absolute zero, at any rate.”

A moment later, the waitress stops at our table. “I'll take another scotch soda, on the rocks.” I say. “And whatever these two lovely ladies are having.”

“Cosmos,” Gabby says. “Two, please.”

The waitress turns and moves off, slicing her way in and out of the crowd with a practiced ease. I look at the redhead again and she's still refusing to meet my eyes. Refusing to speak. She's a good-looking woman. Five-foot-five, maybe. She's got alabaster colored skin, eyes that sparkle like polished jade, and a curvy, athletic body. She's got plump lips, full breasts, and just exudes a feminine appeal.

The blonde, Gabby, is a beautiful woman. No question about it. But something about the redheaded Holly is even more appealing to me. She's got a slight air of charming innocence about her. She has that girl-next-door sex appeal, as cliché as that is.

I have to say, of the two, I'm far more intrigued by the redhead, though she's yet to cast a glance my way or utter a single word.

“So, does she ever talk?” I say, gesturing to Holly. “Is there some kind of a medical condition I should be aware of?”

Gabby laughs and the color in Holly's cheeks only deepens. “My dear friend Holly here suffers from a severe case of social awkwardness,” Gabby says, “and it seems to get worse in the presence of handsome men.”

Holly lets out a strangled, choking noise and looks like she wants to crawl into the nearest hole. The waitress comes by and drops our drinks off, turning and hustling away again quickly. I slide the Cosmos in front of Gabby and Holly and pick up my own glass, raising it to them. Gabby picks up her own glass and nudges her friend to pick hers up – which she does, reluctantly.

“What are we drinking to, ladies?”

“To... social awkwardness and blow jobs,” Gabby finally says.

I burst out laughing and I swear to God, I'm half-convinced the still silent Holly is going to stroke out and die right then and there.