Chapter Sixteen
Opal seemed like she was actually having a good time. The moment some of that sweet and luxurious liquid settled down inside her, the girl changed at least slightly. It wasn't the type of transformation Boyd had witnessed in people who had a dependency on booze, or the more outrageous dates he'd taken out in the limo. No, she just seemed to relax and stop trying to force some kind of stand-offish facade.
"Do you drink very often?" he asked.
"What, are you saying I'm an alcoholic? Not every person needs to get plastered to make it through the day."
"Believe me, I don't think you drink. Especially for someone who works behind a bar of a strip club, you seem painfully straight-edge." He'd try to loosen her up with some playful banter, see if that wild side was for real, of if she was just acting for some reason. There was a reason no one had managed to get good dirt on Boyd yet, and it wasn't entirely thanks to Felicia's legal skills. Boyd motioned to the now open bottle "You liked popping that open," he added. "I thought you were going to hit that guy on his bicycle for a minute. Jimmie would not have been happy with you then."
"Hey, I could have just blamed you, right? Isn't that what you're meant to do, take the wrap for me, as my date?"
"Hey, you're right! It is well and truly our first date now! I'd say this calls for a celebration, but it looks like that's already begun!" Boyd reached over and took his own bottle of the same expensive liquid from a cooler beside his seat. He noticed the look of impressed disbelief on Opal's face. "Oh, yes, that's right. We're not going to run out of the good shit while I'm in charge of refreshments. Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, dearie."
"Did you just channel a wealthy ancestor? Who're you calling dearie? I was expecting something more like, 'bitch' or 'ho'." She took another gulp of the champagne, completely aware that her sense of right and wrong would slowly ebb away with each additional mouthful she swallowed. That might lead her to do some things that would be regretted the following day, yes. But it would help with the task of screwing Boyd over and digging up some dirt on him. So, she drank.
"If you'd prefer me to call you by one of those names, I would be happy to oblige, my bitch. You can take your top off if that'd make you more comfortable, really I don't mind."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, pal. Just because I work at a strip club, it doesn't mean I like taking my clothes off in front of strangers." She looked away shyly, well aware that she was sexually attracted to Boyd. The problem was that he clearly knew it too. Why else would she have agreed to go out with him in the first place?
"Will you tell me why you're working there in the first place? I know money is the main factor behind most people's choice of jobs. Surely you could have found something else though."
"Actually, I'm a designer, graphics and illustration mostly. I used to do a lot more hands on stuff, but lately I've been heading my own team at this marketing agency."
"Oh, really, what's the name of the place?"
"I'd rather not talk about it. They fired me for something I didn't do, had no idea about. Looks like no one else wants to hire the person who just got fired for being a white-collar thief."
"Yeah, people with money really hate white-collar crimes. It's a wonder you're not doing more time than a murderer for that. How'd you manage to get off?" Boyd had leaned forward, setting down his bottle as the liquid inside swished around with the smooth motion of the limo.
"My ex-boss wanted me to think that he was just being generous by not putting charges up against me. Personally, I think he had something to do with what really happened to the missing money. That, or he's covering for someone else."
"You have any idea who he might be covering for?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. But that's not really why I'm here, to talk about the things that lead me through a run of dismally rejected job applications, to wind up with such a shitty and demeaning job. I thought you wanted to party, Boyd. Or was that all just an act? Aren't you a bad boy?"
"You want a bad boy? You've come to the right place. The only problem is, I think I'm done being bad, for now at least. That might come as a shock to you. I'm sorry if you were looking for something more exciting …"
"Shit, don't get all deep on me. You can't bring out such an expensive drink and ruin it like that. Cheer up," said Opal. Her pretty face and pleasant smile were exactly the thing any guy needed when they were feeling down. The problem was, he wanted to do all those things that she had clearly been expecting: break the law, run amok, buy illegal substances, some harmless vandalism maybe. It wasn't worth getting his trust fund taken away from him though.
"How about we see the sights? Jimmie's doing a night shift tonight, if that's what we want. I didn't want you to have to sit in a plain old taxi.
"What if I were to take my top off? Would that encourage you to show me how bad you are? It turns me on, Boyd. I've been stuck with a guy who acted so nice and proper all the time. The only problem was—well, one of the problems at least—he wasn't such a nice guy. The fucker didn't even try to stand up for me, when I'm pretty sure it was his so-called friend who set me up at work."
"I thought you didn't want to talk about that. Step back a second though. Tell me more about what turns you on." Boyd forgot all about his own troubles, inspecting Opal's subtle form beneath her semi-casual dress. "And you were about to take your top off, is that right? Did I hear you wrong?"
"Wow, calm down there, stud. That was just to get your attention. Of course I'm not that kind of girl. But I have a feeling you wouldn't be giving me so much of your honest attention if I was like that. No, you like easy women, but you're bored of them, right? Well, maybe I'm in the mood to see what hanging out with a bad boy is like. Do you think we might be able to give each other what we each need?"