Whitney was never really considered a friend, but she was forever in my life. Her father and my father were always competing over who had more money and who could make more money. Whitney was spoiled, had a sense of entitlement, and got anything she wanted from the day I met her. Me, I was sort of the opposite, meaning I was forced to be spoiled. Anything I said, I’d get. So I stopped saying things. But Whitney always managed to trick me into saying things and then get them for herself. That would piss my father off and he’d do something bigger for me.

There were rare times though when Whitney was able to turn off the rich bitch thing and be human. Her mother had a really bad drinking problem that led into a pill problem. Her father did everything to hide it from the public eye. Her father took his company public and the months leading up to it were so scary. He kept Whitney’s mother in the basement like a pet. Feeding her vodka and prescription pain pills, keeping her alive, balanced, and ensuring she wouldn’t do anything stupid to cause an issue for the company. Now, when I say Whitney’s mother was locked in the basement, this basement was a mansion in itself.

A week after the company went public, Whitney’s mother snuck out of the house to go buy hot dogs. That’s what she wanted. Hot dogs. She drove to the store, stumbled through, drunk and high, getting her picture taken a hundred times over. Then she drove home and crashed her car a block from the massive mansion. She managed to walk her way home, bleeding from her head. She turned on the grill and put hotdogs on it, still in the packaging. Then she got into the pool and passed out. The staff at the mansion found the grill on fire and Whitney’s mother face down in the water.

She was lucky she survived but not without a messy PR situation that Whitney’s father had to deal with for months. Her father fired and sued everyone that worked at the house. It was a big disaster, even though my father loved it.

Those were the times when Whitney opened herself to me. Upset about not having a mother in her life, something I could relate to. But then she masked all that by drinking, partying, and being the rich girl wild child because she could do it and get away with it.

Tonight, she showed up to my apartment with a car and a driver. She knocked and then walked right in. I was on my laptop, looking up stuff that I had no business doing. I had spent a couple hours dealing with my father, trying to find out what my next big project was for his empire. He told me there were pictures of me looking too drunk from the other night with Parker. I bit my tongue, wanting to tell him that being drunk was the logical way to deal with Parker.

“Hey bitch,” Whitney said as she opened the large stainless steel refrigerator and looked for something to eat or drink. “Ugh. Nothing good. Let’s get someone to cook us a decent meal.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Grumpy?”

“Tired.”

“No you’re not. We’ve got plans.”

“Plans?”

“I think I’m sick of the city.”

That got my full attention. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

Whitney was tall, skinny, the perfect image of a model. Personal trainers, personal chefs, even a few surgeries that nobody was allowed to talk about made Whitney look the way she did. She loved the camera and the camera loved her. I was the princess and she was the bad girl. But she managed to walk the line but never fall over the other side. And even if she put a foot there her daddy was there to pay everyone off and reset the image. I guess her father learned his lesson with Whitney’s mother. (Who, by the way, lived in a private resort somewhere on the west coast. Unable to travel. Unable to do anything but what she was told to do.)

I walked to Whitney and touched her forehead. “Are you sick?”

“Nope. Just want something different.”

“Different?”

“I’m tired of the rich boys,” she said. “I want a dirty bad boy tonight.”

She picked out men like people would pick food off a menu.

“Ew.”

“Ew yourself,” Whitney said. She crouched and opened a door, finding bottles of booze. She popped up with a bottle of vodka. “Glasses?”

There was no arguing so I went to a cabinet and got two gold shot glasses.

Whitney topped off the shot glasses and we had a drink.

“You need to have some fun,” Whitney said as she poured another round.

“Whoa,” I said. “I’m not drink-”

“Yes you are,” Whitney said. She reached for my hands. “I heard what happened. At the hospital.”

My heart sank. “Oh.”

“That’s so sad. You know? A little kid? It’s scary.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Oh, shit. Your mother. Fuck. That probably makes it worse, huh?”

“A little,” I said.

I was used to Whitney’s airhead, dry, blunt attitude about life. She never had a bad day in her life and if she did she got wasted to make it so it would never stick in her memory.

“That’s why we’re going out.”

“Whit…”

“No,” she said. She slapped the counter. “I know you’ve been working like crazy. I know your father uses your emotions to help sell whatever he’s doing next. He’s a fucking idiot. Like my father. So screw it.”

I couldn’t argue that. “What do you have in mind?”

“I also know you got a little twisted up with Parker the other night. With pictures. Are you two dating or something?”

“No,” I said. “Please. No. I…” I sighed. “I slept with him. I didn’t mean to. It just happened. There is nothing there though. I have no interest in him.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Whitney said with a grin. “Or else you’d have to be a really bad girl tonight.”

“Oh yeah?”

Whitney nudged the shot glass at me. “We’re going into town. No cameras. No people following us. Just show up at a little dive bar and enjoy ourselves a little.”

“That’s your big plan for tonight?”

“Hell yeah. Let’s get changed and go.”

“Get changed…”

“You’re in fancy leggings,” Whitney said. “Dress like a… I don’t know, a poor person or something.”

I shook my head. Whitney could really be a crude bitch sometimes. Like, it wasn’t even funny. She could be so offensive and the sad part was that she didn’t realize it.

She threw back her shot of vodka.

I pushed mine back to her and she threw that one back too.

Then she snapped her fingers.

While I wasn’t in the mood for whatever trouble she wanted to get in to, I had to admit… wearing jeans and a hoodie sounded like a great idea. And going to a bar where you could get a drink and not worry about people judging you on how you sipped it… it was almost like heaven to me. Not to mention not sitting home thinking about stuff I couldn’t control in my life.

So I got changed and got ready.

Whitney said she’d get changed in the car. Which she did. She also had no shame in her body or willingness to get naked.

But there was one thing about Whitney…

Nothing was ever simple – there was always a secret plan behind things.

 

* * *

 

“Dibs,” Whitney whispered to me before the door shut.

I smelled dust and grease. The bar was packed with everyone talking. The instant vibe I got was like a home type thing. That this was where everyone came to chill after a long day. Which also meant we probably stuck out.

A few people looked, looked again, and a couple then began to stare.

“We’re made,” I said.

Last thing I wanted was people to call me out for being a princess.

“Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“I call dibs.”

“Dibs? On…”

“Straight ahead. Big shoulders. Bigger arms. Tattoos on one arm. Wicked dark eyes that are already begging to fuck me.”

I looked forward and felt like someone had sucked the air out of my lungs.

He was just staring at me.

Not at Whitney.

Staring at me.

A big distance between us, people between us, but our eyes were locked.

“Oh, never mind,” Whitney said. “He’s locked on you, Liv. Go get that dirty guy.”

“Stop it,” I said.

Whitney then just walked forward and nestled her way between two guys. She flipped her hair to one side and began to talk as though she had been there every night for five years. She was so smooth. Not to mention confident in her beauty. And that was only fed into by the way guys looked at her.

So there I just stood, almost shy, looking around, taking the entire place in. I had grown up with the idea that people who weren’t rich did nothing but work and struggle and hate their lives. But here there were people talking and laughing. Playing pool. Flirting with each other. Guys throwing darts, cheering for each other, teasing each other. It looked really fun. Much better than the nights I was used to. Sitting in a chair a certain way. Letting a waiter put a napkin on my lap. Wearing a dress and lipstick that matched. Sitting next to a window that looked at the city. Sitting across from a dweeb like Parker or business professionals where I’d either have to sell them something for my father’s empire or get information out of them to give to my father so he could destroy them.

But this was the extreme opposite.

I glanced across the bar again and saw the rough looking man but he was no longer looking at me. Instead he had his arm around a woman. She leaned in and planted a kiss to his cheek. Call me crazy but for a split second I was jealous.

She then stood up and walked toward another woman.

The rough guy stood up too and began his move.

Right toward me.

I side stepped a little and looked around. I was so awkward. People were still looking at me. A few of them were on their phones. I just knew they were looking up pictures of me. Trying to make sure that I was who they thought. It was kind of easy to find me. When you’re known as the princess… my name and pictures would pop up in any online search.

I looked at Whitney and knew she was done for the night.

Lucky for me, we agreed that if anything happened, someone would take the car and have the driver call for a second one.

I wasn’t paying attention as I turned to make my move for the door.

This was a good idea gone quickly bad. I didn’t have Whitney’s social skills. And I was tired. I should have just stayed…

“Let me get that for you, darling,” a rough voice said.

I looked up and there he was. Opening the door. A smirk on his face.

He held the door with one big hand spread open.

I was forced to squeeze by, my front to his front. My knees a little wobbly.

But the best part?

The way he stared… it was like he had no idea who I was.

 

* * *

 

I watched him light up a cigarette and put his foot against the building like he owned the place. The car we came in was around back but I caught myself just standing there. I could have been in the car and on my way back to my apartment by then.

“I think the term is third wheel,” the rough guy said.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what you are tonight, right? A third wheel.”

“I don’t follow…”

He smiled.

I counted dimples showing against a half dead light at the corner of the bar. I was staring at him in a way I never stared at guys.

“Your friend is in there doing it up. You’re not. You look half scared to be here.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You ran out of the bar.”

“You held the door.”

“I didn’t push you out, darling. You were going for the door anyway.”

I crossed my arms. “Whatever, dude.”

“Dude? Oh, you must be a city chick, huh?”

“Chick?”

“What? You call me dude and I can’t call you chick?”

He took another drag of his cigarette and then flicked it away.

I hated myself that this guy looked cool smoking. Especially after what happened to my mother. And what happened at the hospital. I hated that I was falling for whatever Whitney wanted me to fall for.

“I’m Gavin,” he said. He pushed from the building and stuck his hand out.

“Olivia,” I said as I gave him my hand.

“Olivia. I like that. How about a drink?”

“I don’t know…”

“You came from the city for what?”

“A drink,” I said with a smile. And to escape a life you couldn’t imagine, Gavin.

His name was as sexy as he was. He towered over me. The roughness of him seemed to have a gentler side, but one I’d probably have to earn to see.

“A drink,” Gavin said. “So why don’t we check on your friend and then get you that drink.”

My heart spoke before my head could figure out something reasonable.

“Fine. I’ll take a drink. If you’re buying.”

The truth was that I could buy the bar and not blink at it. But I wanted someone to buy me a drink because they wanted to and not because they had to to show face for the cameras or for my father.

Gavin grinned. “You got it, darling.”

He opened the door to the bar (which strangely had no name) and winked at me.

I stepped into the bar and stepped into a night that wouldn’t end until morning.