Chapter 7
Emma
“My feet are killing me.” Mercy’s boots are adorable but just a bit too narrow for my feet, so wearing them all day was a bad decision. I wanted to cry when the elevator was broken on my last delivery, and I had to huff it up three flights of stairs. Fortunately, the office was relatively clean, so I slipped out of them and ran down barefoot after making the delivery. But then shoving my swollen feet back into those damn things when I got to the street was a whole new level of torture. “I can’t go dancing.”
Mercy balls her fists on her hips and stares me down. “Owen is at a sleepover, and we never go out together anymore. We’re doing this.”
I rub a particularly sore spot on the ball of my foot as I consider my options. “I’ll go if I can wear flip-flops.”
Her stern glare morphs into a huge smile. “Done. I have a super comfy pair that has a slick bottom, so you’ll be fine dancing in them.”
“Yeah, I’m sure my feet will feel awesome after being stepped on all night by drunk people.” I chuckle as I heave my tired ass off her couch to go get showered. “But after a drink or five, I won’t care.”
“Be sure to wear something slutty to make up for your footwear.”
I shuffle to the door, waving goodbye to her with my favorite finger. “If you let me wear sweats and a t-shirt, drinks are on me tonight.”
She laughs, knowing I’m full of shit but gives me a warning for good measure. “I’ll kill you if you try it…”
Even though I’d love to curl up on the couch and binge-watch Netflix, I also need to get laid. Like hard and fast and make-me-scream kind of laid. Now that I’m not worried about money, thanks to a certain arrogant but sexy customer, I can focus on my other pressing needs. Like the one I’d like pressed by something other than my vibrator.
It’s been long enough that I think I might be ready for a one-night stand. It’s not really my style, but my style isn’t working. If I’m going to truly get past Rick, I need to distract myself with other guys.
~**~
“The Stumble In? We haven’t been there in forever,” I say as Mercy walks out of her apartment and meets me in the hall.
“Well… Don’t get mad, okay?”
“Dammit, Mercy. What did you do?”
She gives me her sweet as sugar smile. “It’s actually Hilary’s bachelorette party.”
“Her bachelorette party. Seriously? I barely know Hilary. She’s not gonna want me there.”
Mercy wraps her arm around mine, urging me to walk faster. “Of course she does. She loves you, and it’s a party. The more, the merrier.”
I’ve only met Mercy’s manager from the restaurant once or twice when I stopped in for deliveries, but she does seem really nice. I put my hand on Mercy’s arm and dig in my heels, making her stop beside me. “Does that mean drinks are free?”
Mercy’s grin grows even wider as she nods. “The maid of honor is covering bottle service, so we won’t be buying any drinks tonight.”
“Okay, that changes things.” I start walking again, tugging Mercy along beside me. “Why didn’t you say that to begin with?”
She rests her head on my shoulder for just a second as she laughs. “I was saving the best for last.”
The bar isn’t packed when we arrive, but there’s a good crowd. It takes a few minutes just to work our way toward the back where the new section of private lounges are set up. Hilary already looks wasted when we slip past the velvet ropes and squeeze onto the huge leather sectional. Seven other women are already there, so Mercy doesn’t waste any time before fixing us cocktails. The glass she hands me looks like eight ounces of vodka with a splash of cranberry, but that’s okay with me. I like my drinks like I like my men. Strong and scorching hot as they pour down my throat.
“Thank you for coming.” Hilary almost falls into my lap trying to give me a hug.
“Yeah, of course. Thanks for letting me tag along. And congratulations on the wedding. He’s a lucky man.”
Everyone goes silent as Hilary stares at me before busting up in laughter. “Obviously, Mercy didn’t mention that I’m marrying a woman, but thank you. I appreciate the sentiment.”
I turn to Mercy with my most annoyed face, wishing I could drop her with the daggers shooting from my eyes. She just smiles innocently and takes a gulp of her drink. We both quickly down our first drinks, and Mercy pours us refills. By the time I finish the second one, I’m feeling warm and loose.
“I’m ready to dance.” I stand up and move in place to the fast beat as it vibrates through my bones.
Mercy takes the hint and quickly moves to my side, dragging me onto the dance floor.
The club is a lot busier than usual. People are pressed against me from every direction, and the music has a faster dance beat. I lean into Mercy and whisper, “Why is it so busy tonight?”
She turns her head to speak into my ear. “There’s a guest D.J. tonight. Guess who it is.”
I shrug. “No clue. Who?”
“Remember the host of that TV show we were watching the other night?”
My jaw drops as I remember who she’s talking about. “The gorgeous blond with those silver eyes?”
Mercy’s grin grows. “Yep. He’s supposed to start spinning at midnight.”
“Oh my god. That’s so cool. I love him.”
Mercy starts dancing again then leans into my ear. “Just keep your hands off my husband, and we won’t have any problems.” She winks and then does a half spin so her back is facing my front as she leans forward and shakes her butt in front of me. I give her what I know she wants and smack her ass a few times, laughing as the people around us hoot and holler.
I’m definitely not old, but I feel like it sometimes. Spin master XTZ is gorgeous, but he might actually be a little too edgy for me. I don’t know most of the songs he’s playing, and as soon as I do recognize a familiar beat, he cuts in a different song that I’ve never heard before. It’s actually starting to get frustrating. Mercy and Jeanea are dancing with a couple guys, so I head back to the couch for my second break in almost three hours.
Hilary looks like she’s about to fall asleep, but as soon as I sit down beside her, she perks up and reaches for her glass.
“Emma.” She wraps her hands around my arm and tucks her head into my neck. “I’m so glad you came. You’re so much fun.” Her words are slurred as she finds a comfortable position.
I’ve literally spent three minutes with the woman tonight, so I’m not sure how she knows I’m fun. But I smile and pat her hand gently. “Thanks, Hilary. I’m really glad I came too.”
She smiles for a second, and then it turns into a frown. “Am I not fun?”
“No!” I lift the arm she’s clinging to and try to tuck it behind her back in a half hug. “You’re a lot of fun. I’m having a great time.”
She’s beaming again. “I’m so glad. I don’t have a lot of friends, so I wasn’t sure how this night would go. But it’s been great.”
“Yeah. It’s great.” God, why do the drunk ones always glom on to me?
She closes her eyes and snuggles deeper into my side. A few of her friends come back for drink refills or just to sit for a minute. They seem relieved that I’m the designated bachelorette-sitter so they don’t have to be. Several girls snap photos of the bride-to-be curled up in my lap, but I ignore them. I just lean back and settle in to do some people watching. Everyone in the club looks like they’re having a great time. Lots of beautiful people with beautiful smiles.
As my eyes filter through the faces surrounding me, I’m startled to see a slightly familiar one staring back at me.
Sebastian James.
The man who listened to me pour my heart out about my financial woes and then gave me a $5,000 tip for dropping off a sandwich to his office. Although, I’ve been called back to James Lighting a few times to make deliveries, I’ve managed to avoid running into him each time. And I’m grateful for that because I have no idea what I’d say to him if we were ever face-to-face.
Like I am right now.
My only saving grace is that he’s walking with a group of guys, and I’m safely behind a velvet rope with an unconscious lesbian in my lap. My eyes track him as he passes, and whatever buzz I had going is instantly gone.
I stay with Hilary for a few more minutes before deciding it’s time to head home. The maid of honor is Snapchatting selfies on Hilary’s other side, so I lean forward to get her attention. “Misty, I think I’m gonna head out.”
She nods but then looks down at Hilary. “Oh.”
“Yeah, should I just lay her down here?” I gesture to the sofa we’re on.
Misty looks relieved as she nods. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” She probably thought I was going to shove her best friend into her arms. I probably should have, but she must have realized Hilary is down for the count and wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.
I carefully scoot across the cushion and lower Hilary onto the couch as I go. She mumbles something but doesn’t wake up. And although I’m not positive, I think she mentioned something about the room spinning. Which is definitely my cue to get the hell out of here. I give the other girls a quick wave goodbye, and then I go looking for Mercy.
When I find her, she’s making out with some guy who is just a few inches taller than her. He’s not her usual type, but they look good together and seem to be having fun. I step beside her for a minute, hoping she’ll feel my presence and come up for air. When she doesn’t, I tap her shoulder to get her attention. She startles before realizing it’s just me.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?” Her lips are raw and swollen. I’m kinda jealous.
“I’m gonna call for a ride back home. Are you okay here, or do you want to head back with me?”
She looks at her new friend for a minute then turns back to me. “Are you sure you can get home by yourself?”
Yeah, that’s what I thought. “Of course. Text me when you get home, okay?”
She nods, and I put my hand on her shoulder, giving her a little squeeze. “I mean it. Don’t forget to text me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mom. I promise.”
I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and then decide to get extra paranoid, pulling out my phone and snapping a picture of her and her new friend. I’m sure he’s not going to drug her and chop her up into bits, but you never know. And at least now I’ll remember what he looks like if I need to give a description to the cops. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad, but he doesn’t even seem surprised when I snap the photo then shove the phone back into my pocket.
“Be safe,” I say as I wave goodbye and work my way across the dance floor toward the front door. There’s a crowd bunched up around the exit, so I take a step back, looking for a way around the masses. When I feel a tap on my shoulder, I naturally assume I’m in somebody’s way and take a step to the side. But when that tap turns into a large hand closing around my shoulder, I flinch and instinctively look to see who’s touching me.
It’s him. Sebastian James.
He leans forward so his lips are practically touching my ear. “Can I buy you a drink?”
It takes me a minute to force my brain to respond with words instead of just a shocked stare, and when I do, I remember why I’ve been avoiding him. “Thanks, but I’m just trying to head out.”
His thumb glides over my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine. “Come on. Just one drink.”
He’s watching me so intently that I feel anxious about what he might see in my reaction. Will he think I’m being a bitch? Will he think I’m interested? Does he just feel sorry for me? I’ve had too many drinks tonight to be able to ponder his motives, so while I’m about to say no, my head bobs up and down. Before I can correct the misdirected nod, Sebastian James graces me with a brilliant smile.
Damn. How can I say no to that?
Clearly, I can’t. So when his hand slides down my bicep, and he gives me a gentle tug toward his chest, I fall right into him. Loving every second of it.
“I have a table over here.” There are small booths tucked into corners throughout the club. Apparently, Mr. James has one reserved.
I follow him to a table and slide in when he steps aside. It’s U-shaped, so I slide all the way to the back, assuming he’ll sit at the edge and we’ll be at a ninety-degree angle from each other.
He doesn’t.
He slides in too, his thigh pressing against mine and his long arm brushing my shoulder blades as he rests it on the cushion behind my back. “What are you drinking?”
I shrug. “At this point, Diet Coke is probably my best bet.”
He smirks as if I’m joking. “Do you like champagne?”
What kind of question is that? “Yeah, of course.”
He pulls his eyes off me and signals with his hand to someone in the distance.
I follow his gaze, and I’m able to narrow down the recipient of his message to either the bartender or some punk-looking kid staring right at him. I assume he was talking to the bartender.
“You’re here with friends tonight?” he asks, obviously referencing the scene he witnessed earlier.
I nod and turn toward him but stop when I realize how very close he is to me. With Mr. James leaning into me, I can smell the liquor on his breath and feel the warm air puffing against my cheek as he speaks. I shift my weight and pull my left knee up onto the cushion so there’s not only some space between us, but so I can look into his eyes as we speak. “Yeah, a friend of a friend is having a bachelorette party.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “The friend you were sitting with earlier?”
I smile as I imagine what we must have looked like with Hilary curled up around me.
“No, that was the bride. My friend hooked up with some guy and is probably still out on the dance floor.”
He looks out into the ocean of people as if he’s going to recognize someone he’s never met before. “You didn’t find anyone to dance with tonight?”
I’m surprised by his question, and as soon as I open my mouth to speak, two champagne flutes are placed in front of us. A server fills our glasses then leaves a bucket of ice at the end of the table to keep the rest of the bottle chilled. Mr. James reaches for his glass and looks at me expectantly until I grab mine. Even though it’s filled almost to the brim, he tilts it slightly in my direction and waits for me to do the same. “To meeting new people.”
“Cheers,” I say quietly as my brain processes his words. I take a sip from the glass as I realize he might not know who I am. He’s really only seen me the one time, and I’m sure he doesn’t make a habit of paying attention to delivery people, but it still stings. If what his assistant said is true and he gives huge tips to lots of people, it’s very possible he has no idea I’m the same woman he listened to whining in an elevator then gave a bunch of money to.
A new level of mortification sinks in as I take another drink of my champagne, downing almost half the glass in one gulp.
Mr. James is watching me, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “You like it?”
I can’t look him in the eye, so I whisper that I do and begin to twirl the glass on the table between my fingers.
“I’m Sebastian,” he says, confirming my suspicions that he doesn’t remember me.
I take a deep breath and glance at him. “Emma.”
“That’s a beautiful name, Emma. Is it short for something?” He shocks me once again.
“Yeah, actually, it is. But no one ever asks me that.”
His eyes hold me in their grip, and even though part of me wants to look away so he doesn’t have the opportunity to recognize me, I just can’t do it. “What is it short for?”
Ugh. I hate telling people my full name. “It’s silly and I hate it.”
His smile grows. “Now I’m really intrigued. Please tell me.”
I take a deep breath and force my eyes to the napkin on the table. “Gemma.”
His eyebrows rise at my response. “What’s wrong with Gemma? I think that’s a beautiful name.”
“I don’t know. I never liked it. When I was little, there were these dolls that all my friends played with and one was named Gemma. For a while, it was a cool name to have. But as soon as we outgrew the dolls, it was just embarrassing.”
“Kids can be cruel,” he says before taking another drink. “Parents too. Where did they come up with the name Gemma?”
Wow, he knows how to ask all the right questions. “My mom’s a bit of a…gypsy.” I hold in a laugh when he frowns. “Not like a real gypsy…like ethnically or whatever. But she has that transient spirit. She never stays in one place for long, and she’s always got some hustle or another going. I think when she named me, it was an homage to jewelry gods who would bring her wealth or some bullshit like that.” I take another sip from my glass, and my cheeks heat from admitting such a lame story about my mother. I never tell people about her crazy.
Because they might not say it to my face, but I know everyone wonders if and when my crazy will truly start to show.
Any remnants of amusement disappear from Sebastian’s face, and I see a tic in his jaw that almost makes him look angry. Or is that disappointment? He empties his glass into his mouth then turns to me. “Do you need a ride home?”
Okay. Not exactly what I was expecting, but it’s probably a good idea for me to get out of here. “No. I’ll just call an Uber.”
He shakes his head and reaches for my hand. “I’ll have my driver drop you off.” He’s already sliding out of the booth and dragging me behind him before I can protest. I vaguely notice him on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.
“You have a driver?”
He practically glares at me before looking straight ahead as we maneuver through the crowd.