Chapter Four
Anthony
Dad’s gonna kill me.
I can’t help but think that with a wry smile as I lift a glass of Scotch to my lips. I’ve been thinking it all night, in club after club, every time I walk in and get recognized by casual acquaintances and perfect strangers alike. At some point, pictures of me will end up online, and Dad will kill me. There’s a sort of satisfaction in knowing that it’s inevitable. He just doesn’t get my life. I need him to know I do what I want, when I want, why I want. I won’t jump just because he tells me to.
I love him, but he can be a real asshole sometimes, particularly when it comes to getting his way. I wonder what things would be like if Mom hadn’t died. If I’d gone to any college I wanted rather than busting my ass to get into Princeton since that was Dad’s alma mater. Or, if I had earned something other than the MBA Dad wanted me to pursue. What would life have been like if everything wasn’t always about what my dad wanted for me, but for once about what I wanted for myself?
Is it any wonder I pull these little rebellious stunts? I mean, I’m twenty-eight-years-old. I should be able to run my own fucking life. Right?
My friend, Tyler, looks in much worse shape than me, anyway. I’m only buzzed. I know how to pace myself. He, on the other hand, is trying to drink a woman away. Never a good idea. He’s chatting up a blonde with a rack that could smother a guy if things got rough. Tyler’s always been a tits guy. Not that I dislike boobs, but I don’t go into a bar looking for the chick with the biggest set the way he does.
I’m not going to get in his way. Let him look for the most expensive set of tits he can find. Let him take a girl home and bang his ex out of his system. I’m just the wingman keeping an eye on him from a few feet away. Making sure he doesn’t hurt himself or someone else. He can be an angry drunk sometimes, and the last thing I need is a brawl. Even I’m not that stupid.
I look around, squinting a little to see into the dark corners. The whole place is dark, really. Like beer goggles aren’t bad enough, let’s make sure the lighting is so dim a guy can’t see his hand in front of his face. The bar is backlit in warm amber tones, and the rich, polished wood throughout the club just adds to the feeling of exclusivity. Only members can get in here, and they are carefully vetted. Not that weird shit goes down or anything like that, but the management likes to keep a certain standard. I appreciate that they have standards like my own.
I focus on a pair of familiar eyes and am startled to find them staring back at me. The so-blonde-you-know-it’s-fake hair is the next giveaway. My stomach sours as it clicks that I just locked eyes with my ex-girlfriend. Judging by the way she hops off her chair and stalks toward me like a cat, she’s been waiting for an excuse to come over. Just my luck.
“Hey, sexy.” She folds her arms on the edge of the bar and bends forward a little, like she wants to give me a view down her skintight black dress.
Like I haven’t seen it all before?
Like I want to see it again?
“What do you want?” I empty my glass and avoid eye contact. Instead, I look over at Tyler to see how well he’s doing with his girl. She’s hanging on his every word. Good for him. At least one of us will probably be getting lucky tonight.
“You don’t have to be nasty.”
I’m not giving her the satisfaction of responding to her tone of voice, but I can tell she’s pouting. That’s always her go-to when things aren’t going her way. I might’ve fallen for it once, just like I had for that ‘look at my cleavage’ move, but I’ve moved long past it.
“I don’t? That’s funny coming from you.”
“What’s funny about it?” No surprise that she drops the childish shit when she sees it isn’t working on me.
Well, the pouting anyway. Now she just sounds like a spoiled brat.
I toss back the last of my drink and wave over the bartender. “You telling me not to be nasty, Trin. You’re the queen of nasty, aren’t you?” I trade my empty glass for a full one, not looking at her as I keep talking. “It’s over. I thought I made that clear.”
“You don’t know what you want, baby.” She makes the mistake of touching my arm, and I fling her hand off.
“Don’t touch me. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I never wanted to see you again,” I snarl. What did I ever see in her? I used to think she was hot, sexy, funny, smart. Now, she just looks incredibly cheap. Ironic considering how much money she’s spent on her looks.
Her dark eyes narrow dangerously. “Nobody talks to me like that, Anthony! Not even a fucking James!”
“Not even men you cheated on? I think that gives me the right to talk to you any goddamn way I please.”
“One slip up!”
I laugh at her way of bending the truth. “A slip up that lasted four months and resulted in a series of sex tapes that would put some porn stars to shame.” I shake my head. “Forget about it. Nobody cheats on me and gets away with it.”
A movement around the corner of my eye catches my attention, and just as I notice a punk with a camera phone video taping our every word, I realize how loud we’ve become.
Great. I can’t wait to see where the video ends up.
“Everybody thinks they’re fuckin’ paparazzi now,” I sneer.
Tyler’s fine. He’s going to get laid and wake up with a hell of a hangover, both of which he can handle on his own. I need to get out of here fast before Trinity, or my secret videographer, or anybody else fucks my night up any further. I throw a hundred bucks at the bartender and rush out before Trinity can try to stop me. That will do nothing but turn into a whole new shit show.
Where can I go? I don’t want that jerk following me with the phone. He probably knows who I am and thinks he can get some cash for the video, not that it’s that big a deal since everyone already knows that Trinity cheated on me. I suppose it doesn’t matter why we argued. Tabloid journalists can always spin a story out of nothing.
I turn up the collar of my coat against the cold wind and round the corner, eyes darting back and forth for a place to hide. Is this what my life has come to? For the first time, I wonder if maybe I should have listened to my father.
I eye a little shit hole joint where nobody in their right mind would ever come looking for me. Compared to what I just left, it might as well be in the ghetto. Perfect for waiting until I can get away unnoticed.
The place reeks of smoke, even though smoking in public establishments has been illegal in New York for years. It must cling to the ceiling tiles, deep inside the stuffing of the padded booths. I make a face. I have my vices, but smoking isn’t one of them. I like my health too much.
There’s jazz music coming from somewhere, and that just adds to the throwback vibe. Posters inside the entrance advertise live entertainment on the weekend. This is a Monday, though, and the music is canned.
I perch on a stool at the far end of the bar, away from the door, and survey the crowd. That’s a generous word, as it’s more like a smattering of people. Mostly people in their mid to late thirties, but there are a few people in their twenties like me, including a cute little brunette at the other end. After my encounter with Trinity, I appreciate how natural and sweet the young woman looks. Not cheap or flashy, not trying to attract all the attention in the room. If anything, she looks completely out of her element here, which makes me wonder what her element is.
Normally, I’d go in for the kill, but somehow, that doesn’t seem right. So, I watch her instead. I wonder who she is and how best to introduce myself.