♫ Chandelier - Sia ♫
June
Miami, FL
Ah, Jack, my old friend, I thought to myself with a blissfully inebriated smile as I pressed my lips to the bottle and took another long sip. I’d drunk so much already, the welcome burn didn’t even burn anymore. Probably why Scotty-boy, the good ‘ol bartender, passed me the bottle over half hour ago. He’d been pouring tumbler after tumbler while still serving the rest of the Blackbird Ordinary regulars.
But then the motherfucker started slacking, and I wasn’t having it.
I was, however, absolutely okay with serving myself, hence why he found me halfway over the bar from the corner of his eyes when he’d turned his back to distribute a few beers. I would’ve knocked the unamused glare he shot me off his face had he not been such a good friend, and a better client. Scott wasn’t stupid, though, and a quick reminder I had certain rights as the birthday girl, lead him to setting down the bottle in front of me without a glance back. I almost patted his graying head and praised him with a purred ‘good boy’ in tow, but figured a quick smack on the cheek and an additional black baggy would suffice.
“So, any calls from the folks?” Vic asked suddenly from his perch on the stool between my inked legs.
I stilled momentarily, eyeing him closely. “Nope,” I answered, popping the P. “You should know this.”
“I know, but it’s your birthday. Don’t you think they miss you?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. If they missed me, they’d have tracked me down a decade ago when I first left Leeds.”
“True.” He nodded awkwardly. “I just can’t believe they haven’t—”
“Can we not talk about this?” I growled, cutting him off. “They’re dead to me, end of story.”
“Okay, okay, my bad. I was just curious is all. So are you gonna share the rest or what?” he questioned, motioning the bottle lodged firmly in my grasp.
“By share, you mean a sip, right?” I retorted.
“No, I mean like, let me kill it,” he clarified.
I scoffed through my nose and raked a hand through my emerald green tresses. “Negative. That last lil’ bit is mine.”
“C’mon, L!” He protested, warm palms slithering up my thighs. “You’ve drank the entire bottle already. Let me have the rest.”
His touch kinda made my skin crawl. I shooed him off and narrowed my eyes. “It’s my birthday, dickhead. I’ll have however much I fucking want. You thirsty? Get your ass up and buy your own drink.”
Vic scowled, dark brows furrowed and all, to which I rolled my eyes. God, he was a pain in my ass. But as my righthand man, he—unfortunately—went almost everywhere with me, mostly because he played multiple roles; business confidant, assistant, security.
He’d like a permanent role in my bed, too, after what spiraled out of control the other night, but that was never gonna happen. The mere thought could throw me into a manic fit of laughter.
Don’t get me wrong, Vic somehow turned out to be a great lay, I guess, but that’s as far as it would ever go for me. I didn’t do relationships. Never had, never would. I’d learned at a very young age that the only person I could truly trust was me, myself, and I.
“You’re a mean ass drunk, you know that,” he added with a snarl.
“And you’re wrong, on two different accounts,” I countered, downing the last bit of whiskey he so desperately wanted.
“How I am wrong? You are mean as fuck.”
“Exactly, but that’s everyday common knowledge. No need to treat it as breaking news.”
“Alright, fine, I’ll give you that, but what else am I supposedly so wrong about?” he quizzed, inching closer as though it were confidential.
So I leaned in closely too, dragging one of my claws under his chin. “I’m not drunk,” I whispered.
Vic threw his head back and howled a full-bellied laugh that prompted those in the near vicinity to look our way. “That’s a load of bullshit. You’re fucked the hell up, Lux.”
“Fucked up, yeah, but not drunk. I’m not a lightweight, Vic. I can handle my liquor.”
“You won’t be saying that once I spark one in the car,” he snickered, the confidence of his statement sending my eyes in another 360 spin.
“Just because you spark one doesn’t mean I’m going to partake.”
“Please, it’s your birthday. You’re gonna hit it at least once, and then I’m gonna take you home, and hit that.”
Oh no he fucking didn’t.
Whistling at Scott without so much as a cut of my eyes in his direction, I held up the now emptied bottle of Jack and arched an unamused brow at Vic, crossing one leg over the other. “Yeah? Well, it’s unfortunate you don’t call the shots then, huh? I know you like to think you do, since you do so much for me and all, but really, you don’t. I do—a concept you should be quite familiar with by now. We slept together once, Vic. Stop assuming you now have access to my pussy whenever you please.”
“Ouch. Jesus Christ, L, what gives? Who the fuck pissed on your birthday cake before we got here?”
“No one. Was part of your proposition not for me to come to you?” I questioned, examining my currently bright purple stiletto nails that were going to need a fill soon.
“For the first time, yeah.” He sounded incredulous.
“For the first time was not specified when you stated your terms, Mr. Kane, therefore, your objection means fuck all to me.”
Now he looked really offended, ivy green eyes blazing in the dim lighting of the obscure bar. The veins in his neck bulged as he grit his jaw together. “Are you serious,” he spat. “So I can’t come to you, but you expect me to drop my pants and whip out my dick whenever you want? What makes you think I’ll be so willing?”
“Simple,” I stated, taking a swig from the new bottle Scott set beside me seconds prior. “Because you want me, Vic. As a matter of fact, those were your exact words when we discussed your offer in my office.”
“Why do you sound so amused by this? Obviously I want you if I’m taking you to bed.”
“No. No-no,” I laughed out loud. “No. Taking me to bed and wanting me are two different things. You want me, Kane, for yourself, in and out of bed. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three-sixty-five a year. You have for a long time. But you wanna know a secret?”
Vic nodded, and while I knew the action was meant to be subtle, I could see the hopeful gleam sparking within his serious expression.
“That’s not gonna happen.” I smirked in satisfaction as his face fell before my very eyes. “You wanna roll around in the sack a few times a week and blow some steam? By all means, fuck me like a rag doll, but I’m not spreading my legs at your beck and call. It’s either my way or you can toss your proposition in the trash and set in on fire, got it?”
Scoffing a laugh, he pushed his stool back in a hurry, one that clearly let on to how disappointed he was by the way it scraped against the floor. His stare remained downcast as he pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and fished out a few bills, discarding them onto the polished bar top.
“It’s all good, Lux, I got it. And since that’s the case, I’m gonna go. I’ll see you Monday.”
“See ‘ya Monday, baby cakes,” I purred mockingly, flashing him a purposeful wink and all.
Again, he was not amused, but do you really think I gave a shit? Just because I let him fuck me once didn’t mean he was suddenly entitled to screw me whenever he wanted. And this didn’t just apply to Vic. I’d be damned if any man thought he owned me.
No one owned me.
NO. ONE.
Lux Mercier rode solo.
I always had and I always would because there was not one person on this planet who could handle me in all my depraved glory, let alone ride with me until the very end.