Suzy
“It looks more gorgeous each time I see it. I’m so happy for you.” I stare in awe at the sizeable princess-cut and the smaller diamonds sparkling madly even under the dim lighting. “Mr. Hawkes is so crazy about you. I thought for sure he was going to propose during your birthday party. Lord knows how long he’s been waiting for this.”
The promise of discounted cocktails and appetizers brought in the rush of happy hour lovers. With her CEO fiancé staying late at the office for a board meeting, Gemma invited me to join her for a drink.
“Brad doesn’t like to do anything predictable. Besides, we haven’t been together that long, even if we’ve known each other forever,” Gemma comments while busy admiring the gleaming hand on display for another second, elated grin stretched wide, before lifting the Long Island iced tea. She shrugs and tosses back a healthy dose. “I didn’t want to be tied down too young, but Brad is almost thirty-one and doesn’t want to wait much longer, so we compromised. I wear the ring, but the wedding won’t be for another year.”
Too young? “I thought you were twenty-five?” I could’ve sworn the number five was after the two on Gemma’s giant birthday cake. And the twenty-five bouquets of flowers spread throughout Mr. Hawkes and Gemma’s home. Or the twenty-five gifts Mr. Hawkes had surprised Gemma with during her big celebration.
She barely holds back from licking at the bottom of the empty glass before setting it down with defeat and flicking a hand, her hazel eyes glittering with joy, a tap beer, and two vibrant cocktails. “Yeah, but I want to wait until I’m at least twenty-six. Brad knows that.”
By the time my mother was twenty-five, she’d had three kids. My two half-sisters and me. Joyce is younger than me but doesn’t much care about men, and Kaia… well, hopefully she’s finally over that douchebag she was dating.
I allow a baffled look. “But why?”
“Because of Carlson,” she lets out with a half giggle, half hiccup. “He said the human mind doesn’t fully develop until after twenty-six… or was that human emotions?” She shakes her head, sending brown tresses flying. “Whatevs. Something like that. He read that somewhere. The man is always reading. Anyway, he said people shouldn’t make major decisions based on emotions before twenty-six.” This time, a belching laugh escapes. “Brad almost killed him for sharing that with me.”
My idiot heart leaps at the mention of Carlson. I haven’t seen him since yesterday outside of the office kitchen. At Laura’s frantic urging, I ran up the stairs to the fifty-eighth floor, my heart racing alongside Laura’s panic, only to find a brewed mess where Martin Perez had dropped an entire tumbler of coffee on the presentation mockups. We had no way of knowing at the time that the COO’s limbs had gone numb, or that he would suffer a severe stroke a few hours later.
By the time I salvaged what I could of the mockups and returned to my desk, Carlson was long gone, leaving behind the bag with my forgotten shoes.
“How is Carlson?” I murmur. The bar is packed with a boisterous crowd, but I know my friend can hear me at the small table. “I haven’t seen him today.”
Enthusiastically, Gemma signals for another round from a passing server. “Oh, you know Carlson. I’m sure Brad has him around here somewhere, spying on me.”
My back - and the rest of me – jerks up with keen attention. “He’s here? In the bar?”
Gemma rolls her eyes. “Where else would he be? Carlson thinks the second he averts his attention I’d be kidnapped or get struck by a random meteorite.” She leans over, gleaming eyes suddenly round with mischief. “You want to put that to the test?”
I recognize that look. Gemma likes to torment Mr. Hawkes with teasing shenanigans, and this is looking to be one of those times she can’t resist. “What do you have in mind,” I ask suspiciously, inclining just a little in whispered conspiracy.
Teeth nibble at her bottom lip as she bites back a cheeky smirk. She’s definitely up to something. “Let’s go down to Lure Thunder.”
“Isn’t that a strip club?”
“It’s only a strip club when men dance with their clothes off,” she reasons rationally.
I blink at her. “Isn’t that what they do?”
“Not the whole time. They dance in their clothes first. So really, it’s only a strip club half the time.”
Maybe I need another drink to follow that. Ever helpful, Gemma scoots a beer closer to me as though reading my mind.
“Wouldn’t Mr. Hawkes get upset with you?”
“Oh please.” She waves that off like she did with the offer of food in favor of another drink. “He knows I love him with my whole heart. There’s no one but him.” Stunning diamonds flash as she wiggles her hand fleetingly. “‘til death do us part… even then he might not let go. We’re just going to take in a show. Besides,” she goes on, sending me a cheeky grin. “Carlson won’t let anything crazy happen. What’s the big deal?”
“I don’t know, Gem-Gem…”
“Suzy,” she sighs. “You don’t honestly think there’s anything wrong with having gorgeous men swing their junk in our faces, do you? I mean, seriously. What are we, nuns? It’s not like we’re going to arrange them according to size for dick pics.”
As discreetly as I can manage, I skim my gaze around the many crammed tables, my eyes actively scanning through the crowded bar and the animated men surrounding the counter. Given his startling size, Carlson would stand out without trying.
Only there’s no sign of him. As hard as I try, I don’t see that gentle giant anywhere.
And I’ve tried. It seems all I ever do is try to catch a distant glimpse of him.
My shoulders deflate along with my spirit. “I don’t think Carlson is here, Gemma. Maybe he’s at the office waiting for Mr. Hawkes.”
“Trust me, girl. Carlson is around.” She grins. “And there’s one way to prove it.”
~~~~~
I didn’t know they came in that size.
But then again, I’ve never been to a strip club.
Oh wait… half a strip club.
Wild screams roar through the vibrating building to compete with fast beats and talented, gyrating hips. A thin shirt rips right off a brawny, slicked-up chest and is hurled soaring through the leaping, shouting crowd. Horny, sweaty female bodies on spirited feet, frantically waving bills and screeching with unleashed elation. I don’t know if the rapid, booming music is more deafening or the stimulated, energized women, hollering in abandoned chaos.
Then there are the men.
This isn’t right. There must be a law against men that look like them.
As I ogle – ur, watch – a spectacular blond with an unnatural tan vaults down the stage, bursting muscles rippling, and lands brazenly in front of Gemma. Competing strobe lights flash with urgency to highlight his wicked smirk.
Gemma is off her seat and hooting raucously, deftly stuffing bills down the guy’s waistband before throwing her arms up and swaying in tune with the delighted dancer.
In a blink he’s pulling me to my feet. His hands grip my awkward hips to begin rocking me against his rotating, very clever pelvis.
“You having a good time?” he shouts over the thumping beats. He’s got an adorable southern accent.
I laugh. It’s coming out as all nerves. Probably because he’s already knocked me up with that sexy, suggestive smile alone. “Yeah,” I manage to choke out. “Sure. You’re not from around here.”
He chuckles like I said something funny. Maybe he’s laughing at my sad attempt to have a casual conversation while a mostly naked man expertly works my eggs. “Name’s Dash.”
“I, um, I’m Suzy.”
I glance over at the bills discreetly jamming into my hand.
For him, Gemma mouths next to me.
Oh, right. I’m supposed to tip the Alluring Adonis for being my baby daddy.
Is there a way to do this with dignity?