I pushed the eerie feeling aside, but Lucy already noted my panicked expression with an exasperated sigh. “You’re not walking the green mile, Quinn. You’re simply here to have a good time.”
Rubbish. Absolute, utter rubbish. When a rare night off from work heralded its arrival, a good time was had by welcoming it warmly with wine, reality television, and sweatpants.
Her fingers dug in as we reached the bouncer on the left. The man looked like Wolverine, complete with fierce glower, wild hair, and a beard. Despite the scruff, he rocked a suit. It didn’t surprise me. It was only fitting a bar like this had bouncers tipping the hot scale of the spectrum. According to Lucy, getting inside this place was the equivalent of winning a golden ticket, but apparently she knew one of these two burley sentries, and it appeared that Wolverine was it.
The doors opened and I peeked around his massive bulk and into the deep recesses of the bar. Inside was an atmosphere that was now so foreign to me it was like watching one of the nature documentaries I loved.
“Here you will find the Australian Man, a generally good looking human specimen, drinking in his habitual environment, socialising, laughing and talking, waiting patiently for his moment when the female breaks rank from the herd and—”
Her eyes on me, Lucy muttered, “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“I can see your mind ticking over. You’re doing that David Attenborough thing again, aren’t you?”
“No,” I lied and folded my arms.
Lucy bit her lip but the laugh, full and throaty, bubbled out of her. “You’re such a dork. We really need to get you out more.”
“Good luck with that,” I murmured to myself.
Lucy turned to Wolverine and dazzled him with her smile. “Hi, Sean.”
The lines of people, shamelessly queue jumped by Lucy, watched us with hissing resentment. I averted my eyes and focused on my feet. They were encased in navy coloured shoes: peeptoe with a heel the height of a small building. They were the shoes that went with everything, even the bright yellow I was wearing. I couldn’t do the slinky black look the way all the women waiting to get in could—rocking the sex vibe like they were all born to it. Maybe when I was young and looking for trouble black was the only colour that fit me, but now colour was the only thing that gave me life.
I peered up at Sean from beneath my lashes and caught his returning smile and nod at my best friend.
“Luce,” he said, then he turned his gaze my way, his eyes travelling the length of me.
I shifted uncomfortably but thankfully it didn’t take long. My stature was tiny enough that I didn’t usually attract attention, and I liked it that way. His eyes returned to mine, and they were packing heat. The kind of heat that should’ve singed my skin off if I got too close. It made sense. Make the customer feel good, they’ll come back. By the looks of the line to get in, Wolverine spent a lot of time making the customer feel good. “Who’s your friend?”
Lucy pulled me close and introduced me to Sean.
Ever polite, I offered my hand and said, “Nice to meet you.”
He took my hand and leaned close. “How come I haven’t seen you here before?”
I looked at Lucy. She nodded at me, her wide eyes urging me to say something. “Oh, well, I uh…don’t go out. Much.”
Sean nodded and released my hand. He opened up the big door to usher us through, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived. His big hand came out and landed on my stomach. The light touch halted me in my tracks. “Shame.”
I met his eyes and he smiled at me, removed his hand, and turned back to face the street. The interaction had my nerves returning with full force, and I stumbled through the entrance.
“Booth or bar?” came Lucy’s loud question.
Nerves had me beat and already I needed to take five. “Neither,” I shouted back. “Bathroom.”
We pushed our way through throngs of people crowding the glossy black bar and rows upon rows of button leather booths and found the bathroom. I washed my hands and met my eyes in the mirror as I waited for Lucy to finish. Midnight black mascara highlighted the lashes surrounding my brown eyes. Foundation had done its best to cover the small smattering of freckles across my nose, but I could still see them. Rose blush gave colour to my fair skin, and hot pink lipstick with a slick of strawberry flavoured gloss covered the one feature I couldn’t complain about—full lips. My hair was blonde, but not a beautiful golden colour. It was pale, almost white, and the long waves had long since gone.
When I’d returned home after David put me in hospital, I stood in front of the mirror and hacked it all off myself. My eyes watched dispassionately as each lock dropped carelessly to the ground. My outside needed to match the ugly on the inside; therefore, the long, pretty locks needed to go. I’d let it grow a little, but the choppy style was still short enough it barely touched my shoulders.
Lucy reached across me for a paper towel to dry her hands. A long sheet of black hair hung to her waist, piercing blue eyes sat in a striking face with deep olive skin, and boobs that preceded her into the room by at least a minute. I eyed mine. They were a handful, but that was according to my small hands. I sighed and we returned to the bar, rapidly snatching a booth that a group of people were currently vacating.
“Sit,” Lucy said. “I’ll get the first round.”
My eyes followed her movements and that was when I saw him. He caught my eye because he was by the bar talking and laughing as his friends spoke to him, but his eyes weren’t smiling. I recognised the look because I’d seen it in the mirror. My heart gave a small tug, and I was sure a bomb could’ve gone off and I wouldn’t have noticed. Realising I was blatantly staring, I closed my mouth and looked down at my hands.
Come on, Quinn. You can do this. There’s a social animal inside there somewhere just waiting to cut loose.
I looked up and let my eyes wander the room, knowing where they would land before they’d even stopped. They found him again and took in his tall length, wide shoulders, and tapered waist. Arms bulged with tanned muscle and thick veins. He had a head of blond hair, shorter than mine, but long enough that it just scraped into a ponytail. Loose strands were tucked casually behind his ears, and it gleamed like spun gold under the lights of the bar.
Girls—tall gorgeous ones with long, fluffy hair—hovered at the fringes of his group. Their slinky dresses were black or navy and their lips red and shiny, making me feel out of place in my golden yellow, hot pink lips, and fair, creamy skin. One of them, tanned and dark haired, said something, and he shouted with laughter. Hearing him laugh was beautiful, but seeing someone like her hold his attention brought me back to reality. I dismissed him and let my eyes move on.
Lucy arrived at the table with a tray of eight shots and two wine glasses. Obviously her aim of the evening was not to smooth my nervous edges but lay them out flat.
“Thank God,” I muttered and reached for the shot, knowing I had the whole day off to pay for it. I tossed the vodka back and almost choked on the burn.
“See anything interesting while I was at the bar?” Lucy asked as she sat down in the booth opposite me, waiting for me to catch my breath.
I fixed my eyes on her. If she knew I’d been eyeing that hot guy she’d be all over it like tinsel on Christmas.
She downed her own shot and hissed.
“Nope,” I replied.
My traitorous eyes wandered sideways, and Lucy followed my line of sight, her eyes widening with glee. “Are you shittin’ me, Quinn? That guy is holy f**k me gorgeous.” Her eyes narrowed on the hovering fangirls and she pursed her lips. “Could be a player.”
I raised my brows at her and pointed my finger. “Exactly.”
I picked up another shot and brought it to my lips.
“But that’s good,” she said, tossing back her long sheet of hair. “That’s what you need. You’re in a man drought of epic proportions. You need someone like him to clear the cobwebs.”
I choked again on my second shot and sputtered. “Lucy! I’m not a…a floozy!”
Lucy snorted with laughter and grabbed her phone. “Who says floozy? I’ve gotta text that one to Rick.” Her fingers started stabbing letters as she texted her husband, chuckling all the while. “Next thing you’ll be calling yourself a lady of the night because you had sex once in all of two years.”
“I haven’t had sex.”
“That’s why we’re here,” she muttered as she hit send and tossed her phone back on the table.
“I thought we were here to have a drink and then go home.”
She ignored me and picked up another shot, drinking it down as her phone buzzed. She read the message and her smile was smug. “Rick’s going to come down for a drink. Then he can keep me company while you make your big move.”
I bit my lip to stop the bark of hysterical laughter threatening to burst out at her statement. If any moves were going to be made, it would involve me running for the door.
“I don’t belong with a man like that, and I don’t belong in a place like this, Lucy.”
We both looked his way. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a stretchy T-shirt that emphasised his muscled chest. It was white and had a band’s name on the front with a picture, but what the thin, tight material revealed had me straining my eyes. It looked like a tiny little bar pierced his right nipple. Complete and utter lust punched me in the gut, and Lucy’s eyes widened when I let out a breathless squeak. Until I’d met Ethan, hot bad boys had always been my thing, and this one appeared to lead the pack.
She flared her nostrils. “Rubbish. Let’s not start this bullshit again, Quinn. You’re not worthless. You’re beautiful, inside and out.”
“Not tonight.” Nerves curdled my stomach into a tight knot, and I fought past the usual wave of self-loathing. For once, I was trying not to let it beat me down.
She pursed her lips. “Okay. Well let me tell you something. Maybe you aren’t a tall sex goddess. So what? You have the market cornered on sweet and adorable. People pay big dollars for a hair colour like yours. Then there’s your huge, Bambi eyes, and bitch, you have the cutest smattering of freckles across your nose. You’ll always have that youthful look about you no matter how old you are, and compared to all those hos at the bar…” she waved her shot glass around and then looked at it as though she wondered how it got there “…they look fake in comparison, with their hair extensions and orange tans. I swear to God I was watching one of them laughing just before, and her face did not move. I was f**king scared. Scared,” she repeated, jabbing her shot glass at me with emphasis before sucking it back.
I chuckled and resisted the urge to kick off my heels, tuck my legs underneath me, and get cosy. “Thanks, Luce, but you don’t need to butter me up because it won’t work. I’m staying right in this booth.”
Two large hands slapped down on the table. I followed them up and into Sean’s dark brown eyes. “Having a good night?” He smiled at the both of us, but his question was directed at me. It was probably obvious I was socially inept, so perhaps he felt sorry for me.