A Wild Ride (Jessica Brodie Diaries #3)(64)

“How long did it take to plan this out?” I asked as we waited.

“Ah...well...”

“Give it up, Davies.”

“Honestly... I was the idea man. The assistants put the plan into motion.”

“Uh huh.”

We headed to the waiting town car. Once inside I cuddled up next to my man. After the door was closed he pulled me closer.

“I do love you, you know,” he said softly in my ear.

“Oh really? Is that what this big rock means?”

“Is it too big?”

I looked at the ring again. I had been glancing at it constantly. At first I was so excited by the design and the fact that he was proposing that I didn’t notice the extent of the sparkle. Now, however...

“Yiks.” It was probably two ct. and the cut and color were remarkable. I had a feeling the clarity was also above par.

“Yeah, I intended to get one smaller, but the ever-nagging voice of my mother was in my ear.”

“Go big or go home, right?”

He laughed. “The Texas way.”

“But...what do you mean the voice of your mother?”

“Oh. She says a diamond on a woman’s finger is a status symbol. People will be looking at it and comparing it with your monetary value. Being that you’re in my family now—“ His eyes got so mushy that if I squeezed them I’d get a glass full of love, ”—I was told, under no uncertain terms, that I would do our family proud and give you something to show off.”

“Huh. She doesn’t know me all that well.”

“It’s not about knowing you, it’s about impressing her friends. And while I’ve never really bought into that where you are concerned, I figured you didn’t want her making snide comments for the rest of her life.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Also, it is beautiful, so I ain’t complainin’.”

He laughed, “Ain’t, huh?”

The car stopped outside a large building with lights and people.

“Wait,” I said as the door opened and William got out. He put his hand back in to escort me out as well.

We were in front of a hip San Francisco club with a line down the block. I climbed out into the crisp night air. Only San Francisco could be crisp in the summer. Well, and Alaska.

“You didn’t think I would keep your beauty to myself tonight, did you? I want every man to envy me my bride to be.”

“It’s good to be King.”

“Hey, that’s my line!” he said with a smile that couldn’t light up his face enough to match the twinkling of his eyes.

Was this real? Is this what all women felt when they got engaged?

William led me to the door and stepped arrogantly in front of the line. No one complained.

“Two for Davies,” he said curtly.

He never acted this way at Froggy’s. But then, Froggy’s had nothing on this place. Ruby something it was called. Apparently a happening spot for the young and beautiful, judging by the overly made up beauties waiting patiently outside. It was a terrible place to get a guy for keeps, but a great place to flirt and maybe get a guy for the night, depending on the level of drunk. I was going to have one guy for the rest of my life.

But I already decided I wanted that.

But one guy. One penis. One set of tools. One set of comfort levels.

But a really hot one. A really good set of tools. A willingness to explore his level of comfort.

Yeah, I made the right choice! I was so excited.

Focus!

The door man looked at his list and gestured us through. Through the doorway and we were accosted by a really large, really effeminate black man in his late twenties. My God but he was big. Six-foot-four at least. Big like a truck; muscles all over the place. Looked like a Running Back. Gay as a spring day.

“Heeeelllllooooooo!” he called, mostly to William, who he looked up and down without reservation.

William blushed furiously and mumbled, “Hi.” His arrogance was long gone.

I started to chuckle.

He stamped William’s hand with a lingering look. He turned to me next.

“Giiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrl, look at you!”

I smiled proudly and gave him a little swish to show off my dress. You were never as appreciated as with a g*y man. They really made you feel hot and sexy without being slutty. I loved the whole breed! But then, who wouldn’t love someone telling you that you looked fabulous, and wholeheartedly meaning it without trying to stab you in the back directly after?

Beware looking like shit, though. Same rules.

“That dress is...” He shook his head and waved at me. “I need your tailor, girlfriend. I need your damn tailor! Send him my way!”

“What? You think I need competition?” I held up my nose.

He laughed in big guffaws and opened the door. I patted him on his huge shoulder and walked in. I wasn’t sure, but William might have gotten a little pat on the back. Or butt. He tensed up a little as he followed.

Welcome to chic San Francisco. The g*y men knew this scene back and forth and I was excited to be in a such a liberal culture. It was such a pleasant relief from the conservative culture I was living in. It was looser than L.A. It was faster, too. But it was more laid back, somehow. People here were fashion conscious, but they also dared to be different. People cared what other people thought, but only up to a certain point. Everywhere you looked there was a new style. Someone’s own style. Hippie-chic.