Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(49)

He backed off, getting the hint. Or maybe getting knocked out of the mood. Slowly he nodded and turned toward the steering wheel. “That could work.”

I could tell he wasn’t enthused about it, but he was playing it cool. I was relieved because the atmosphere in the car was getting too intense. I was starting to get nervous, memories uncomfortably looming in my thoughts, and needed to keep things light. At least until I got to know him.

“Are you okay?” he asked me, looking concerned. Probably reading the tight expression.

I smiled hesitantly. “Yeah, sorry. Yeah, I am. I just had kind of a crazy experience a couple weeks ago and I am still working through it. Nothing to do with you.”

“I heard about that. Well, the generalities…”

“Oh, yeah. Well, anyway, um, let’s hit Froggy's, okay? Candace just text.”

His eyes lingered on mine, wanting the full story, but thankfully, mercilessly, let it go.

We pulled up to an expansive parking lot a quarter full. Granted, it was early, and the parking lot was beyond enormous, but with the size of the building, it seemed like there should’ve been more people.

Randall pulled into a space, put the car in park, and gulped. “We’re here.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fun.”

Before I knew it he leaned in to kiss me. My heart pounded from the suddenness of it, but his lips were smooth and soft and most of all, non-threatening. I let the touch of our lips linger, until he tried to heighten the contact. Without finesse, and with his tongue trying to get into my mouth, it was time to back-the-f*ck-off.

So I did.

“Okay,” he said, pleased with the outcome.

I almost felt like being that kid that makes a huge show of wiping her mouth with her arm and saying, “Yech!”

As we walked to the front door, he asked, “How did you like the meal?”

“It wasn’t bad. Chili’s is usually about the same anywhere you go.”

“True. That’s what I like about it. I moved around so much that nothing really seemed constant. The one thing that was always the same was Chili’s. That Chili’s burger, to be precise. I kind of latched onto it, I guess. I’m sure it isn’t the best food out there, but it’s comfort food for me, so I like it.”

Ah. It was sentimental. He was sentimental. That was sweet. My outlook changed. Not enough to dive at him with my mouth open, but I’d give him more leeway when he tried again. Probably.

As we walked under the green, fluorescent frog that could give Vegas a run for its money, I saw the red carpet leading to a bouncer. There was already a line, but Candace said there was a list, and we were on it. I went straight to the front.

“This is kind of a big crowd,” Randall muttered uncomfortably.

“Randall, love, we are on the list. We don’t worry about crowds!”

This was going to my head a little, I’ll admit, but I totally looked better than the other girls in line!

The giant bouncer looked up as I planted my strappy sandaled heels in front of him. My smile was sexy, my look was perfect, and my hip was thrown. I was ready for the club.

“There’s a line," he snarled. The man was big, in charge, been doing this a while based on his tone, and used to girls approaching to skirt the line. But as Ty and crew would say, “This wasn’t my first rodeo!” I knew I didn’t need to wait. And I didn’t plan to.

“We should be on the list. Jessica Brodie…” I flashed him my sexy, smoldering smile, just in case Candace was mistaken.

All business, he scanned his slip of paper, then nodded. Two wristbands were procured and fastened to our outstretched wrists. Without a word, Mr. Macho turned in his cheap suit and opened the door for us. Enter.

“Well, he thought he was holier-than-thou, huh?” Randall muttered, slinking in behind me.

“That’s just how it’s done. His first line of defense is intimidation. It means less work in the long run.”

After the narrow tunnel of doorway, in which we flashed our right to drink in the form of a license, there was a small entryway that opened out into an area with a bar on the right and some tall tables to the left. There was a wide berth directly through the middle for those not planning to stop at the bar.

I took a moment to get my bearings. It was always an important step while still sober. After the drinks were flowing and strangers became long-time friends, you ended up in random spots that you then had to navigate out of. Already having the layout lodged in your sober brain, which I always managed to call up somehow, was a time saver.

After I was pretty set, we moved on, my eyes always roaming so I could assess the digs. The bar area looked like a Las Vegas lounge in the 1970’s, with browns and oranges and retro decorations—and I didn’t mean retro as in, old style but new stuff and super hip—the place was in bad need of renovation. The ceiling was low, the tables dingy, and the bar needed to be re-lacquered. Still, it had alcohol behind it, so I figured we would stop for a beer so we didn’t look stupid wandering around looking for Candace without a prop. We might as well wander through screaming that we were lost!

“Let’s get a beer!” I yelled over the noise and distant music to my date, who was hunched and sunken, imploding.

“What?” he shouted back, looking at the bar and its patrons like they had just landed from another planet.