Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(63)

Candace was looking at me with a knowing smile. Not knowing what was said at the end. Her gaze at William contained not well hidden lust.

Well, apparently we made a show.

I took my beer from Candace and had a big swallow. I turned to Adam. “Okay, what happens now?”

“You two get a room?” Ty offered.

Ouch.

I laughed, ever the actor. In William’s mind, I would be paid for my services. Which meant we would not be getting a room.

“Well, apparently his effort to out-sex me wasn’t as easy as he thought.” I titled my head at William, whose face was blank again, before saluting my beer and winking.

That broke the tension.

Adam smirked, then said, “Time to be judged.”

The stairs loomed, but so did my tears. It wasn’t long before I’d be a puddle if I didn’t get myself under control. I needed to refresh.

“I’m going to hit the ladies room,” I told Candace softly.

She didn’t have time to ask if I was okay—I was already hurrying away.

I hit the restroom, did my business, straightened up my hair, and stared at myself for a second. I looked normal. Aside from the sheen of sweat, I looked the same now as when I left my house earlier that evening. I looked fine, but it felt like a razor blade had been applied to my heart.

The funny thing was, I didn’t know why I was as upset as I was. I had been trashed and turned down by a million hot guys. Some times after I spent the night with them. It was always deflating, my ego taking the biggest hit, but it never ached like this. It was like a Kung Fu master punched a hole straight through my chest, and was squeezing my heart.

As I wandered around the downstairs of the giant bar, staying to the shadows and away from all males, I contemplated my heart pain. It was weird that love was always described as being in your chest. Like gremlins got trapped inside my ribcage and were nearly done eating their way out, leaving behind them a cavernous hole that could be used for something like a fish tank, or planting a tree. In reality, heartache had nothing to do with the muscle needed for pumping my blood. Right? It was all in my head. Or my ego, which was still my head. So why did it feel like a huge pressure was sitting on my solar plexus, making me want to cry so hard I threw up blood?

It just wasn’t logical.

And all those thoughts meant I was sobering up. That the pain was just beginning.

In fact, everything hurt more—feet from these shoes, chest from the weight that was William’s rejection, head from the nearing hangover, and eyes from…God only knew what.

Alcohol to the rescue. I didn’t care that it was a terrible idea. I needed to numb the pain.

A shot later, I was chatting with some cowboy with a giant belt buckle, drinking my beer and eyeing the door. I needed my handbag. And my wrap—that thing was expensive.

“So, how about that number?”

I faced the man I was talking to, not seeing him. “Sure, I’ll go get it.”

Off I went, in search of my elusive phone number, no idea where I was going. Which really meant there was only one option. I had to face the ass**le. But first, maybe a dance.

Luckily, the numbing haze was returning. Gremlins were going to sleep. The shot punched the Kung Fu master in the nose, so he buggered off, and the music was taking over for my heart. Good times.

Once I hit the dance floor, beer in hand, the world was my oyster. I picked guys at random, dancing as hard as I could without spilling my beer, and getting lost in it. When one buy got irritating, I switched. I had plenty of options, and I officially became that girl.

Sometime later I had danced with nearly everyone in the world, two at a time occasionally—girls, boys, it didn’t matter—and needed a refill. Since I didn’t have any money on me, or my handbag, I had to go back to ass**le-ville.

“Dang it—get off!”

Pushing my way through man bodies, I made it to the stairs. Except I was on the wrong side.

“Well, shoot.”

Hand on the railing, I went up, one step at a time. It was a long trip, thanks to these damn heels. They were really cute, though. Totally made the outfit. And my legs looked awesome.

Up on the wrong side of the tracks they didn’t know me. The bouncer kept asking where I thought I was going, this was the VIP area.

“Sir,” I reasoned. “I realize you don’t know me from Gertrud’s mother, but I am trying to go there.” I pointed to our booth across the giant expanse of air. “You see? The guys looking down? Those guys. I am with those guys.”

He looked at me like I was a drunk girl that didn’t know what she was talking about.

Oh wait...Yeah, he was looking at me correctly. I didn’t even know if this side went all the way around to the back.

Still, he was going to feel really stupid when Apollo smote him on the spot.

“Gremlins,” I said to know one in particular.

“Sorry ma’am, you have to go back now.”

“Look, Sir Bouncer, if I go back, that means I have to go down those damn stairs and I am liable to kill myself. Then I have to go up the other staircase, and if I don’t kill myself going down, I will certainly kill myself going up. And that, my large, muscled friend, is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

He just shook his head.

I sighed loudly. “Okay, what will it take to convince you that I do actually have a table over there? How can I get past this road block? I mean, my beer is almost done, my feet hurt—my handbag and everything are over there.”