Sweet Sinful Nights(25)

A few more laughs.

“So I’m just going to dip myself in chocolate, head to toe, and give her me. Covered in chocolate. For her to lick off.”

He held his breath as he tested out this new material for the first time. A ripple of laughter began, but there was still the punch line to deliver.

“But then I realized, that’s not really a gift for her. That’s a gift for me.”

Laughter rang out across the club. There were few sounds better than this—better than the sweet laughter of a joke well told. It was the great exhalation—it was relief and buoyancy all at once.

But then, it wasn’t a joke. He did need to prove himself to Shannon, and if she somehow happened to see this set, he was certain she’d know it was part of the big grovel, as Mindy had so aptly put it.

“So, yeah. Maybe not chocolate,” he said, then continued on for another ten minutes, finishing up his set. When he was through, he joined his brother and his wife in the audience during a short break between acts. Julia clapped proudly as he walked over, then wrapped her arms around him in a big hug. “As always, you were magnificent,” she said.

“I’m just sorry you didn’t wind up with the funny brother,” Brent said, adopting a frown.

“Shame she didn’t get the funny-looking one, isn’t it?” Clay said, deadpan.

Julia smiled and laughed. “You two are crazy. I know you were both lady-killers back in high school. All the Nichols men are fine-looking specimens,” she said, then patted Clay’s leg and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

Brent latched onto two words. He stared at her sharply. “High school? You think we stopped after high school?”

“Fine, fine. College, law school, and beyond,” she added, then dropped her chin into her hands. “But seriously. What are we going to do about your little problem?”

He furrowed his brow. “What little problem?”

She gestured to the stage as an answer.

Clay chimed in. “Do you think you fooled us?”

Brent snapped his fingers. “Damn. You guessed it. I really am going to dip myself in chocolate. Should I do dark or milk chocolate, though? That’s the million-dollar question.”

Julia swatted him. “Brent! Seriously. Your lady problem.”

“What lady problem?”

“You know you can’t trick her, man. Might as well own up to it,” Clay said, leaning back in his chair, parking his hands behind his head.

Brent laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, you got me. You saw straight through my routine.”

“I know that, sweetie,” Julia said, flashing a small smile. “But let me give you some advice. Whoever this woman is, she doesn’t want you to solve the relationship problem by dipping yourself in chocolate, as cute as you may be.”

Brent sighed, then laid out the story for his brother and his wife. “I’ve clearly got to big gesture the hell out of it. What do I do?”

Julia answered immediately. “The answer is simple. You need to focus on what matters to her. How can you show her how important she is to you? Where did you fail in the past in that regard?”

Brent scoffed. “That’s gonna be a long list.”

“Then take it item by item, step by step, and follow her cues.”

Clay pointed his thumb at his wife. “She knows what she’s talking about. Listen to the one and only Mrs. Nichols,” he said, and those words dug into Brent’s chest like a rusty shovel. He was thrilled that Julia and Clay were so happy together, but Shannon was supposed to have been the first Mrs. Nichols. She was supposed to have been his wife ten years ago. Now, she was simply a woman he’d had one dirty encounter with in his nightclub. He was at square one with her for all intents and purposes. Saying he was sorry yesterday was the barest beginning of trying to win her heart, and now he had to move past apologies and show her why she should want him.

After Clay and Julia went home, Brent made his way to the bar to catch up with Bob, who was pouring from the tap for another customer. “What does it take to get a beer around here?”

The man looked up and said dryly, “Evidently, it takes a chain restaurant.”

“No shit. But hey, you’ll be handling cosmos and top-shelf liquor in no time.”

Bob gave him a quick salute, then handed out the drink. When he returned, he poured him a beer, then clinked an imaginary glass to Brent’s. “Here’s to the next phase—cosmos and fancy-ass drinks at your new club.”

“And to landlords who aren’t *s,” Brent said, raising his glass.

“Amen.” Bob rapped his knuckles on the counter. “I’ll miss this place.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Later, Brent hailed a cab and headed to his midtown hotel. As the cab ambled through traffic, he unlocked the screen on his phone, and opened up a new text message to Shannon. Keep it simple—keep it direct. That was what he’d do.

I’m in New York... thinking of you... can I see you when I return this weekend?

In seconds she replied.

I don’t know. Can you?

Oh, she was feisty tonight, toying with word choice. He responded with a:

May I?

As the cab rolled past the Port Authority and the neon lights and tourist traps on 42nd Street, her reply arrived.