“Baby, what about me? I want some of you too.” The woman with the glassy eyes who’d just been finger fucking herself in front of me bit her lips in an attempt to be sexy. It was disgusting.
“Get the fuck off me.” I glared at her.
“You don’t have to be an ass about it, Cassian. We’re all here to have a good time. Stay a bit longer. You look like you need to take some more of the edge off.”
I looked at the man like he was crazy. It was the same guy I’d just punched in the face not twenty minutes earlier. “I don’t need to do shit.”
He put his hands up in surrender while his eyes darted around the room in suspicion. Fucking junkies, I hated them. I hated that no matter what I did, I always found myself in their company.
I pulled the condom off my cock and got rid of it before I fixed myself. Suddenly, I felt trapped, I could’ve easily kicked everyone out, but I just wanted to be out of there. I pushed my way out of the door again, not caring the security guard was right there, and I could have potentially hurt him. If he was in my fucking way, he deserved whatever the fuck happened to him.
There was a grunt behind the door as I strolled out, and I could see the way the man glared at me as I walked right by him without so much as an apology or acknowledgment. I made my way back over to the bar and tried to grab another bottle of whiskey, vodka, or whatever was closest.
“Hey, you!” I yelled over the loudness of the crowd and waited for the bartender to come to me. It seemed like he was going to stop and help another customer. “Now!” I yelled just in case he was thinking about doing just that.
He walked over to me quickly, a scornful look on his face. “You? Do you seriously not know my name?” He yelled at me over the music.
“Why the fuck would I know your name?”
“You dated my sister.”
I closed my eyes for a second, trying to remember what he was talking about, but I felt my body sway. Fuck that; I didn’t care.
“I’m pretty sure she was just a gash for me to get my dick wet. Give me my fucking drink.”
His chest puffed up slightly, “Watch how you talk about my fucking sister.”
“Or what? Are you going to beat my ass? I’d love to see you try.” I leaned forward on the bar, trying to get as close to his face as I could. “Maybe you wanna quit? As if that would make one bit of difference to me. You and your sister don’t mean a goddamn thing to me, so shut the fuck up and give me my fucking bottle.”
I watched the man let out a defeated breath and reach down for a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“No, I don’t want that bullshit. Give me the Johnnie Walker Blue.” I tried to point but had to slap my hand down on the bar to keep me from tipping over. He walked over to where the expensive bottle was and removed it from the shelf.
“Hurry the fuck up. I don’t have all day.” I put my hand out and waited for him to put the cool glass bottle in it. Once he did, it felt like I couldn’t get out of that place fast enough. I opened the bottle and took a nice long swig. Shit always felt better after I had a drink.
“Mr. LeJeune?” The valet came closer to me as I almost fell to the ground as I made it out of the club. It was so hot in there, and as the cool air of the night sky hit my face, waves of nausea swept through my body.
I hunched over, praying to God I’d throw up, knowing I’d feel better once I did. For the first time in a long time, he answered my prayers. My insides lurched forward, and my stomach's contents erupted violently from my mouth onto the pavement. I threw up for what felt like hours before I was able to stand back up.
“Here, you are, Mr. Lejeune.” The valet tried to hand me a paper towel, but I didn’t want his fucking pity.
I spat the remainder of the vomit in my mouth right next to his foot, small particles splashing up and landing on his shoe. “The fuck am I going to do with that? Go and get my goddamn car. What’s the point of having a valet if they can’t do their fucking job?”
He jumped back in surprise before he put his paper towel back into his pocket and turned around to get my keys from the valet stand. Lifting the bottle of whiskey, I took another long swallow. Johnnie Walker Blue was some of the smoothest whiskey I’d ever tasted. At almost four hundred dollars a bottle, it was money well spent.
My eyes didn’t seem to want to focus tonight. I tried to keep them open as I waited for the incompetent valet to return, but the longer I tried to look straight ahead, the more my eyes decided to roll. I was just tired, and I’d crash as soon as I got home.
“Mr. LeJeune? Are you sure that you’re ok to drive? I can call you a car service?” The valet was suddenly standing right in front of me, and my car was parked at the curb.
“What the fuck? I’m fine.” With the last of my strength, I got my ass up off the ground. Huh, I don’t even remember sitting down. The stress from dealing with the bullshit at the company was exhausting, and I must have passed out. I needed to have some quality me-time.
“Mr. LeJeune…” The man tried to stop me.
I grabbed him roughly by the collar of his over starched shirt. “You keep saying my fucking name, so it’s obvious you know who the fuck I am. If I say I’m fine, then do not fucking question me. Give me my fucking car keys and move the fuck out of the way.”
The man grabbed my hand holding his collar like he was trying to free himself, but I could feel the trembling in his fingertips. He was scared. “Yes, sir.”
“Great, now move.” I released him, and he stumbled back. What should have taken me a few seconds to get to my car ended up taking me close to a minute as I was so off-balance. When I finally got to the car door, struggling to get in, the valet spoke again.
“Mr. LeJeune, I must insist, you’re in no condition to drive tonight.”
The balls on this man, I smiled. He was someone I should have on my team, and he obviously wasn’t afraid to go against what I wanted. Unfortunately, I didn’t want him on my team today. “I warned you once already tonight; now I have to take action. Get your shit and get the hell off my property. You’re fired.” The man gasped and moved back from me, clearly not expecting me to fire him for doing what was supposed to be his job. If one of the club patrons appeared to be intoxicated by either drugs or alcohol, he was supposed to stop them from driving. Those were the rules, and those rules applied to everyone else but me. I had my own set of rules, and he was not playing by them.
“You can’t.”
“Yes, I fucking can, and I just did. Now get the fuck out of my way.” I shoved him back away from my car and did my best to get in and get settled behind the wheel. The bottle of Johnnie Walker went on the passenger seat, and I reached into the center console for a small bottle of water I kept there and downed it in one go. It was only about four miles to my home, I’d be there in no time, and then I could get to sleep. As I peeled away from the curb, I took a second to look in the rear-view mirror and watch the man who used to be the valet to my club rip his vest off and throw it to the ground. Something about that made me laugh. I laughed and laughed all the way home.
Chapter Three
“It’s not denial. I’m just selective about the reality I accept.”