“Does he know that?”
“Yes, mom. He knows.”
“Maybe it should be more.” She suggests. “You deserve happiness.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“I don’t think you’ll ever be ready if you don’t push yourself. You were happy once. You can get there again.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She shakes her head disappointedly as she wipes down the bar, then says, “I’ve got to get back to my tables. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I mean it, Sara. I won’t fuck this job up for you.”
“It’s not the job I’m worried about. It’s you that has me concerned.”
“You’re one to talk.” I deflect, but realize my mistake when her face falls.
“My husband left me a month ago. I don’t know where he is or if he’s coming back. We had years together, Archer. Years,” she bites out through clenched teeth. Her eyes well with tears, making me feel like the asshole I am.
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just mean, you should get out. Find some friends. Do something for yourself besides sleep.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you. Please just go and have fun. I’ll see you later.” She takes a calming breath and walks over to a table of customers.
I chug my drink, mentally kicking my own ass. I don’t know how to talk to her. Every time I mention how depressed she seems, she snaps at me. She’s withdrawing from life more and more. She’s short with the kids, which makes them sad. The atmosphere in the house is full of doom and gloom, and I don’t know how to fix it. Especially when I’m a contributing factor.
I leave without saying another word, walking the few steps next door. The second the door opens, I’m hit by the rumbling bass of the music. A large man stands at the door, shirtless, behind a podium. He lift his chin at me.
“There’s a ten-dollar cover,” he advises me. I reach into my pocket, but before I can hand over the cash, Kian is rushing from behind two thick black curtains that separate the entrance from the club.
“It’s cool, Steve. He’s a guest.” Kian smiles hugely at me. My mouth waters at his appearance. He’s wearing a tight tan T-shirt that shows just how trim his chest and arms are and tan plaid trousers that are just as fitted and hug his package like a glove. For a slight man, he’s either stuffing or he’s endowed.
Fuck. I miss sex.
“Hey,” I say.
“You look good. I love this.” He tugs on the end of my vest.
“It’s new.”
His eyes widen. “Please tell me you went to Belle’s.”
“I did.”
“Oh my God, I’ll bet she loved you. That dirty old woman.” He chuckles and pulls back the curtains. “Come on in. I saved us a booth.”
I step through and take in the space. The club is small, lined with booths along the perimeter except for one side that has a long bar stretched down its length. Behind the bar are backlit panes of neon-colored glass that illuminate the bottles of liquor that sit on the shelves. Simple black stools line a shiny black bar with the same backlit panels of neon glass. Strobe lights blast flashes of neon-colored lights and a barely-there fog floats around the dance floor in the center of the room. An electronic mix of Madonna’s, “Like a Virgin” plays loudly.
I lean into Kian and say, “This is cool. I love it.”
He beams at me. “Thank you. I love Focus, but this is my pride and joy. Follow me.”
We make a stop at the bar where he orders some kind of pink bubbly champagne with floating fruit for himself and a whiskey ginger for me. He remembered my drink. Then I follow him over to a booth with a comfy padded bench. He takes one side and I take the other.
I people watch for a minute, taking in the dancing crowd. It’s not packed, but there’s enough people that you could be on the dance floor without feeling self-conscious. It’s mostly men, but there are a few groups of girls, too. They all look so free, like the world isn’t a shithole for them. I remember that feeling.
Kian says something, but I can’t hear him over the music. I hold a hand to my ear in the international sign for I can’t hear you. I lean in, but I still don’t catch what he says. He rolls his eyes and moves over to my side of the booth.
“That’s better,” he shouts. “You must be losing your hearing in your old age.”
“Hey, a couple days ago you were telling me I wasn’t old.”
“That was before I knew you needed a hearing aid.” He smirks.
“You won’t be saying that when you see my moves.”
“Oh really? You ready to show me those moves?” His eyebrow quirks challengingly.
I lift my drink to my lips and throw it back. It goes down easy and I motion for him to get up from the booth. He grabs my hand and tugs me to the center of the floor. Everyone we pass gives Kian a greeting ranging from a hug to a kiss on the cheek. He seems to know everyone personally, especially the men. A pang of something hits my gut. I don’t like it. I wonder how many of these men he’s slept with. It’s none of my business and I don’t ask. It’s just petty curiosity.
When he’s done saying hi to everyone, he faces me fully and motions up and down my body. “I’m ready.”
I shift from side to side, feeling dumb. I give up the ruse and lean into him. “I was lying. I don’t dance. I thought I could figure it out, but I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He laughs. “Well, guess you’re about to get a lesson.”
Kian moves with the music, rolling his hips provocatively. His hands roam around his body from his neck, down his chest and around his hips. It’s sexy as fuck. I completely forget he’s trying to teach me and just watch him. He’s so at ease with his movement. Like with everything he does, he exudes confidence.
“Your turn,” he shouts, pointing at me.
Awkwardly, I sway to what I think is the beat. Kian looks like a mix between amused and horrified. I freeze, not wanting to embarrass myself. I move to walk off the floor, but Kian stops me with a hand to my forearm.
“Come here,” he says. I allow him to pull me close, his hands resting on my hips. We aren’t touching, but almost. I feel the heat coming from his body, smell his sweetly spiced cologne, and see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Follow what I do.”
His hips move in a figure eight and he guides me to do the same. I still feel dumb with my arms hanging limply at my side, so I place them on his shoulders. He works himself closer until our pelvises are pressed together. I pray I don’t get a hard-on. It’s been too long since I’ve been this close to anyone.
“That’s good. Now try this.” He bends at the knees and rolls his body until he’s upright again. This doesn’t seem like something I should try for the first time with an audience, but the drinks have loosened me up, so I give it a try. Kian bites his lower lip and drags his teeth slowly across the flesh in a move so sexy, I lose my balance. I take a step back before I fall over.
I rock from side to side and watch as he goes all out with his movements. He could be on a stage with his facial expressions and the way he moves his body. He’s beautiful and sexual and fucking enticing. The way his hips thrust and his torso rolls. Kian is a goddamn visual orgasm.