“You’re welcome,” she says gruffly before she starts to shut her door. “And, ah, thanks for letting me know the sick bastards are dead.”
“You’re welcome,” I say with a smile. “Take care of yourself, Sandy.”
Chapter Sixteen
Verek
* * *
Six months later…
* * *
For months now I’ve been living in Miami, Florida, where the nightlife is always thriving, even in the fall and winter.
I’ve been working as a bouncer, bartender, and everything in-between trying to make enough cash to keep paying rent for my tiny apartment here and my town house in Myrtle Beach without dipping into my savings account. All while waiting not so patiently to get a call, telling me I can finally come home.
There are women everywhere, but I haven’t touched a single one of them. The only face I want to see when I look at them is Tessa’s.
I haven’t called her or sent a single message since the night I left town, and not just because Roman told me not to. Part of me, the guilty part that feels responsible for her kidnapping, thinks he could be right. While I’ve been gone, Tessa could have married Paul or at least gotten back together with him. I can’t and won’t ever forget about her, but I hope she’s forgotten about me. She’ll be better off if so.
The Paul guy seems…decent, what little I saw of him. He would love Tessa and care for her, be loyal to her, while I’m not sure I could ever deserve her after what I did that night. I shouldn’t have pushed her when I knew she was engaged and about to be married.
I’m not sure how she could forgive me for that night when I can’t forgive myself. But since the beginning, she’s never mentioned it – the reason why she left the club without her friends in the first place, or what I did after she left.
I check my cell phone for any missed calls as soon as I get back to my studio apartment after a long night of work, but there are no calls from anyone, just like usual. A normal person would probably just give up, move on with their life. Start over.
My life is still back in Myrtle Beach, though. I’m going back one of these days, even if I have to wait forever for Roman to get over his shit. I wouldn’t care if Tessa was with someone else or never able to bear my touch, as long as I knew she was okay. Getting to see her every day would be the icing on the cake, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Maybe I won’t be too late…
Fuck. I’m torn between wanting to be too late and hoping she hasn’t moved on because I’m a selfish asshole, just like the man who raised me.
Flopping down face-first on my pull-out sofa bed, I close my eyes and try to dream of her, afraid I’m going to start forgetting what she looks like. But the image in my head is still crystal clear – gorgeous red hair, stunning green eyes, porcelain skin, a sad smile on her perfect lips. Lips that I can still feel on my shoulder and moving down my spine…
My trip down memory lane is interrupted thanks to a heavy knock on my door.
There’s only one person it could be at this time of night. Even if I ignore them, they’ll never just give up and go away since my bike is in the parking lot.
Gathering up the energy I don’t have for this bullshit, I roll off the bed, getting to my feet to stagger over and answer the door.
I check the peephole for confirmation before groaning to myself. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”
Undoing the chain and dead bolt, I finally yank the door open and come face-to-face with two beautiful, twentysomething blondes, one in a bright yellow dress and the other in lime. Neither article of clothing cover more than a string bikini. And then there’s the man twice their age standing between them with a head full of powder-white, perfectly combed hair, wearing a cheap, navy blue suit.
“Good, you’re still awake!” my father says in greeting. He probably thinks I showed up in Miami because he lives here, not because I needed a full-time job at a club in the off-season. It is nice to know at least one other person in town, but I would never go to work for him or spend much time with him. He thinks he’s the Hugh Hefner of strip clubs, and frankly it’s just gross.
“Ooh, baby, he’s even yummier than you promised,” the blonde on the right in the green dress says.
“The kid is me, twenty years ago!” he brags. “Of course he’s yummy!”
Oh for fuck’s sake.
“I just got home, and I’m about to go to sleep,” I mumble as I scrub my palms over my face in frustration.
“You’re joking, right! You’re young and single. You should be living it up before you need a little blue pill to do it for you!” he says with a grin. The blondes laugh right on cue as if they’re being paid to pretend to enjoy his stupid jokes. They probably are.
“I’m really not in the mood for this. Pimp your girls out somewhere else, Dad,” I tell him.
“You’re not still pining away for that same girl, are you? It’s been half a goddamn year.” my father says in disbelief. “Spend the week with Peaches and Cream here, and I guarantee you won’t be able to remember what she looks like!” He places his hand on the women’s lower backs and shoves them into my tiny apartment before following them, making me grit my teeth, especially when the one in the yellow dress lies down on her stomach on the foot of my bed, showing me she’s not wearing a single thing underneath.
Of course, my father thinks I could just fuck a woman out of my head. He’s never loved anyone but himself, especially not the woman who gave birth to me when she was just eighteen, stripping for him and sleeping with him on the side like all the other girls in his club. At least Benjamin Rhodes was kind enough to suck it up and raise me rather than let her put me up for adoption. It wasn’t exactly a normal upbringing, but I had a roof over my head, even if it was one with poles, a stage, neon lights, and music blaring every night. At least there was all the food I could eat anytime I wanted thanks to the club’s buffet.
The guys I went to school with all wanted to be my best friend to try and get into the club for a peek at a topless woman, while I had seen more naked women up close and personal by the time I started kindergarten than most men do in their entire lifetime. As a little kid, I remember I used to pretend that I was lucky and had ten mommies when I knew I really didn’t even have one.
Eventually, I grew up, left town right after high school, and then prospected for the Savage Kings and started managing my own club, taking home a different girl most nights.
I became my worst nightmare – my father.
That thought never bothered me before the night I met Tessa.
Now I don’t want to be anything like the man who raised me.
What if it’s too late and I’m screwed thanks to genetics and the fucked-up environment I was raised in? It’s been six months and I haven’t screwed anyone else, but what if I snap at the one-year mark and suddenly can’t be celibate anymore? Any day now I could fuck up and go back to being the man I hate.
No, hate is a strong word. I love my father, but I hate that his lifestyle is so…disturbingly nasty.
“Please go home,” I tell him. I brace my hands on my hips while he helps himself to my fridge, and the other blonde hops up on the kitchen counter, her bare ass sitting right where I make food. “And take them with you!”