Chapter Thirty-Four
Justin
“Trapqueen”- Collin McLoughlin
My head’sbanging with a migraine at the after party, so it only makes sense that I down the shot Jarod just passed me. “Thanks,” I say.
He slaps me on the back. “Don’t mention it, bro. Too bad about Talon, huh?”
“Ah, he was a fuckwad anyway.”
“Shit, Wild, that girl in the blue dress yours?” Jarod points across the room at Marisa whose laughing with a group of readers.
“Yeah.”
“Fucking hot. Jesus.” He chuckles as he flags the bartender down again. “I bet Tori is pissed. You know she was in love with your sorry ass.”
I shrug, my gaze locked on Marisa, my mind jumbling with what ifs. “It doesn’t take much to make them fall, you know?”
“Nah, I guess not when you can shoot shit out of your ass that sounds like Shakespeare.” He punches my arm.
I shrug, and I’m still eyeing Marisa from across the room. I like watching her like this, from afar. Pretending she’s something I can’t have. Playing out all the scenarios of how I could get her, chase her, claim her. Fucked up, I know, but, I am a romance author. And when you really think about it, the storyisall about the chase. The push and pull, the will they or won’t they. Maybe that’s what’s fucked me up—hell, maybe that’s what’s fucked us all up. The Hemmingways and Brontes... Hollywood, the rouse of the love story. Noble and Just. Instalove that rarely falters and never ages. The plots that end before everything gets utterly tarnished and beyond repair. Humans chase love, which is why my books are devoured like Thanksgiving dinner. It’s the chase, not the actual love that’s addicting. Fuck... I need some more Fireball.
Jarod hands me two more shots. We toast and down them one right after the other. “Alright, man,” he says, pulling his phone in front of his face. “Facebook live time.”
“Ah, come on, dude. I don’t want to... ” But it’s too late. His phone’s already counting down until we’re live. 3.2.1.
“Waz’zup, bitches,” he slurs, holding two of his fingers up and thrusting his tongue through them in the international “eating pussy” symbol. “I’m here with my main man, Justin-fucking-Wild. You ladies know who he is, c’mon, c’mon, you know you do... ” He pauses and I watch the number of viewers ticking up. Twelve. Twenty-six. Fifty-five... “Ah, hey, Patti. Hey Deborah. Misty... ” he points at his screen and laughs at the comment some girl posted volunteering a threesome. “A threesome. I don’t know, Wild,” he says, glancing at me. “Would you be down?”
I stare at the screen. The comments are pouring in so fast, I can’t even read them now. “I mean... I think they’re overrated,” I say, my gaze flicking over to Marisa.
“Justin,” Tori’s voice echoes through the bar. “Oh, lover boy... ”
Jarod snickers and I spin around. “Oh shit.” Jarod laughs and aims his camera at the winding stairwell that leads to the VIP area. Tori’s perched at the top of the silver banister, straddling it with her dress hiked up around her tan thighs. She waves and blows a kiss in my direction. The entire bar is buzzing with whispers and giggles.
“What the hell is she doing?” Jarod mumbles.
“I don’t fucking know... ”Cockstruck...
“I just want everyone here to know,” Tori slurs, raising a glass of wine in the air. Some of the golden liquid sloshes over the rim of her glass. “I fucked Justin Wild, and... ” she hiccups, “his dick isn’t even that impressive.”
Giggles flit around the room. And my face heats. Before I know it, I feel a warm hand wrap around my arm. I glance to the side and find Marisa standing next to me, face red, nostrils flaring. “What the hell?” she asks.
All I can do is shrug and turn back to watch whatever clusterfuck is about to unfold.
“He’s a lying slut, and so, to all the bitches who got fucked over by the waste of space—” She dumps her wine out on the carpet.
Jarod nudges me, “She’s pouring one out for her ‘whore’mies.” He snickers and I groan.
“Fuck you, Justin Wild, and fuck Marisa, too.” And then Tori slides down the banister, skin screeching against the metal. When she reaches the bottom, she topples off with a thud onto the marble floor. Her friends clamor to help her to her feet and escort her out into the lobby.
“Jesus, Justin. You seriously stuck your dick in that?” Marisa groans, taking the shot Jarod is shoving in her face.
I shrug. “I was... drunk?”
Marisa rolls her eyes. Jarod laughs, clapping his hand on my shoulder as he hands me another, much needed Fireball.
“And there you have it people of the page, Justin Wild is a motherfucker player.” He glances at Marisa and you can practically see the steam swirling from the top of her head. “I mean, sorry,wasa motherfucking player.” He taps over the screen before shoving the phone inside his pocket and holding out his hand to Marisa. “I’m Jarod, heard a lot about you from Wild here.”
