Page 2 of The Pursuit of Happiness
“Uh-” Ivory inserts as Beatrix snorts the last line but it’s no use. You can’t tell Beatrix Banes what to do. If we suggested she maybe not do three lines of whatever powder that was she would probably backhand us into next week. Besides, I’m willing to bet money that if you cut the lady open, her insides would be entirely made up of drugs.
Beatrix shouts, “Wooooooahh!” Before shooting out of her seat and stumbling away, getting lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor.
I huff a laugh, “Okay, bye,” I say to the empty space Beatrix just occupied. I glance back at Ivory to find her with her jaw hanging open.
“That bitch is insane,” she laughs.
“Gotta love Beatrix Banes,” I shake my head as I look around for our waitress. I already want another drink.
The petite blond returns with a tray this time. She places her tray down but I’m immediately confused when my eyes land on it; there’s no shots to be seen. The waitress reaches onto the tray and hands me a drink of clear liquid with a piece of candied rhubarb inside. I raise a brow in confusion, “What is that?” I ask.
She grins, her light eyes sparkling, “It’s a love affair,” she winks at me.
Ivory laughs and my eyes widen in shock. Is she flirting with me? “A what?” I ask as if I didn’t just hear her correctly.
She repeats, “It’s a love affair.”
I cock my head at her and purse my lips. I am many things, but a lesbian, I am not. I wish I could say I was bisexual because women are so much easier to get along with, but unfortunately I am one hundred percent straight. “Right,” I stammer. “Look,I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not interested. I’m straight,” I explain honestly.
She tilts her head at me and makes a confused expression before she seems to understand something I’m not understanding and laughs hysterically. I’d like to know what’s so funny. “Oh my God! You think I’m flirting with you!” She laughs loudly before continuing, “This isn’t from me, it’s from someone else.”
Now I’mreallyconfused. If she didn’t send me the drink then who did? “Who’s it from?” I ask, still confused.
She looks over her shoulder and points somewhere in the crowd, “Him.”
“Who?” I crane my neck to get a better look and I scoot in closer to Ivory who’s also looking for the sender of my very boldly named drink. People are so packed and crowded that I can’t get a good look for a few seconds, but then by some miracle, the bodies make a split in the middle all the way to the opposite side of the club where another VIP section that mirrors ours resides.
In the middle, seated on the opposite side of the room is a man, his booted foot up on the table and his black ripped jeans loose around his long legs. His arm rests on his raised knee and my eyes land on the plethora of patchwork tattoos that start from his fingers and trail up his arm all the way to his neck. His other arm has tattoos as well and when my eyes continue their journey upwards all the way to his face, the entire club suddenly goes silent and all the people in it disappear. As I take in his hard jaw and tousled blond hair, the smirk on his full lips, and the blue light bouncing off his perfect features, it suddenly feels like he and I are the only two people in the club. He winks at me, grinning mischievously and my lips part slightly as I lean forward in my seat, why? I have no idea.
There’s something about him that almost seems familiar, butI can’t place it. I feel like I would remember such a perfect face, such a beautiful man. I feel Ivory bump my shoulder with hers, bringing me back to the present. The man and I are suddenly no longer the only two in the room and the music is once again blaring. “Who the hell is that?” I nearly whisper, my breath seems to have vanished from my lungs from the intensity in his stare.
“That’s Slater Nicks,” the waitress answers, admiration in her voice. It seems I’m not the only one stunned by his beauty.
Ivory raises a precarious brow, “Is that supposed to mean something?”
Her question must shock the waitress so much that her head spins and her eyes widen in pure shock. Her brows pull together as if she’s concerned and she places her hand on her chest as if to calm a racing heart. “You really don’t know who he is?”
Ivory frowns, “If I did we wouldn’t have asked.”
The waitress glances over her shoulder at Slater who isstillcompletely focused on me before she turns back to Ivory. “He’s the drummer for Thunderstrike. I’m shocked you guys don’t know him. Don’t all rockstars know each other?”
Apparently not because if I knew that the gorgeous man across from me was a member of the very band that’s running against us for that Muse award, I wouldneverhave admired him so openly before. Infact, I wouldn’t even have glanced in his general direction. Call me extreme but usually when a man you’re competing against for the most prestigious award in your music genre sends you a drink in the form of a romantic innuendo, you don’t accept because it’s most likely a ploy to somehow ruin your chances of winning. I refuse to fall for it.
“No. We don’t hangout with our competition,” Ivory grumbles as she crosses her arms over her chest and scowls in Slater’s general direction. I myself refuse to look at him.
Instead, I focus on the drink he sent me. “What’s in that?” Iask the waitress in an attempt to change the subject. I’d prefer to expel all thoughts and conversations of him from this VIP section, please and motherfucking thank you.
She gives the drink a quick glance before looking back in my eyes, “Vodka, white cranberry juice, mint simple syrup, lemon juice, club soda, and rhubarb bitters.”
Either Slater Nicks did his homework on me and knows vodka is my drink of choice or it was entirely coincidental. Either way, I don’t fucking want it. “Well thanks but you can send it right back to him,” I assert contemptuously as I push the drink back toward her. Just as she grabs it and puts it back on her tray with a look that says,I can’t believe she’s returning a drink from Slater Nicks, an idea strikes me. The idea is so good and yet I only have the vodka shots I took to thank for my confidence and utter boldness. “Actually, can you do me a huge favor?” I ask as she takes a step back from our table.
She nods, “Sure, what’s up?”
“Can you send him an ‘adios, motherfucker’?” I smile so wide and devilishly my cheeks may freeze in place. It would be totally worth it.
Her eyes shoot open and her lips part in pure awe, “What?”
“Can you do it?”
