Page 10 of His Obsession
“Yeah?” he said.
“Have a bottle ready.” I would end this night with my favorite bottle of scotch or my knuckles bloody and bruised. Both had a mighty wonderful ring to it.
“Everything okay?” I’d say concern wouldn’t be the word I would use for Tonk’s tone. He was all business, it was,is-there-something-I-need-to-take-care-ofkind of voice.
“It’s fine.” I couldn’t give him more information. It would be excessive for him, and he would hate me for it later. Not because he had a problem with what I was doing, but because Tonk didn’t care for unnecessary details. He said it only cluttered his brain.
I hung up and pressed the acceleration. I needed to clear my head, raise my adrenaline, do something dangerous but not risky. The interstate wasn’t far from my location; I set my sights on its long straight lanes with barely anyone on them and sped away. Clocking my car at one-fifty, I weaved in and out of semis and compact cars, narrowly missing a minivan. Ten miles down the road, the exit appeared on my right.Slow down, my brain screamed at me.
I knew I was taking the exit faster than I should have, but the peril was worth the endorphins. My heart pounded against my chest. It raced faster and faster, just like my car going down the highway. My chest rising and falling in quick succession, the extra oxygen flooded my senses, making my brain float like helium.
My sanity returned in the nick of time. My tires squealed while making a left-hand turn under the overpass to get back on the interstate. I stomped on the gas, running through the barely turned red light, and made it a goal to hit one-hundred before the on-ramp ended. The G-force pulled my body into my seat, and I gripped the steering wheel tighter, forcing contact with the now slick leather.
The drive to the club wasn’t as exhilarating as when I drove away from it. I didn’t want to be here. It was loud, full of people, and someone was always trying to climb up to my space. I pulled my car into my reserved parking and killed the engine.
Composure. It was something I had to gain but lost daily. My hair tugged as I ran my fingers through it, pinprick like pain scattered across my scalp as my hair threaded through my fingers. I grabbed the handle and blew out a breath, pushing it open.
I stood and took in my surroundings, my head always on a swivel. I adjusted my gun and pulled my shirt over to cover it. Didn't need people freaking and drawing attention.
The last idiot that thought he would try to ruin my night, I dragged into the alley and limped home with fewer teeth than when he arrived. It was a dreadful night, so I might have overreacted a tad. He never came back, and he shouldn’t; he wouldn’t be welcome. Some people just need to learn what it means to “mind their own business.”
The club was lively. The music thumped from the back entrance. When I opened the door, the assault of bass struck my ears, causing me to flinch on the inside. I cleared the way through sweaty bodies swaying to the music high on who knows what. I watched the bar. One of my female bartenders flipped bottles and entertained the swaths of intoxicated people. She knew how to command the crowd. Her confidence penetrated the bar, and people gravitated towards her. Not me. Her exuberance didn’t lull me. My bouncer cleared the rope as I approached, his chin tipped up in greeting and acknowledgment.
“About time!” Tonk growled, “Where the hell have you been?” He bombarded me with questions as I opened the door to the private lounge.
“I went on a drive.” I didn’t feel like explaining myself, and he didn’t press the issue. I knew he wouldn’t. It wasn’t an important detail.
I picked up the expensive bottle of scotch and took a swig before pouring a glass over ice. I knew the trivial ice rule; I was watering down the scotch. To be fair, it wouldn’t stay in my glass long enough for the ice to melt.
“When are we going to play some country here?”
“Never, Tonk. No one likes that shit but you. It’s depressing as fuck.” I think he knew this; it was why he always played it for his “guests.” Tonk was a man who grew up country and looked city but could fit in at a honky-tonk bar. It was why I gave him the nickname—he loved country music, it was all he listened to, figured it would be obvious.
Tonk let out a chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. We had had this conversation too many times to count, and I wasn’t about to do it again. I downed my scotch, rolling my eyes, and poured some more. Like I said, it wouldn’t last long. Tonk was the one person who could harass me and come out unscathed. He had been around since they emancipated me at sixteen, and he hadn’t fucking left yet. I don’t think I would want him too either. We had each other’s backs. We would die for each other.
I moved over to a flawlessly placed chair and took a seat. The crowd, high on dope, drunk on booze, grinding, and nearly fucking on the dance floor. It would hold no appeal to me unless it was withmy girl. My eyelids drift shut, I could practically smell her strawberry-scented hair, and my dick got hard.Fuck,it was going to be a long night. I stared at my glass, now magically empty, and wondered where it all went. A woman in the sea of many captured my sight as she moved to the bar. A distinctive blonde-haired girl stood out in the black abyss and strobe lights.
Captivated.
My girlwas here.
The club vibrated with an intoxicating energy. I was only here to pick up Lucy, but my body wanted to move to the beat and lose myself in the rhythm. I know I had those Everest-sized piles of papers waiting for me at work, and I just couldn’t bring myself to dance. Even though I had to wake up and bring myself here, I still had my alarm set for six-thirty sharp.
I had to fight my way through a throng of people, one almost clipping me in the face with her flailing elbows. The dance floor looked less appealing when you weren’t drunk. I leaned against the bar, exhausted from my gladiator-like battle across the club.
Was this how it always was?
I stood in front of Lucy; I didn’t want to be sitting at the bar, waiting for her to notice me. I have the patience of an ox sometimes. I sat at the bar one night for thirty minutes before I could grab her attention. Lucy beamed her toothy white smile, and she reached across the bar, wrapping her arms around me.
“Sup, my bitch?” I never took offense to her ridiculous ways of greeting me. I knew they were her version of loving names.
I snorted. “Hey to you too!”
“Want a drink?”
She placed a shot glass down, vodka in her other hand, ready to pour. I slapped my hand over the top of the glass; I was quicker than her.
“Not tonight. I need to drive and get some more sleep. Are you almost done?” The temptation was there, but I had responsibilities. And with Alek being what appeared to be volatile, I chose not to tempt the gods of good fortune.