Evan Arden 02 Otherwise Occupied (19 page)

I ordered a PB&J waffle, and Bridgett just stared at me like I was nuts.

“I’ll give you a bite,” I promised her.  “You won’t regret it.”

“I already do,” she stated.

Michele brought out another round of drinks and rolled her eyes at me once she got a good look at Bridgett, which confirmed my suspicions.  I wasn’t sure how she knew, but I could tell by her expression that she understood the situation.  I gave her the evil eye back – the last thing I needed was someone who served me drinks judging me for the quality of my date.

Thankfully, Bridgett didn’t seem to notice, not
that I cared what Michele or anyone else thought about me or my date.  However, this was supposed to be a nice night for Bridgett, and I didn’t want something stupid to ruin it.  So far, everything had been perfect.

“These drinks really are fantastic!” Bridgett said as she sipped the fruity martini.

“All of the drinks here are great,” I told her.  “They have awesome food, too.”

We ordered a couple more drinks, and as crowds rolled in, the manager tried to help out at the bar.  He scratched his head
, stared at the rows of bottles on the shelf, and looked lost.

It was kind of like cabaret.

“You put cranberries in it, right?” he asked.

“It’s a raspberry martini,” Michele replied, “so you put raspberries in it.”

“Got it.”
  Patrick looked around the bar, then under it.  “Umm…where are they?”

“You need a glass,” Michele informed him.  She pulled four beers and placed them neatly on a tray before walking off.

“Do you know what vodka Michele was using?” Patrick asked me as he held up two bottles.

“The good
shit,” I replied, which made Bridgett giggle.

He put both bottles back and grabbed a tall bottle of Grey Goose.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Michele mumbled as she came back and took the shaker from him.

The drinks were made, and the banter continued.

“Did you need a glass, George?”

“You have to pour it in the mouth!”

“This shirt keeps coming un-tucked – I look like a total loser.”

“You are a total loser.”

“You can’t talk to me like that!”

“So, where can I go to find a hooker?”

Maybe the patron thought he was being quiet or subtle, but he wasn’t.  The concierge chuckled and rubbed the spot between his eyes, which made his glasses bounce up and down on his face.  I glanced over at Bridgett, who had obviously heard the guy’s question.  She wrapped her fingers around the edge of her new drink and stared at the floating fruit.

I reached over and placed the end of my finger under her chin to turn her towards me.  For a long moment, we just looked at each other, and then I leaned in to press my lips against hers.  My tongue tasted the raspberry drink as it reached into her mouth.

I tilted my head and kissed her again.

And again.

Her fingers gripped my arm through my suit jacket as she pressed harder against me.  When we parted, her eyes were glassy and her chest rose and fell with her breaths.  I couldn’t help but smile a bit at her expression, which seemed to cause her to blush.

She was a fucking sexy sight.

One of the other patrons noticed her, too, but one glare from me and he kept his eyes to himself.

“You are beautiful tonight,” I whispered.

Before she could respond, the manager walked behind me, grumbling.

“I hate it when people wave their hand at me,” Patrick mumbled under his breath.  “What does she want me to do, jump over and serve her a drink?”

I glanced at the overweight woman with her hair up in a bun.  She was waving frantically from one of the window-side tables.  Patrick managed to put his smile back on before facing her, and Bridgett snickered.

“He’s an interesting one,” she said quietly.

“You haven’t seen the half of it,” I told her.  I leaned in a little closer and pushed her hair off her shoulder.  “I was in here once when Michele was on vacation – the guy couldn’t figure out how to make a rum and Coke.”

Michele brought out my PB&J waffle.

“Are you really going to eat that?” Bridgett asked as she looked down at the plate.

“Most definitely,” I told her.  “This shit is the best soul food in the world, right
, Michele?”

“Better than chicken and biscuits,” she agreed.  “Actually, that’s the only thing that could make them any better – put a piece of chicken in the middle and cover it all with gravy.”

“We should totally try that!” Patrick said.  “I’m gonna see if they’ll make that in the kitchen.”

Patrick disappeared, and Michele laughed.  Bridgett shook her head and rolled her eyes at me.  I took my fork and cut off a little piece of the waffle, which was oozing jelly.  Picking it up with my fingers, I turned towards Bridgett and held it up to her mouth.

“You want to try this,” I informed her.

“I really don’t think I do!” she cringed and mashed her lips together.

With one finger, I traced up the side of her neck.

“You would regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t try it.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Come on,” I urged.  “If you can swallow guys’ cocks all night, you can definitely try this.”

She glared at me, and I realized what I said was pretty douchebaggish but ended up rolling my eyes back at her.

“Just try it.”

With her eyes still slightly narrowed, she opened her mouth and took the little piece inside.  As soon as she sunk her teeth into the homemade waffle oozing peanut butter and strawberry jelly, I knew she was hooked, and she had totally forgotten what I had said.

“This is incredible!” she exclaimed.

“It’s awesome, right?  Food of the fucking gods.”

“I have never eaten anything quite like this,” Bridgett said.  “It’s amazing.”

We shared the remainder with me feeding her chunks of it alternated with my own bites.  When it was gone, Bridgett excused herself to wash the sticky jelly off her face where I kept missing her mouth.

“What the hell, Evan?”  Michele with one “L” stepped up in front of me from the other side of the bar.

She was giving me one of those looks that, despite my other observation skills, I had never understood.  It was a look I’d only seen from women, and though it seemed to coincide with something whatever guy she was with did, I never understood what it was actually supposed to
mean
.  It always ended up with the husband or boyfriend in trouble, though.  Often, he ended up alone.

“What?” I asked.

Michele leaned over the bar on her elbows and looked up at me.

“That’s a hooker,” she stated.

“So?”

“So, what the hell?”

“I always fuck hookers.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Do you always dress them up like they spend half their lives at Saks for a night on the town?”

I glared at her.

“What difference does that make?”  I leaned back on the stool and folded my arms across my chest.  “If I’m paying for her, what the fuck difference does it make what I do with her?”

“You are such a man.”  She tossed her hands up and started walking away.

“Well, yeah!” I called back.  “You want to check out my dick?”

She looked quickly over to Patrick, her manager, to make sure he wasn’t looking in
her direction, flipped me off, and then moved to the far end of the bar to serve someone else.  Bridgett came back, and I never did get the chance to ask Michele what she was going on about.

Bridgett and I still spent a couple hours at 676 just talking and hanging out.  At some point we moved over to the more comfortable chairs near the windows overlooking Michigan Avenue.  I put my arm around Bridgett’s shoulders, and we watched the traffic go by.  When the fascination with the view seemed to have waned, I took her by the hand and led her back downstairs to the valet.

Bridgett was quiet as we drove back to my place and continued her silence as we parked the car, went up to the apartment, and then took Odin out for a walk around the park.  Though technically closed in the later hours of the night, we made our way over to the dog run where I could let Odin off his leash so he could run around a bit.

I leaned against the fence at one side of the park and tried to ignore the beeping sounds from the parking garage behind me.  Ever since the day the damn garage went in, the electronic warning signal when the parking garage door went up had been driving me nuts.  When the balcony door was open, I could hear it from the living room.

I glared at the large metal door as the wind from the lake picked up and blew some trash down the street.  Bridgett shivered and pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders.  Reaching out, I took her by the waist and pulled her back against my chest.  My lips found her neck as I began to remember the feeling of her tight ass gripping my shaft.  My hand moved from her hip to her stomach and then farther up to palm her tit.

Odin raced from one shrub to the other, watering and fertilizing as he went.

“Did you have a good time?” I whispered into her ear.

Bridgett nodded quickly.

My tongue flicked out over her skin.

“You look so good tonight,” I told her.  “I thought I might have to kill one of the guys at the bar for staring at you.”

She stiffened and took a step away from me.  Her hands pushed at my arms until I let go of her, and she moved out of my reach.

“What are you doing, Evan?” Bridgett turned and glared up at me with tears streaming down her face.  “What the fuck is this, huh?  What happened to all that ‘it’s just fucking’ garbage?  Is that what this is?”

She ripped the bracelet from her wrist and shook it at me.

“
You going to fuck me with this?”

I took a half step back as my insides began to feel as if they were slipping down into my feet, leaving the top half of me cold.

“I just…I thought since you…”  I stopped and shook my head to clear it.  “You took care of me when I was sick – I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” she scoffed.  “Why did you even have that guy come and get me, huh?  What made you think I’d come and take care of you, Evan?”

Another half step backwards and I hit my back on the fence.  The tension that immediately flowed through my body was familiar and frightening.  Bridgett was too close to me to get around her effectively, and I couldn’t turn and jump the fence without hitting her in the process.

I looked up towards the skyline to try to free my head of the enclosed feeling, but it was a cloudy night and I couldn’t see any open space.  There were high rise buildings all around us.

The closed-up feeling increased, and then the fucking parking garage door began to beep again.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I growled at her.  “You said you had a good time!”

“I did have a good time!” she yelled back at me.  “Don’t you see?  That’s the problem!”

My mouth probably dropped open as I tried to figure out what the hell she was talking about.  Though normally pretty apt when it
came to reading people’s body language, the combination of the claustrophobia and Bridgett’s sudden change in behavior completely took me aback.

Not a feeling I liked.

Not at all.

“Damn, you bitches make no sense!” I snapped at her.

Odin was suddenly at my side, snuffling at my hand.  I grabbed it away from him and pointed a finger at Bridgett.

“I told you what this was,” I snarled at her, “and you know full well what I am.  I give you money
, and you let me use your body for whatever the fuck I want.  That’s what this is, and that’s how this works.”

“You are so full of shit,” she snapped back.  “Who sends for their favorite whore when they have a tummy ache?”

Irrespective of the point made, I refused to back down.  In fact, knowing she had such a good point made me have to take it that much further.

“And what kind of whore falls for her hit man john?  Didn’t it occur to you that the only way this ends is you with a bullet in your brain?”

I stood there glowering at her as Odin whined by my side, and Bridgett stared at me for a long moment.  Without another word, she turned and ran out of the park and up the stairs towards Columbia Drive.  About half way up, she stopped, cursed loud enough for me to hear from where I was, reached down, and took off her shoes.  A moment later, she was completely out of my sight, and I was left alone with the dog.

My heart was still pounding in my chest.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

I took Odin back up to the apartment, ditched the tie, and then went back outside.

There was no way I was going to admit to myself or anyone else that I was looking for her.  I wasn’t.  I was only going for a nice walk in the evening.

Well, nearly midnight.