Page 42 of Shattered

“What are you talking about?” he asks, confused.

“Getting in the shower with me when I didn’t invite you. I mean, is a little alone time too much to ask for?”

He looks like I’ve slapped him in the face as he holds his hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry. I thought after all we’ve been through it wasn’t that big of a deal.” He opens the door and steps out.

The bathroom door slams closed and I jump like it just hit me in the heart. In a way, I guess it kind of did.

Maybe I’m overreacting. I shouldn’t have been angry with him. I think I’m letting everything pile up on top of me and it’s beginning to weigh me down again. I need to talk to him, tell him this wasn’t his fault.

I turn off the shower and wrap a towel around me. When I walk back into the room, he’s nowhere to be found.

I feel my shoulders slump with disappointment. Great, now look what I’ve done.

Pushing it all from my mind, I walk back into the bathroom and finish with my shower. When I’m done, he still isn’t back. I pull on a pair of jeans and a tank top, leaving my wet hair hanging down my back, and walk out. I need to find him. I have to tell him that I’m sorry, that none of this is his fault.

I remember seeing a bar only a block down the road. I’ll try there first.

When I walk in, loud music pumps through the bar. The bass is so loud I can feel it vibrating through my chest. I squeeze through the crowd and look over every face I pass. I walk by the bar, but he’s not sitting on a stool. I start my journey deeper into the building.

At the back of the bar is a small stage with three poles in the center. There are two girls up, swinging around, but no exotic dancers, thank God.

I push through until I see him out of the corner of my eye. He’s sitting in the darkened corner booth. The multicolored lights flash over his face and his dark eyes meet mine. They are cold and unmoving, instantly sending a chill through me.

I take a deep breath and push on. I freeze when I see his arm wrapped around the back of the booth with a blonde on each side of him. He’s not touching them, or even looking at them, but they are eating him with their eyes.

I angrily stomp over to him. “What are you doing? Why’d you leave?”

He looks at each girl next to him and gives me his cocky grin. “You didn’t want me around.” He shrugs carelessly. “Figured I’d find someone who does. And what do you know?” He leans forward, the grin never leaving his lips. “I found two.”

“Find your own way home, pig.” I turn on my heels and walk away from him.

I mean to leave, but I’m so angry I can’t. I need a drink. I know it’s going to go one of two ways. It will make me numb and help me forget, or it will intensify everything and make me pissed. But right now, I’m willing to take my chances because I haven’t even allowed myself to love him yet, and already I hurt.

I take a seat on the barstool and order the largest Long Island Iced Tea they have. Luckily for me, they have fishbowl style drinks.

The bartender places my drink in front of me with four straws. I hand him some money, and grab three straws and toss them on the bar.

My lips don’t leave the straw as I sit and stew in my anger. But slowly, over the course of an hour of continuous drinking, everything falls away.

It’s going on midnight when a loud voice booms through the bar. “Please welcome Kandi, Mindi, and Lilli!”

The bar goes completely dark before a bright, white light pops on, pointing directly at the stage. Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard blares through the speakers as three women take to the stage.

The crowd goes wild with cheers as they stand by their poles. Suddenly, they all break out in a dance routine that consists of spinning around, humping the floor, and removing articles of clothing.

I watch completely mystified. How do these women do it? How do you have enough self-esteem to get up there in front of all these people and dance around while naked? And how the fuck do they make it look so easy?

It occurs to me that River is probably in heaven right now. I spin and look in his direction. Before the large crowd was blocking my view of him, but now they are all pushed closer to the stage, clearing the way.

My eyes land on him, and he’s not moving or talking. He’s just watching me while the women on his side chatter away with each other. His arms are no longer outstretched behind them either. They appear to be sitting in his lap, still as a statue.

The fact that he’s not touching them and they’re not touching him makes me feel a little better, but him being over there with them still makes me as jealous as can be.

I spin around in my anger and down some more of my drink as another dance starts up.

“Hey!” I yell at the bartender once my drink is almost completely gone.

“I can’t serve you another one of those,” he says automatically when he sees my empty drink with only one straw.

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