Page 66 of Charming Deception

“I know. I totally appreciate you putting my name in.”

“Anytime.” She pushes off the table. “I’m off in a few. Just have one more tab to clear up.” She tips her head at a group of well-dressed men who’ve gotten louder with each round she’s served them. “Wish me a big, juicy tip,” she says, then saunters over there.

I watch her go, in awe of her ease working in this massive, glamorous nightclub. She told me this was her favorite hangout, so getting a job here just seemed natural. Of course to her, it would.

I’m really not here to beg her boss for a job, though. I just want to get out of the apartment for an evening. I’ve put in so many hours this week staring at my laptop, scouring job postings and tweaking my résumé.

Searching for a job has become a full-time job in itself.

But I don’t have enough money to cover next month’s share of the rent and utilities, a work wardrobe and transportation, much less going-out-on-the-town money, so this will have to be a rare treat.

My phone lights up with a text, and I check it with an awful feeling in my stomach, like worms writhing. It still happens every time a message or a call comes in: dread that it will be Troy. And usually, it is. He’s more persistent than Jameson, more overbearing, and in a much less enjoyable way.

And, yup. It’s him.

The energy vampire strikes again.

Troy’s text begins with the word I, and I swipe it away into oblivion, feeling exhausted without even reading it. His texts and his voicemails always start with I. I want… I need… I think…

It’s always about him.

As a grade-A narcissist, he doesn’t have any capacity to see me as an individual human. In his warped mind, I’m just an extension of himself. As is everyone who comes into his life.

It’s sad, really.

All I can do is keep reminding myself that his interest will fade. When it gets through to him that I’m not coming back, that he really can’t squeeze anything more out of me, he’ll move on.

Like I have.

I set my phone aside, and as I people watch from my high table, absorbing this budding new life of mine, the sights and sounds thrill me. The music is loud and pumping, sexy, and people keep bumping into my table. Maybe it’s strange that I’m sitting here alone in a busy nightclub, because four different guys—and a girl—have tried to talk to me and buy me a drink. I probably should’ve just said yes, but I always say no. I’m not ready to date someone new, and I don’t want to lead anyone on.

I just want to enjoy the spectacle as people flirt and celebrate their Friday night all around me. The lone bar in Crooks Creek is nothing like this, and this place is just one of many upscale hangouts in downtown Vancouver. The sheer volume of well-dressed people, the energy… Other than the one time my brother flew me to New York City to watch him in a playoff game, then wined and dined me in the Big Apple, I’ve never experienced anything like this.

I’ve been getting to know the city as well as I can on foot, walking from Nicole’s place to Granville Island, along the beautiful Seawall and over the Granville bridge into downtown, and I’ve been falling in love with Vancouver. The fresh, saltwater breeze off False Creek. The majestic mountains that frame downtown. The hustle of big city life, the fast pace and the crowds.

People call Vancouver a “laid-back” city, but to me, it’s pumping and vibrant and thrilling.

I love it all.

I can even see myself hanging out with my brother at his new house, having dinner together and watching hockey games. Both of us living our own lives, but getting to spend more time together.

To his credit, Cole has backed off. He wasn’t thrilled when I told him I’d moved over to Nicole’s apartment, but he’s stopped calling from LA to check on me every day. At first, I thought maybe he’d gotten it through his head that I wanted to do this my way, on my own.

But then I realized Jameson had just taken over the task of butting into my life.

Since I quit the gardening job and moved out of his house, my brother’s best friend has offered me four more jobs, an apartment of my own that he’d pay for, and this morning, he offered me straight-up cash to cover my rent—for the next six months. I haven’t even mentioned those last two to Nicole; if I told her I turned those offers down, she’d drive me straight to the nearest psychiatric ward and ask them to run a full diagnostic check.

I just don’t want my big brother swooping in to save me, no matter how he goes about it. But I do feel guilty about saying no to Jameson’s offers. I know Nicole probably wouldn’t, which just makes me feel worse for freeloading off her right now.

I watch her as she approaches, a smile on her face and a frosty mango margarita in her hand.

“Juicy tip?”

“So juicy. The girls are on their way. I just need to grab my things from the back, then I’ll join you.” She sets the margarita in front of me. “Thought you’d like another before I clock out.”

“Yes, please. But two’s my limit tonight. I’m on a budget.”

“Don’t worry about it. This one’s on me.”

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