Page 135 of Deceit

Now that I know she has many changes in her life, checking it is a regular occurrence for me. It’s a tortuous addiction that I won’t stop because I have this underlying and exasperating need to make sure she is safe, happy, and taken care of.

Not that it’s my place anymore.

And not that I fucking did a good job with it before anyway.

I’ve learned that she’s still hunting for baby names. That she can’t stand the smell of garlic and craves almond chicken and peanut butter. Also, in her first trimester, all she did was want to take naps and that she had a bag of Blue Ranch Doritos on hand but doesn’t anymore.

I know that her due date for the twins is June 9th and that they are about the size of an ear of corn.

Yeah, twins.

Emmy has more energy now and takes long walks where she snaps pictures of nature and her baby bump. She calls the babies her littlesquishies, and when she takes a selfie, Emmy always makes sure to include her unborn children in the picture.

“Hi.” Glancing to my right, a pretty blonde with her hair in a messy bun takes it upon herself to take a seat next to me and wears a big smile the size of a Cadillac. Her wide hazel eyes batting like she has something in them. “I hope you like tequila. I took a wild shot in the dark.”

I return my focus back to the bar to the dozens of bottles that are neatly stacked side by side.

“I was hoping—“

“Unless you’re going to use your chatty-ass mouth to suck my dick, I’m not your guy.”

I expect her to take off in a huff, but she remains rooted to her stool, still looking at me to probably decide if I’m worth the trouble of continuing a conversation.

I’m not.

“Will you pull my hair when I do it?” Her question has me craning my neck back to her. “If not, that’s a deal-breaker.”

You’re not leaving to do this. You love Emmy.

Fuck that. I’ll do whatever I want to do.

Swiping the shot that she bought me, I swing it back and slam the glass on the bartop to claim to the love-sick part of me that I sure am.

The liquid burns the pit of my stomach as she rises and waits for me to either take her up on the challenge I posed or tell her to fuck off.

For once, the latter doesn’t seem satisfying enough. The only relationship my dick has is with my palm and memories that are beginning to dissolve in my head from the amount of liquor and weed that I’ve been smoking.

I’ve been trying to test the theory if you can, in fact, smoke brain cells away.

Still waiting on the results.

I gesture with my hand for the blonde to lead the way to wherever she wants this to happen.

It’s no skin off my ass if she flakes out and changes her mind. It’s late and I need to be heading home anyway before Scarlett sends a search party for me.

A live rock band has been loudly playing for hours, keeping the patrons and customers occupied all night as we sift through the flock of people dancing and singing along to a rendition ofAddicted to Loveby Robert Palmer.

The woman in front of me sways along to the symbols from the drums, dodging around couples towards a dark hallway. I’ve had at least four beers and five shots that I remember but it doesn’t stop my instincts from going up.

A lot of dangerous things lie in the dark. Many I’ve met, killed, and even had nightmares about.

And while I can take the blonde easily, I’m not sure if she comes along with friends.

She leads me to the women’s bathroom, allowing me to walk in before locking the door behind her. I’m surprised it’s empty with the number of people outside but everyone seems to be enjoying the music too much.

“I’m Lucy,” the blonde says over the loudness of the song, erasing the space between us. “I’ve—“

“I don’t care,” I snap, leaning against one of the stalls. “The only thing I need your lips to do is suck. If you want a conversation get out.”

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