Page 16 of Tied

“Tyler Marshall.”

She smirks. I see trouble brewing in her look as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Really?”

“Why? Does that surprise you?”

“Tyler only comes alone.”

“Well, it wasn’t an invite if that’s what you’re thinking. His friend, Troy—”

“That makes more sense,” she interrupts, laughing loudly. “Of course it was Troy. That sneaky, conniving…” She pauses as the waitress reappears with our drinks. “Let me guess, both of his dimples were deep?”

Narrowing my gaze, I take the drink and sip the sweet liquid, staying quiet. I have a feeling that I don’t need to answer her question; it was more rhetorical, so I leave be. Peering around the room, I take in the antics again. I’m enjoying this more than I’ll let on. There’s every taboo known. Each are enacted with the exception of livestock.

As my eyes seek Tyler out, I find myself entranced. He’s leaning back against a couch, alone. No one approaches him, and he doesn’t call anyone out to join him. He sits there looking almost bored as he watches a threesome of beautiful black men on the couch to his left. How can he seem so disinterested? One darling is riding another man, holding his dreads like a set of reins. An obviously well-endowed God tops off the three-tiered cake.

Tapping me on the shoulder, the woman pulls me from my concentrated stare. “Chris. Do you mind if I call you Chris?”

Without looking away, I state deadpan, “You’ve assumed my drink of choice, bought said drink, and you’ve yet to give me your name. I doubt I could stop you from calling me Dorothy at this rate.”

Wiggling her brows, she says, “True. So, Chris, I feel that I should give you an honest appraisal of your chances with Tyler. Ain’t happenin’.”

I’ve yet to take my eyes away from his form as she talks to me. “Thanks for the honest appraisal. At least you’re not sugar coating it.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like you. Personally, you’re one of my favorite governors. I don’t think I’ll have to prosecute you.” I finally look at her and laugh at her audacity. “That’s a plus in my book, you see. I’m very protective of my friends. And Tyler, though he needs a good man in his life, won’t take the time on a cheater. His heart can’t take it again.”

I give the tiny woman my full attention and state seriously, “I’m not a cheater.”

“In my book, having a beard counts as cheating. The public persona of a ring takes you off the table with Tyler. When you’re single, come back and try again.” With a gentle tap on my shoulder, she starts to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Chris. Have a nice night here.”

I watch her walk off, her tiny retreating frame disappearing into the foray of undulating bodies, as if her wholesome look isn’t out of place. “Thanks for the drink,” I call out, raising the almost empty cocktail glass to the vacant air. I know what she said about Tyler and I is true. He’s out of my league. Perfect, smart, knows what he wants and what he doesn’t, and I’m confined in a lifeless situation. But I have a hard time peeling my concentration away from him. It’s not just about his overall look, even though he’s beautiful, but he has morals. Plus, even as they fuck beside his drink, he isn’t fawning over every naked body in the place. That tells me more about him than anything.

Finishing the dribbles of my drink, I lick the edge, wishing the glass was deeper. I search out the nearest, least busy bar.

Buzzing with a sea of requests, the bartenders fly back and forth with ease between awaiting patrons. Stepping up to the group, waiting behind a few giggling women, I watch as they rate the men around them like thumbing through dating sites. Swiping left and right, looking at the men in the area, comparing them based on height, style, and expected sexual prowess. They crack jokes as they fawn and swoon over the candidates. The men aren’t oblivious to this rating system, and as they buy the women drinks in hopes of further showmanship on the display floor, they rate the women in the same manner.

“Kind of appalling, isn’t it?” The man beside me states. He’s shorter than me, which is normal. His hair is neat, his attire too, and his face looks polished, as if he’s added makeup to cover teenage blemishes.

“I guess it can be. But just because they do it aloud doesn’t mean it’s any different than what we do internally.” Hitting the bar, the woman behind it asks what I’d like. I order another cosmo. Handing her the empty glass, I watch as she walks off to fill it, leaving the well-dressed man and I to chat. I extend my hand out and introduce myself. “Chris.”

Returning the handshake, he replies, “Marcus.”

“Come here often, Marcus?”

“No. Only when I’m in town. I’m here on business.”

“Me too.” As the bartender brings the drink, I pay her and leave Marcus to his own devices. I want to source out where Tyler is again. I’ve watched all day, I might as well keep up the stalker addiction.

To the left of the bar there’s an upper level—a viewing area if you will. Walking up, I find plush, velvet red arm chairs with very few taken up. Picking one, I take a seat and immediately begin my search for Tyler. Sitting right where I’d seen him last, he’s no longer alone. Straddled across his lap, talking to him, is the very same platinum beauty who spoke to me earlier. They’re not intimate, but it’s obvious that they’re close to one another. As they chat, a noticeably large, dangerous looking fellow steps up.

Popping out of Tyler’s lap, squealing with delight, she rushes into his arms, immediately attempting to strip his clothing off. Not where I saw this going, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. I could definitely see Carli causing mayhem and destruction if given free rein in a place like this. Princess Crown would have them bowing at her feet, no doubt. Best I don’t tell her about it.

As I watch their inevitable striptease, I don’t notice my previous companion’s arrival.

“Quite the place, huh? I’m always amazed at how much those two let strangers see of their lives.” Swallowing back a mouthful of his Corona, he leans on the railing before taking a seat beside me.

“Who are they?” I ask, seeing he’s so anxious to give out info.

“The guy is Rush, MMA champ and owner of the club. The woman is his wife, Julia. She’s a big-time prosecutor. Stories about her are legend.”

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