Page 14 of Glitter

All I had to do was wait. I could do that. My angel was worth any amount of impatient waiting I had to do.

Chapter 8

Muddling through three straight days of work with a massive hangover was three days more than anyone should have to endure.

The throbbing pounding of my head and the churning, queasy ick of my stomach on Tuesday—after spending hours upon hours on a barstool while downing drink after drink after drink as a way to reup my butt’s lease on said stool—had been the necessary, willing price I’d paid to keep an eye on the door at Glitter.

It would’ve been a bit more worth it if all that waiting and watching had resulted in the eventual appearance of the man I’d been waiting and watching for.

But my angel never showed on Monday night.

As for the subsequent two additional mornings after waking up with a hangover…those were entirely regrettable.

After there’d been no sign of him on Monday, I’d let my optimistic hope propel me through the doors of the nightclub on Tuesday and Wednesday night as well. Surely,surely, my luck would grant me the thing I desired most—the glorious presence of my tousled, pink-haired, blue-eyed angel.

I’m not entirely sure what it said about me that I stubbornly repeated the pattern of Monday night for two more frustrating and fruitless nights, but that’s exactly what I did. More waiting. More watching. More creepily eyeballing every man, woman, and nonbinary person who set even a single toe inside Glitter, all in the hopes of spotting the one man I wanted to see above all others.

Why I’d downed drink after drink after drink while doing all that eyeballing… One would think that Tuesday’s hangover would’ve persuaded me against that tactic, but apparently not. Because as the night wore on, and each person to cross the threshold proved not to be my angel, I continued to toss drink after drink down my throat.

I really had to hope that nothing goes wrong with my car for the next…let’s go with…year. Because all of my emergency car repair funds had gone instead to three nights of booze mixed with soda.

But at least Thursday morning’s hangover did what Tuesday and Wednesday’s had not—it pounded a logical conclusion into my head that, perhaps, I wasn’t the only one with the habit of only going out on nights where I didn’t have work the following morning.

With that conclusion throbbing in my head along to the beat of residual alcohol working its way out of my system, I’d opted to stay home on Thursday night. Not to mention, my wallet and my stomach had both been crying out for mercy.

The Earth had done its rotating on its axis thing, and I found myself watching the clock and counting down the minutes until I could clock out on another Friday afternoon. My hope was hanging on by a fraying thread…but it was hanging on. I was going to brave the crushing disappointment and take my yearning self to Glitter one more time.

What would I do if he still didn’t make an appearance tonight? Well…I’d probably try again tomorrow night. And if tomorrow night was a bust? I guess, there’s always next weekend.

I’m not sure how long it would take, how many visits would end in disappointment, before I gave up completely.

It was entirely possible that those two nights would be the only nights my angel ever graced Glitter with his presence. I’d been there a few times prior to this past weekend and I’d never seen him there before; there’s no way I wouldn’t have spotted him if he had been there. It was possible that those few hours, those fleeting moments, would be all I’d ever have with my angel.

If they were, I supposed I’d have to make my peace with that. At least I would always have those two encounters as a perfect, glittery memory that would live in my mind for the rest of my days.

Chapter 9

“Hey, buddy. That guy over there wants to buy you a drink.”

My eyes steadily locked on the door to the club, I hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone around me. So, at the bartender’s words, I jolted in my seat.

Twisting my body to face him, my gaze travelled over his plain, black t-shirt—the name of the club, a small, tasteful, silvery flourish across his pecs, which were straining against and testing the structural limits of the fabric—and up to his face. His expression was disinterested and vaguely annoyed as he nodded his head toward somewhere further down along the bar and relayed his message again. “Yeah, that guy. That one. Wants to buy you a drink. You want it or not?”

I swiftly shifted my attention in the direction he’d indicated, hoping… But, no. It wasn’t my angel.

The man looking back at me and eagerly making eye contact was… Well, he was cute. Really cute. With a slim build, dark hair and eyes, and skin that looked dewy and golden, even in the poor lighting of the club. Under any other sort of circumstances, I’d be over the moon ecstatic if a cute guy like that was showing me any sort of interest.

Right now, all that mattered was that he was not the man I was waiting for.

“He doesnot,” came a voice from behind me, answering the bartender’s question on my behalf.

I jolted again, from joy and relief this time, instead of surprise, and I quickly swiveled around on the barstool to face my angel. The bartender, the random, cute stranger, and everybody else on the planet immediately forgotten.

His eyes locked on mine and not straying for a moment, he addressed the bartender again. “You can tell that encroaching hussy that his offer isn’t wanted. I already have something for him to drink.”

A slender finger dipped into the shockingly vibrant pink drink my angel was cradling in his left hand. He then brought that finger up to my lips and slipped it into my mouth, depositing a burst of tangy, sweet, and berry on my tongue. “Isn’t that right, boo?” he asked, his finger teasingly caressing my tongue before he slowly slid it back out of my mouth. “You don’t want what he’s offering. It could never be as tasty as what I’ll give you.”

I was speechless. Breathless.

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