Page 68 of Target

“My sister used to drink like this; she was funny drunk. Always the life of the party.” She has a faraway look in her eyes, like she is flickering through family memories. “We were close, she was my best friend and my sister, ya know.”

I nod to her, looking at Darian and thinking of Aria. Even with our age gap, we are still close despite our ups and downs, but I get the sense that Louise has lost her sister. “I do. What happened, if you do not mind me asking?”

“She fell ill. It came out of nowhere, and the doctors did not have a clue what it was until it was too late. After she passed, they did an autopsy and she had an infection in her heart that the doctors missed.”

“Oh, I am so sorry, Louise.” I place my hand on her knee.

“Thank you.” She waves her hand in the air. “God, what a way to kill the party. I think your bestie needs a bed to sleep it off.”

I laugh, looking at Darian passed out in the chair.

A loud crash comes from across the room and I see Forge and Flame wrestling on the floor. The other men are cheering them on. Both men are laughing and not doing much grappling.

“They are like wild children.” Louise laughs.

I laugh with her because this shit is funny, seeing two grown men laugh so hard that they cannot fight each other.

With the sudden urge to pee, I get to my feet and head down the hall that Louise told me leads to the restroom.

With a smile on my face, my body still vibrating with happiness after the scene that played out in the main room, I walk down the hall until reach the restroom door. Pushing it open, I see two of the club girls are touching up their make-up. I give them a tentative smile, rushing into the stall.

My happiness faded as soon as I saw them. I have seen the nasty looks they have been throwing at me and Darian, even though Tracie told us to ignore them. I knew that Target was there with me, but I couldn’t ignore them.

My stomach tightens hearing their giggles and whispers and I know they are talking about me. I hate confrontation and bullying, but I was never strong enough to stand up for myself— that is what I have Darian for, but she is not here.

I sigh before pulling in a deep breath, pulling up my big girl panties or thong in this case, and straighten my dress. Shaking it off, I exit the stall, stepping to the basin and washing my hands. My body vibrates with unease, as they continue their childish giggling.

“Do it, tell her,” one whispers on a giggle and the sound is nasally and makes my skin crawl.

The leader of the little three woman group steps to me, her body touches my elbow and I inch back from the touch.

“You do know that you are not enough for Target, right?” She laughs, looking at her friends, then back to me.

I turn my head to face her, seeing the smug look on her face that I would love to slap off but that is not me. Violence is not the answer, but sometimes I get so freaking close.

“Why do you say that?” I ask, and instantly regret it.

The knowing look on their faces tells me that they know something that I do not. My stomach drops with the feeling that what they will tell me will cause some trouble for Target and me.

My ugly insecurity rears its head, smirking but I try to push it down to service this scene that is playing out.

“Oh, has he not told you? Target knows his way around the bedroom.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine, and I feel a lead weight settle in my stomach, making me feel ill. I worry that whatever they are about to say will shatter my already fragile confidence when it comes to my relationship with Target.

Their secretive whispers and mocking smiles have only heightened my anxiety and my buffer is out there in the main room drinking the night away, oblivious to what is happening.

"What do you mean?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, betraying my fear and vulnerability.

I am not privy to the information they hold, and the uncertainty gnaws at me.

The leader steps closer, her eyes gleaming with delight that she knows what I do not.

"Oh, you poor thing," she says, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Target has a taste for variety. You're just one thing that he likes to fuck, sweetie. Target likes to fuck ass and suck cock, too. Ask him, hell, ask Savage— he has fucked him a few times."

My heart sinks, and I feel the sting of her words deep but what hurts the most, is that if she is telling the truth, Target kept this from me. The thoughts echo in the background of my mind, amplifying my humiliation.

I can barely stand to look at them, but I force myself to maintain eye contact, refusing to let them see how much they've hurt me.

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