Page 21 of Heartfelt Pain
Lennie: Please call me if you need anything! Have fun, but be safe!
The message is followed by a slew of emojis. Hearts and sparkles and smiley faces.
She’s cute and precious but something claws inside me.
The black material of my dress cages me in, but it’s not enough to fight back the raging monster inside me.
I know Lennie fought for her love. And I’m not mad at her for finding it.
I am jealous, though.
It’s a miserable feeling. And now that I’m aware of it and aware of why I’m suddenly so upset—because I’m a touched-starved fool—it won’t go away.
The sky outside is dark, lit up buildings dotting the skyline. I catch my reflection in the window.
I’ve got a hand to my stomach and I look too solemn. The dress is designer. I spent a godawful amount on it.
The dress is skintight, the bodice dipping down and cupping each breast. My heels are six inches and my hair falls down my back in thick glamorous waves. I even winged my eyeliner out.
It wasn’t like I needed Len and Isolde for the whole night. I mean, eventually, I’d want some one-on-one time with whoever caught my eye.
And Ren fucking Callahan isn’t afraid to go to a sex club by herself.
Which is why I find myself in the bar at Hartright’s.
I pass a couple on one of the couches. A woman sucks a man off, but I ignore his glazed eyes following my figure. I’m not down for sharing and I’m not after seconds.
I am, however, surprised to see Tyler Mulligan behind the bar.
He’s good-looking with a square jaw and short hair. Thesuit he wears doesn’t properly show off his muscles, but the cut against his broad shoulders certainly looks good.
“I thought you quit.”
He glances up from his work. “Dirty martini?”
“Yes, please.”
He shakes his head. “That’s the nastiest drink.”
“That your professional opinion?”
Laughing, he nods. “Fuck yeah.” He slides over a drink to another customer, before making mine. “You alone?”
I’ve had five years to hone a blank face. I show nothing as he gazes questioningly at me.
There’s no judgment in his eyes, though. “You come to play?”
Working here means he’s seen an awful lot of shit and I can’t imagine a day where he slut shames anyone.
I nod in response to his question. He slides a dirty martini over, flashing a bright smile.
“And here I thought you and that Brit were codependent.”
Under no circumstances does he need to know about the underwear story.
“Where is she at?” he asks, his gaze dipping around the room.
“You suddenly straight?”
