Page 16 of Grind
7
Connor
The DJ spins his latest mixes, expertly weaving together a mesmerizing soundtrack to tonight’s debauchery.
People squeeze onto the dance floor to undulate and grind, seeing, being seen. They’re leaving everything behind for a few hours in a haze of bodies and alcohol. Every table and available inch of floor space is packed, and a quick glance out the door shows me a line around the block of would-be partiers waiting to get in. It’s a record night for the club, and a quick check with my security guys shows everything’s running smoothly.
Exactly as it should be at Intrigue. Just the way I set it up.
So why the hell am I so on edge? Again. I pull out my phone and quickly check the screen.
Still nothing.
“Hey, boss.” It’s Sully, standing next to me. He’s vigilantly scanning the crowd and won’t make eye contact, but I can see an eyebrow raised. A shit-eating grin on his face.
“If she ain’t called yet, she’s probably not going to.”
“Fuck off, Sully.”
He’s right. It’s been over a week since I’ve seen Ava. Over a week since she ran out of my place. She took my card, so I know she has my number. She’ll call when she’s ready.
But maybe I’m not ready to wait any longer.
I don’t have her number, but I could get it. I know where she works, where she goes to school. It’d be easy enough to track her down. Check on her. Make sure she’s safe and if I’m honest with myself, just see her again.
But what would that make me? Another fucking stalker.
I don’t want to pressure her. And I don’t have time to take this further. I’ve got my own shit to deal with. If there’s ever a time I need to keep my head straight, it’s now.
The week has been full of meetings about the family business, and for the first time, I’m wrestling with my future in a real way. Intrigue’s one of the biggest money-makers in Doyle Enterprises. But do I want to run this club forever? Giving my head a sharp shake, I look around again. Not going to solve every issue tonight.
My mind goes back to Ava. Something tells me that it’s all in with this girl. If I start things up with Ava, it’s going to get serious fast.
Trying to refocus, my thoughts drift again to her sitting in my kitchen. Sitting in my lap. Sleeping in my bed. Jesus, Doyle, pull it together. I can’t remember the last time a woman had an effect on me like this. Not ever, if I’m honest.
A group of giggling, long-legged blondes head my way and make small talk, interrupting my thoughts. One in particular works to get my attention. It’s all I can do to keep my smile flashing and my tone mildly interested.
Time to get the fuck out of here.
A few minutes later, I’m out in the cool night air. It’s a relief from the pulsating energy of the club.
What are you doing here, Connor?
My body seems to know instinctively, leaving my car next to the club and heading in the general direction of Gus’s Diner. Time for some shitty diner food, and maybe some excellent company if I luck out.
As I walk briskly, the neighborhood gets bad just a few minutes away from the club. Drunks. A lot of vacant areas. It’s no problem for me. People move out of the way fast for a big bruiser in a suit.
But I don’t like the idea of Ava working here. Walking around at night, alone, unprotected.
Frustrated, I run a hand through my hair. Keep it together. You’re getting ahead of yourself, Doyle. Way ahead of yourself.
A few minutes later, I’m standing outside a low-rent diner with a broken sign that cheerfully declares itself Gus’s. Even in the dim light of the interior, it's easy to see that the place is grimy and tired. A few patrons scattered at booths drink coffee or hunch together in conversation. My eyes sweep the place but don't find Ava.
Only one way tosee if she is here.
An old bellchimes over the door when I walk in. My eyes adjust to the light, and the few customers have turned to take me in. In my dark suit, I stand out in the casual crowd.Clearly, this is not a place I belong.
Honestly though, I’m probably more at home here on some level than I am in my own nightclub. I’d bussed tables at the Kildare since I was seven or eight. My family’s old neighborhood bar isn’t a big step up from this place.
