Page 51 of The Billionaire's Kiss
Chapter Twenty-One
Warner
Only one month had passed since she’d left, yet it felt as if I’d already spent an eternity without her. I hadn’t called her, nor had she called me. We had to let it die out completely, with no hope of resuscitation.
My brother Cohen walked past my open office door. He stopped and looked in at me. “Hey, bro. Some of the other guys and I are heading out to this new club on the southside. You should come.”
“Nah.” I didn’t feel like a night out.
“Why?” he asked as he came into my office, closing the door behind him. “Because you don’t look busy. You don’t look like you’ve got anything going on at all. As a matter of fact, when I saw you, you were just staring off into space. So stop sulking over that girl and come out. Join the living, bro.”
“It’s just that I know I won’t be good company. I don’t want to get in the way of you guys having a good time. If I come with you, then Iwillbe a dud.” I didn’t believe in putting my sorrowful mood on display either.
“Warner, this isn’t you. This isn’t the old you or the you that you were when she was around. You’re just a shell of a man right now. You need to fill this shell with a new and improved you.”
“That’s one hell of yous at one time, bro.” I chuckled, and it did feel good to laugh. I knew I had to get out and get over things. There was no use wallowing in self-pity. “Yeah, I’ll go with you guys.” I got up, grabbed my suit jacket, and followed my brother out.
An hour later, we were sitting at a large table, drinking beer and talking about anything but work. Or they were. I was just drinking the beer and thinking about how I hadn’t had an alcoholic drink since the night Orla and I were in San Antonio at the Riverwalk.
“Another round,” one of the other guys shouted to the waitress.
I looked around the table and saw that most of the glasses were empty, while mine was still full. Cohen looked at my glass. “Drink up, bro. What’re you waiting for?”
“It’s been a month since I’ve drunk anything with alcohol in it.”
His eyes got big, and his mouth gaped. “What the hell are you saying to me?”
Lou from accounting answered that for me, “I think he’s saying that we need to get him fucked up!”
“Yeah!” all the others shouted and pumped their fists into the air. Some even gave each other high fives over the bad—unbelievably bad—idea.
“No,” I said loud enough so they could hear me over their cheering. “I’m not going to get fucked up.”
Cohen draped his arm over my shoulders and leaned in close. “I’ve got an even better idea. We’re gonna get you laid, bro. The best way to get over someone is to get over someone else.”
“I think you said that wrong. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not about to get laidorfucked up. I think this was a mistake.” I was about to get up when the door to the club opened, and a group of women entered. One of them had auburn hair piled up on top of her head. It caught my eye, and I couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Found one already, huh?” my brother asked. “Go ahead. Talk to her.”
“First of all, she just walked in through the door. It would be rude to go up to her and start talking before she even gets settled,” I said.
Marshall, from housekeeping, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, man. You don’t just walk up to a lady who’s just come into a club. You gotta grab her a drink first, and then go up to her. But no chit-chat. Just hand her the drink, then start groovin’.”
“Groovin’?” I had to ask.
Jones, a porter at the resort, jumped in. Hopping up, he started dancing all slow and bobbing his head a little. “Groovin’, boss. Just hand her the drink, then groove a bit before you jerk your head toward the dance floor, and all the rest will fall into place.”
“You sure you want to go after another redhead, Warner?” Cohen asked me.
“I don’t want to go afteranyone.” They were getting on my nerves, even if they were trying to be helpful. “I’m gonna go find a bathroom.”
Getting up, I headed toward the back where the bathrooms were usually found. And just as I saw the sign that saidStuds,which I assumed meant the men’s room, I saw the girl with auburn hair again. She was still with the group she’d come in with. Our eyes met, she smiled and then waved casually.
I stood there, still as stone, as she started walking toward me. I had no idea what to say or do. I felt like bolting. But then she was right there. “Hey there, fella,” came her thick accent. It was too thick to be from Texas.
“You from here?” I asked.
“No, sir. I’m from Nashville. Born and raised.” She looked back at her group of girlfriends. “I’m down here visitin’ my cousin. I ain’t never been to this club before. It’s cute. I like when they use cool names for the bathrooms. Like this one has studs for the guys and chicks for the girls. It’s cute. Don’t you think it’s cute?”
