Page 13 of Bar Down, Baby

“Your turn,”she says. We’ve been playing a fairly tame version of two truths and a lie for the last beer and a half. I know that she loves the color red, that she likes rainy days, and adores Polaroids. She’s been in Portland for almost four years, and she moved into Faye’s old room after her old dickwad roommate kicked her out to make room for his new girlfriend.

But I need more. I need to dig deeper with this girl if I want to hook her. I think for a long moment, and then I figure it out. I don’t want to hold back with this girl. Something tells me that she needs me to lay it all out there if she’s going to trust me.

“I was born in Malta. My father owns seventeen champion racehorses, and I’m divorced.”

Her eyebrows lift and her cheeks flush as if she’s suddenly embarrassed. But she presses those plump red lips together and thinks hard.

“I’m thinking… there’s no way you’re divorced.” She squints as if she can’t bear to see the expression on my face.

“I was, in fact, born in Malta. My parents were on vacation and the doctor had been a little off in his calculations. So I hold dual citizenship, because why not?”

“Sure.” She laughs. “As one does.” Then she holds up a long, delicate finger. “Wait, does that make you a prince or something?”

I laugh and she blushes.

“Princess, I am no prince. Sorry to disappoint.” I nudge her knee with mine. She shifts, and her knees settle between mine. I never knew something so small could feel so big.

“I am the farthest thing from a princess,” she says, then waves me on. “Okay, keep going.”

I grin and continue. “My father owns…”

She covers her eyes and then peeks through her fingers.

“Threechampion racehorses.”

She drops her hands and her jaw, in that order. “Oh,” she says, the smile falling off her face.

I nod. “I got married right out of college. We divorced five years later, but we’re still good friends. In fact, she married one of my groomsmen.”

“Seriously?” Her jaw drops again, but there’s something more like awe mixed in.

“They’re having a baby,” I say. I feel Freddy’s gaze and realize I haven’t told him yet. I haven’t told anyone. Freddy has become the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in years.

“Wow,” she says. “I think that’s incredible.”

“It really is,” I say, but for very different reasons.

She nods and smiles at me.

“Okay, your turn,” I say.

She blinks and takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she says, thinking. “I’ve never been on an airplane, I left home when I was sixteen, and I work at a strip club.”

My cock jolts at the thought of Megan writhing against a pole. I would pay good money to watch her do that. But there’s something too soft, too delicate about the way she carries herself. She’s just revealed something big that has left her looking vulnerable. And that’s not it.

“I have no doubt you would be very popular, but there’s no way you work at a strip club.”

She flinches. I realize, too late, I’ve made a mistake. She forces a tight smile and in that moment, I have the profound sense that I never again want to be the reason she has to force anything.

“I have never been on an airplane.” She takes a breath. “I left home when I wasseventeen, and I work at a strip club… as a waitress.”

I nod, hearing her clearly. “How long have you worked there?”

“Um…” She cocks her head and squints. It’s adorable. “About two years? I think?” She scrunches her nose, but not out of embarrassment. It’s more like she’s trying to remember.

“You left home when you were seventeen?” I ask.

She tenses and nods. That’s the soft spot, and something tells me she’s telling me a lot with that confession.

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