Page 19 of Declan
“That’s the fucking question, isn’t it? I said some shit to her I shouldn’t have, and now she seems to want nothing to do with me.” He winces in sympathy, then glances in the mirror to double-check his perfect hair is still perfect.
“And I take it you’ve tried to fix it, and nada?”
“Yes, I fucking tried to fix it. I apologized over and over. But she doesn’t look at me the same anymore.”
“What do you really want from her? Because the days of her rubbing up on you at work are over, aren’t they?”
“That’s the fucking problem. I didn’t want it to be over. I just wanted to be something different, someone, who could be with a woman like her. And for her to stop spending every free minute in clubs. I’m never going to be the kind of guy that can live that life. I don’t really like going out that much.”
Zach puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. “Then maybe she’s not the right choice for you. Have you thought of that? That you should be with someone that you don’t need to change for?”
“I want her.”
“You might want her, but after three fucking years, I think that ship has sailed, brother. Maybe you need to realize that she’s not the woman for you and actually show some fucking interest at these clubs. There are dozens of women who would happily go home with you. Why the fuck aren’t you spending time with one of them? Because Cara? That’s not gonna happen.”
IT’ S NOT GONNA HAPPEN. THOSE WORDS RING THROUGH MY HEAD OVER AND OVER AS I DRIVE US TO this new club, Zach riding shotgun. The man has a car as expensive as mine, and he’d still rather ride shotgun in Jonas’s minivan than drive himself.
The sexy red sign above the clubs door flashes Curves Ahead. It’s clear by the line stretching down the block it’s gonna be fucking hot in there. “Where did you hear about this place again?”
“Colton mentioned it to me earlier today. He said we might enjoy it. Apparently, he’s an investor. I have no fucking idea when that happened.” It’s news to me too, but not surprising. Colt has a fuck of a lot going on.
I pull up to the valet, my Mercedes drawing everyone’s attention as we pass the line. At first, I bought it for the attention it brought me. It’s flashy as fuck and turns heads everywhere I go. It felt good to be seen. But that wore off fairly quickly. I’m not sure who I was trying to impress with the car, but it’s got one feature that keeps me driving it. It goes fast. Really fucking fast. I love taking it to the track and opening it up. Seeing how far I can push it. I think I’ve always been a bit of a thrill seeker, but with money came the opportunity to feed the need. And feed it I do, with many, many cars.
I follow Zach up the steps to the velvet rope. The man standing there clocks us from our heads to our toes. I can see him mentally calculating the value of my watch and Zach’s and coming up with dollar signs. Though my $300,000 car was probably hint enough that we’re high rollers. He opens the rope and ushers us in with a smile.
Now, this is my kind of club. The music is loud and throbbing, which is typical. But the women on raised platforms around the room aren’t. They’re lush, curves overflowing, bellies and thighs on display. They’re all sexy, all moving to the bass line. The sign out front makes a lot more sense now. Zach looks like it’s Christmas morning. Laughing, I’m about to guide him to a booth when one of the waitresses approaches us.
“Gentlemen. Why don’t you join me in our VIP area?”
Yep. They clocked us. We follow her to a raised area at the back of the club, passing two very large security guys who give us a nod. We relax back on the black velvet couch as she hurries away to grab us a bottle of Macallan 30.
“It always feels like these VIP areas are missing the point of coming to a club, aren’t they? I mean, the women are down there. We’re up here. It just doesn’t compute.”
Zach grins, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he surveys the tops of the heads in the full crowd. There are plenty of eyes on us, and more than one woman is smiling. “It’s not about the women being up here. It’s about having them see us up here. And if I want one, all I have to do is call her over.”
“You sound like a douchebag.” He laughs but doesn’t disagree. We are on display up here. I wonder why they do that? “Do most VIPs want to be seen? I don’t really get it.”
Zach drops the arm, turning from playboy to brother. “I think it’s a little like fishing, for the club and for us.”
“How so? And what the fuck do you know about fishing?” The man lived his whole life in this city.
“I saw it on TV once. Did you know people fucking compete for fishing titles?”
“That’s the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” What exactly is the competition? Like, is the heaviest fish the winner? Or is it like dogs, and there are certain breed details they’re looking for? Are there breeds of fish? Is the plural of fish fishes? Zach’s voice stops me from getting lost thinking about fishing. Thank fuck.
“Right? Anyway. For the club, the VIP section is a moneymaker. There’s an expectation we’ll order premium and tip well. But for the VIPs, it’s an opportunity to flaunt their wealth. To reel in the people they want.”
“Reel in?” More fishing. “You mean women?”
“Can be. Or men. If you’re after a fuck or some arm candy for the night. But those guys,” he says, nodding towards a table full of suits, “aren’t here for women. They’re here to close a deal. They’re giving their clients what they think they want. It’s calculated. Most clubs are.”
“That’s cold.”
He shrugs, winking at the waitress as she sets down our bottle and glasses, pouring us a finger each. “Maybe. But it’s all marketing. People coming in here want something. They’re looking for a hookup, or maybe they want to dance, or maybe they just want to be seen. They market themselves appropriately. Take her, for example.” He points to a woman around our age in a strappy gold dress. “She’s on the prowl tonight.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” I don’t see anything different about her. She looks the same as all the other women in here.
“She’s dancing, just like the others, but watch her face. She’s calculating, looking for the audience, showing off for the men she’s targeting. Right now, that’s us.”
