Текст книги "Chaser"

Автор книги: Staci Hart

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

HYPNODICK

Cooper

“PERFECT, COOPER. HOLD IT RIGHT there.”

I hung off the ropes of my ship, staring off into the distance with Manhattan stretched up behind me. We were anchored just off Governor’s Island in the middle of a gorgeous sunset. The sky had shifted from crisp blue to golds and pinks, exploding in color against the clouds.

Five women and one dude stood on the deck – the photographer, her assistant, a stylist, a makeup artist, and editor, and a journalist. I’d changed clothes twice, had my hair retouched half a dozen times, answered fifty questions, had about a kabillion photos taken of me, and was in desperate need of a drink.

The camera clicked away as the boat rocked gently. The photographer lowered her lens and smiled. “All right. Can you do that thing with the rope again? Like, undo it and redo it again.”

I chuckled. “Sure.” I grabbed the mainsail’s halyard and pulled hand over hand to lower it.

The journalist, Elena, jotted in her notebook from where she sat on deck, leaning against the rope guardrail. “What are your favorite vacation spots?”

I unhooked the halyard and untied the stop knot before reversing the process. “Greece and Istanbul. There’s more culture and beauty in the Mediterranean than anywhere else in the world.”

“Have you ever sailed there?”

“I’ve sailed the Mediterranean, yes, but I haven’t crossed the Atlantic. Not yet, at least.”

“Why not?”

I smiled at her over my shoulder. “Because I don’t know if I’d ever come back.”

Everyone chuckled. I retied the knot and slipped the halyard in the groove, then grabbed the rope and hoisted the sail again.

“You know,” Elena said with a dramatic air, “you almost weren’t considered because of your connection to Astrid Thomas.”

“Is that so?” The sail hit the top of the mast, and I tacked it off. I hung my hands on my hips and looked up to make sure everything was right as the shutter clicked.

“It is. Our sources determined it wasn’t serious, though.”

I shot her a sardonic smile. “You’d know best, I’m sure.”

“The tabloids love to speculate about the women you’re seen with who aren’t Miss Thomas. A bit of a player, are you?”

“That’s what the gossip magazines say, so it must be true.”

She looked a little embarrassed.

I smiled at her, shooting for comforting, but she pressed on.

“It’s an easy assumption to make, wouldn’t you say?”

I shrugged. “It’s all about perspective, I suppose.”

The photographer lowered her camera and looked back through a few pictures. “These are great. Can I get you to take your shirt off, please?”

“Yeah, sure.” I reached behind me and grabbed the back of my shirt, pulling it over my head.

The camera clicked so many times, I didn’t know how she had any memory left on her card.

I tossed my shirt into the center of the deck and ran a hand through my hair. “Where do you want me now?”

The photographer’s assistant wet her lips and pushed her glasses up her nose.

She glanced around, coming to rest on the cockpit. “Come over here and stand at the wheel.”

I climbed off the deck and got behind the wheel, and the photographer lay in front of me.

Elena turned the page of her notebook. “So you received a degree from Columbia. Any plans for what’s next, career-wise?”

“Not if I can help it.”

She laughed and shook her head. “The heir to a billion-dollar fortune has no job aspirations? Your father doesn’t have big plans for you at Moore & Co?”

“No plans for now. Would you be an investment banker if you didn’t have to be?”

“No, but I’m terrible at math.” She jotted in her notebook. “So, are things with Astrid Thomas serious?”

I bristled. “Astrid’s a private woman, and I respect that. I’m sure you can imagine what it’s like to live in the public eye.”

She nodded, seeming to let it go. “Fair enough. So, what’s stopped you from settling down for good?”

“I guess it’s just never been the right time before, the right girl.”

“But there have been a lot of girls.”

I glanced over at her, smiling. “Yes, there have.”

“I mean, with so much time on your hands, I’d guess you’ve had girlfriends all over the world. If those know-it-all gossip mags have any truth to them, you’ve got one in every major city on every continent.”

“And a dozen kids, a secret Russian wedding, and a plastic surgery mishap.”

She snickered and switched directions, seeming to take the hint. “So, tell me about your dream girl.”

I thought about my perfect girl as I stared absently at Manhattan in the distance, thought about all the women I’d been with, all the women I knew. The dial stopped on one in particular. “Unassuming, with a sense of humor. Kind, generous, trustworthy. Loyal.” About five-foot-four with curly blond hair, freckles, and a brother who would annihilate me if he knew our secret. 

The admission caught me off guard, and I kept my face still to mask it. There was no stopping my pulse, which ticked a bit faster and harder than it had been.

Elena nodded. “What are you looking for in a relationship?”

I hadn’t really considered what I was looking for, since I hadn’t really considered a relationship before. No one had inspired that for me – the want to just be with someone. There were women whose company I enjoyed, don’t get me wrong. But I’d never needed any of them. It was always easy to walk away, so I did.

But in my life – The Life that was as lonely and separate as it was immersive and public – there was only one thing I wanted. Once I did think about it, the answer was simple.

“A best friend.”

“It’s that easy?”

“I don’t see why it should be hard. Who better to share your life with than your best friend?”

The photographer got up and looked around. “Can I get you stretched out here on this front part?” She motioned toward the bow.

“Yeah.” I hauled myself out of the cockpit and walked to the bow, lay down in the narrow space, and hung my arms in the ropes. One knee was up, my other leg stretched out in front of me in white linen pants, cuffed haphazardly

Her mouth hung open for a second before she disappeared behind the camera. “Oh, fuck – that’s perfect. Don’t move.” The camera went nuts. “Jana, bring the reflector over here. Hurry.”

Her assistant hustled over with a reflective panel.

“Yes, angle it a little more … there. Okay, Cooper, rub the back of your neck.”

I smirked and did it.

“Oh, my God,” she sang from behind the camera. “You’re going to get half our readers pregnant just by pointing that smile at them. It should come with its own warning.”

I full-on laughed at that. The camera went ballistic.

Elena had followed us up and was writing as she watched, smiling. “What are you going to do when you find your dream girl?”

“Who’s to say I haven’t already?”

She laughed. “All right, so what would you say to your dream girl, if you had the chance?”

I didn’t know how to respond. Maggie’s face was on my mind – she was the only inspiration I could find to formulate an answer. I thought about what she’d been through, thought about all the things I wanted to show her. To save her from and give her. The confession poured out of me.

“I’ve been around the world, and I thought I’d seen everything it had to offer until that night, until I saw you. In all my life, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, not standing in the Blue Mosque or the Taj Mahal. Not in the streets of Rome or canals of Venice. Making you smile gives me life. Making you laugh gives me hope. Making you happy is all I want, other than to keep you.”

The photographer had lowered her camera, and Elena’s pen was still as everyone watched me. My chest ached – I felt raw, exposed.

So I threw The Smile at them.

“Hey, you asked.” And then I stood, keeping my back to the water as they watched, still gaping. I jerked my chin at the photographer. “Heads up.”

She snapped into action, raising her camera just as I backflipped off the bow with a whoop, hitting the chilly water feet first. I looked up as the bubbles dissipated and I could see the shape of my ship, the colors of the sky beautiful and distorted beyond the rippling surface, the sea around me wide and empty. And for a long moment, I stayed where I was in the solitude before swimming back to the air.

Maggie

My fingers flew on my keyboard that night, my brain tripping. I read over my response again to make sure I didn’t sound like an idiot. Yes, I would be available for an interview tomorrow. No, the notice wasn’t too short. That I was looking forward to meeting her, too.

I’d come home to a quiet apartment, all smiles. Went through my collection of delivery menus and ordered the best Thai curry I’d ever had. Freaked out when I’d gotten an interview request on a Sunday evening for an application I’d placed that morning.

Basically, I felt like I was standing on top of a mountain wearing a backpack full of hundred dollar bills.

I smiled and fired off the email before closing my laptop with a snap.

It was the job I wanted the most – Project Homestead. I’d need to put together a plan to prep, and I was grateful that the box of my teaching materials had already come from Jackson. I had my old textbooks and lesson plans and was ready to jump in, ready to get my head back in the game after so long off.

See, I’d only worked for a year out of college. When Jimmy and I got engaged over the summer, he urged me to quit so I could plan the wedding. Even before we were engaged, he made more than enough to cover our expenses, told me to hang onto whatever I earned teaching. That it was ‘my money.’ And thank God for that – I didn’t know how else I would have made it on my own once everything fell apart.

I’d always thought he just wanted to take care of me. It made me feel safe and cared for that he didn’t want me to worry about money. But looking back, I think he was just placating me, spoiling me like he would a child to keep me quiet and happy.

Everything looking back felt like a lie – I didn’t trust that a single thing he’d ever said to me was genuine. That every look was with the knowledge that I wasn’t his only girl, just his regular girl. That he’d been running around on me forever, and somehow, everyone knew except me. A spectacular show, that’s what it was. Once I found out, they all said that it was none of their business, that they didn’t want to intrude.

Southern manners, my ass.

In their defense, he seemed to have a regular set of girls – including my childhood best friend – and all of them knew about me. He never took them in public. It was all very discreet, nothing more than whispers and rumors. My best friend Brooke didn’t even know. Because God knew if she did, she’d have told me in an instant.

No, Jimmy was smart about it. And I was a fool for never questioning a thing he did.

I sighed and climbed out of bed, trying to push my thoughts away and focus on now. Now was so much easier. Simpler.

Now was a sexy boy toy. Now was Manhattan and Central Park and a job interview. A job interview I needed to pick out an outfit for.

I was elbow deep in business casual when my phone rang on my bed. I smiled when I scooped it up and found a picture of Brooke giving me moose ears and a kissy face.

I answered and held the phone in place with my shoulder. “Hey, Brookie.”

“Hey, Maggieboo. You free?”

“These days? Always. How are you?”

“Good. Just missing you. How’s New York treating you?”

“Pretty brilliantly. I kind of had an amazing day.” I held up a button-down to judge its worth. You can do better. I tossed it back in the pile.

“Tell me about your exciting adventures because I’ve got nothin’ to report except that I ran into Richard Peck at Joe’s bar. Remember how hot he used to be?”

“Uh, yeah. Everybody wanted some Dick.”

She snickered. “With a name like Dick Peck, you’d think he would’ve had a hard time getting laid. But I’m not even sure if he can see his junk without a mirror, never mind use it for pleasuring the ladies.”

A cackle shot out of me. “Oh, my God, Brooke.”

“Seriously, I watched him eat a twenty-ounce ribeye, a basket of onion rings, a side of chili fries, a giant piece of chocolate cake, and I think he drank a case of beer. The guy’s a mammoth.”

I shook my head, still chuckling. “Guess nobody sent him the memo that you can’t eat like a linebacker when you don’t work out like one. When he was a senior and I was a sophomore, I dreamed about that boy. West used to give me so much crap for it. He always knew what douche Dickie was, even though none of the rest of us could see it. Around here, they call that douchesparkle, and Dick’s was blinding.” I sorted through the pile of tops.

“Oh, man. It’s so true though,” she said with a laugh. “So, tell me about your brilliant day? Did it have anything to do with Cooper Moore?”

“You don’t always have to call him by his full name, you know?” I picked up a deep purple top with a little tie on the collar and eyed it.

“I can’t help it. It’s like calling Jared Leto just plain old ‘Jared’ or Michael Fassbender ‘Mike.’ I can’t do it.”

I laughed and tossed that one too. “He’s just a person like anybody else, Brooke.”

“Whatever. Tell me the details of your bangin’ sex life. Because Jackson is hot in every way aside from the kind that gets me laid.”

“Things are good. I saw Cooper earlier today, after I finished applying to a handful of jobs. I have an interview tomorrow with one, which is part of why I’m feeling extra amazing right now.”

“Ooh, that’s awesome. I hope it goes well! Now, tell me the story of Cooper Moore’s nakedness.”

I picked up a peach blouse, but it was too sheer. Tossed it back in the pile. “His nakedness was definitely one of the highlights of my day.”

She straight up giggled.

“I dunno, Brooke. He’s just damn fine and knows exactly what he’s doing. I mean, I’ve never been nailed so hard my knees go weak. Not before him.”

Brooke sighed. “I am so jealous.”

I shook my head, smiling as I picked up a cream blouse with a lace collar. Perfect. “It’s nice to not have any strings, you know? I don’t owe him anything, and he doesn’t owe me anything. No pressure, and I get to have my vagina rocked on the regular, for a little bit longer at least.”

“Right. The rules.” I could almost hear her rolling her eyes.

My face scrunched up. “What the hell, Brooke? Don’t you judge me.”

“I’m only slightly judging you. And not just because you let him bareback.”

I scoffed. “I’ve got an IUD, and he’s clean. There’s no reason to use condoms.”

“So you trust him with your sexual health but not with your heart?”

“Basically. You think West would kill him if he found out we were having sex? Imagine what he’d do if he found out Cooper gave me the clap.”

She chuckled. “I dunno, Mags. I think we should agree that one should never think twice about a gift such as Cooper Moore. I definitely don’t think I’d ever tell him I didn’t want to have meaningless sex with him anymore, or that he couldn’t take me to fancy dinners and hoity-toity Manhattan restaurants that you have to book months in advance.”

“Because then it could get serious, and I don’t want to get serious.”

“I’m just saying. You’re basically telling one of the sexiest men ever exactly what to do.”

“Sometimes he tells me what to do. In bed.”

She laughed. “I bet he does. How much longer until time’s up?”

“Two weeks.” A little flash of sadness shot through me, but I ignored it, focusing instead on which pants to wear.

“So what happens if you want to keep something going? What if he does?”

“Doesn’t matter if I want to or not. If I keep it going, there’s a chance I could fall for him.”

“You could fall for him anyway.”

I rolled my eyes as I folded the rejected clothes. “People don’t fall in love in a month.”

“That’s a pretty big presumption, Mags.”

“I just don’t get that sentiment. It’s part of why I don’t go bananas over romance novels. I mean, instant lust, that’s fine. I get that. I’ve felt that at the laundromat. Imagined gettin’ bent over a folding table by this gorgeous Persian guy. I might have propositioned him if he wasn’t sorting G-strings.”

“Were they his?”

“Wouldn’t have even mattered, so long as they weren’t his girlfriend’s.”

She laughed. “So you’ve experienced instalust, which makes it real. But since you haven’t experienced instalove, it can’t possibly be real. Sound right?”

“That about sums it up.”

“Oh, Maggie.” She sighed. “Instalust at the laundromat is way better than Dick Peck at Joe’s. You’re lucky you got out of here when you had the chance. You’d have been stuck here forever if you’d married Assface.”

We had a pact not to speak his name unless absolutely necessary. “Don’t remind me.”

“Is he still texting you?”

“At least once a week. Haven’t responded.”

“I see him here and there. I swear, every time, he pumps me for information like penny slots. Pop a question in, pull the lever, watch as my eyes roll around and around. I haven’t told him anything though other than to give it up. I maybe also threw my drink in his face on Friday night.”

I laughed, hoping it burned like hell. “Oh, that makes me happy.”

“I thought it might. So, what’s after Cooper Moore?”

“I dunno.” That sad feeling was back, and I brushed it away like a hornet. “I should just sleep around. Just be all about the D.”

“You told your fuck buddy that he couldn’t bang anybody else for a month. How the hell do you think you’re gonna be okay banging randos you meet in bars? I mean, do people even go to bars alone in New York without getting mugged?”

“Depends on what part of town, but it’s not like trying to run around Bangkok alone. Plus, West bought me a Taser, so I’m pretty sure between that and my lightning reflexes, I could fuck a sexual predator up.”

“He bought you a Taser?”

“Of course he did.”

“Well, at least you know he cares.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t exactly hide that light under a bush.”

She giggled. “So, what did you cross off your list this week?”

“Well, I’ve done most of the touristy stuff – finally did the Statue of Liberty and went to the Met Cloisters – but I’m getting to the point where the tourists are actually starting to bug me.”

“That’s so snobby. You really are turning into a New Yorker.”

“I know. But they’ll stand in the middle of the sidewalk in packs trying to look at a map and figure out where to go. Or like you’ll see groups all wearing matching T-shirts that just take up the entire sidewalk, and when they aren’t standing still, they walk slow as hell.”

“Eat any new weird stuff?”

I picked up the stack of tops and laid them back in the drawer. “Oh, we went to this one place called What the Kale where everything in the whole restaurant was made with kale. Like wraps in kale. Sandwiches, but instead of bread? Kale. Kale soup. Kale salad. Fried kale. Kale chips.”

“Did it at least taste good?”

I snorted. “Are you kidding? Superfood my ass. Everything tasted like dirt. No amount of butter can save that level of funk.”

“Damn hipsters.”

“I just left wanting fried chicken and french fries, or a corn dog. Really, anything fried would have done. I would have even settled for that smelly mac and cheese with gruyere.”

“Ew.” She chucked.

“I don’t really know what else. I’ve got this job interview tomorrow, and I’ve been doin’ a whole lotta nothing otherwise.”

“Liar. You’ve been doin’ a whole lotta Cooper Moore.”

I huffed and flopped back into bed, crossing my ankles as I adjusted the phone. “Call him Cooper, Brooke.”

“I can’t! Leave me alone!”

“It’s weird. Stop it.”

“Did you go to his fancy penthouse today?”

I smiled to myself. “Yeah, and then he came with me to read in the park.”

“That’s totally a date.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Was there kissing?”

“Nope,” I answered.

“Sensual touching?”

I laughed. “Not even a little.”

“Boring, but still a date,” she said flatly. “Do you think he’s interested in you for more than a booty call?”

“We’re talking about America’s Playboy. Of course not.”

“Okay, hypothetically, if he was into you, you really wouldn’t extend the four week rule?”

I hated this conversation, and we had it almost every time we talked. “How could I? There’s no universe that exists wherein I’m ready for a relationship, especially not with a sexy, rogue socialite.”

“You wouldn’t even be willing to try?”

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you, Brooke. I don’t trust myself or my feelings. I was a blind, naive fool with Jimmy. It’s painfully clear that I don’t know anything about relationships or love. How can I trust somebody else if I don’t even trust myself?”

She paused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push. I just want you to be happy and okay.”

I sighed. “So do I. But I’m happy, and I’m okay, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” I paused. “I miss you.”

She sighed. “You too. It’s just not the same with you gone.”

I stared at my Passion Pink toes. “I just had to get out of there.”

“I would have left too, honestly. Part of me wishes I had.”

My heart sank. “You’re doing the right thing, taking care of your grandma.”

She let out a long breath. “I know. She’s the only family I’ve got. But I still wish I could have come with you.”

“Me too. There’s so much to see and do, but I end up seeing and doing all by myself because everyone has real lives and real jobs.”

“Everyone except Cooper Moore.”

“Goddammit, Brooke.”

She snickered. “You should sightsee with him.”

“Have you not heard anything I’ve said? I’m not speaking German again, am I?”

“No comprende nada, Maggiecita!” she sang.

“No, you don’t understand, do you? Pushy ass.”

“I amuse you, don’t lie.”

I smiled. “Maybe a little.”

“Well, I just got to work, so I’ve gotta run. I love you. I’m glad you’re hanging in there like that cat on the poster in Mrs. Jensen’s fifth grade class.”

“Thanks, Brookie. I love you too. Make those tips.”

“Waitress extraordinaire. Nothing makes you feel like a boss quite like getting yelled at over pickles and mustard.”

“Just remember: Burgers and fries, nobody dies.”

She laughed. “Exactly. Bye, Mags.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone, feeling bummed. I couldn’t text Cooper again. I’d watched a million movies. My toes were already pretty, and I didn’t feel like reading. I was tired of being all by myself, but Lily had a show. Maybe Rose was off. And if not, I could always go to Habits.

I opened my door, feeling a million times better when I found Rose on the couch watching TV. Her black hair was in a knot on top of her head, her hand was in a bowl of popcorn, and I think she was still in her pajamas – black spanky shorts, a gray V-neck, and dark purple knee socks.

“Hey, Mags,” she said around a mouthful of popcorn.

“Thank God you’re home.” I plopped down on the couch next to her and smiled when I looked at the TV screen. “Oooh, Clueless. Good one, Rosie. Turn it up.”

“You guys are all deaf.” She grabbed the remote and adjusted the volume.

“You and Patrick have super senses or something.”

She made a face. “This is why my room sounds like a wind tunnel ninety percent of the time.”

I chuckled and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “You off tonight?”

She smiled happily and recrossed her ankles on the coffee table. “Sure am, which is why I won’t be putting on a bra or makeup.”

“Mind if I keep you company?”

“I’d love nothing more. Bring It On is up next, and then Drop Dead Gorgeous. I’m feeling the Kirsten Dunst tonight.”

“Drop Dead Gorgeous?”

“Uh, hell yeah. You’ve never seen it?”

“I’ve never even heard of it.”

She sat up a little straighter with her face lit up. “Oh, you are in for a treat. It’s one of the most hilariously twisted movies I’ve ever seen, about a beauty pageant in Minnesota where all the contestants get offed one by one.”

I grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and settled in. “That sounds terrible. I can’t wait.”

“I’ve got chocolate and whiskey, too. Girl’s night. Fuck yeah.” She raised her hand for a high five, and I slapped it gratefully.

“Fuck yeah.”

Cooper

Shelby poured us another round as West kicked his head back and laughed. Patrick and I sat on either side of him at Habits that night.

Lily was at a show, and Rose was off work, so when West said he wanted to have drinks, there was no way I’d refuse.

Everything was changing, shifting. Drifting. Not that it was a bad thing. I just knew that these moments would spread even further apart. I pushed away the thought that one day we wouldn’t meet this way at all anymore – like it was normal, easy.

I raised my glass. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks, West.”

“Alone, at least,” Patrick added.

“I know,” he conceded and picked up his whiskey. “But I’m not gonna apologize.”

I shook my head and picked up the fresh scotch. “All in, huh?”

“I don’t know how to operate any other way. Not when it comes to Lily.”

Patrick leaned on the bar. “All settled down and grown up.”

West looked into his drink and shook the ice around. “It’s so strange, but it’s the most natural thing. I’ve never been with anyone who I couldn’t get enough of. I think I could spend every waking minute with her, sleeping ones too, and never get my fill.”

I thought of Maggie, about how addicted I was to her. Two more weeks. The clocked ticked down, and all I could do was watch.

Patrick took a long pull of his drink and set it down. “I know the feeling.”

We always tried to come on days we knew Rose wasn’t there so he could speak freely – and so he’d pay attention. When Rose was around, he didn’t always function at capacity.

They’d had a hot and heavy relationship, once they got together. Then Patrick flipped out. He’d been through enough in his life to know what it meant to be hurt, and when he realized how he really felt about Rose, he bailed. And then he blew the bridge up behind him. He’d never forgiven himself for it, either.

West shook his head. “Just talk to her, Trick.”

He scratched his tattooed neck. “You know that doesn’t do any good, man. She’s done with me. I’ve got to find a way to let it go. I just don’t know how.”

West leaned on the bar. “Have you thought about, I don’t know, avoiding her?”

His eyes were on his tattooed fingers as he spun his glass around. “I’d never leave the house. She’s everywhere.”

West nodded and turned to me. “Tell us some stories, Coop. There’s comfort in that you’re still out in the world, unaffected by matters of the heart while Tricky and I swoon and pine.”

I shrugged, scrambling to think of a way out of the conversation. “Not much to report.”

Both of them raised an eyebrow at me.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“What’s going on with Astrid?” West asked.

“The usual.”

Patrick eyed me. “And you don’t have any girls on the side?”

I took a drink, wishing I could tell them about Maggie, wishing she were a stranger to them.

“Ha.” West looked at Patrick. “He does, but the question is, why doesn’t he want to tell us?”

Patrick smirked. “Interesting.”

“It’s nothing. Just a fling.”

West shifted to look at me full on. “Hang on, a fling? As in one?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Patrick laughed. “Well, don’t hold out. Who is she? A supermodel? Fuck, if they don’t have the longest legs.”

West nodded his respect.

“She’s just a chick I know. It’s just a hook up.” All part of the rules.

“So, what’s her deal? What’s the draw?” West asked.

The list was long, but I rolled through it looking for points I could share that would be juicy enough get them off my back. “Well, she hasn’t been with a lot of guys, so I’ve been educating her.”

Patrick laughed. “Showing her the ropes.”

“The ins and outs,” West added with a snicker.

I laughed, mostly because he was snickering about his sister. “There’s something about it that’s like a drug. To just own her like that, to show her something she’s never experienced. I never get sick of that look on her face. Like I blew her mind.”

“Years of practice paying off,” West said.

“What can I say. I’m a man of many talents.”

Patrick shook his head. “I wish I could … I don’t know. Give a fuck about another girl. I mean, I’m surrounded by hot chicks every day. Chicks I could take home with a word. Like Ronnie.”

West and I made appreciative noises. Ronnie was a tattoo artist at Tonic, where Patrick worked – a smoking hot, cat-eyed, raven-haired badass, covered in tattoos, with piercings that were somehow light and feminine, gauges, lip ring. She even had her septum pierced, which I usually hated. But she wore it well. And she wanted a piece of Patrick, bad.

His mistake was … well, he’d made a lot of mistakes. After he dumped Rose like an idiot, he brought Ronnie to Habits in a display of next-level dumbfuckery. I don’t know what he’d been thinking. But it was the final blow for Rose, and Ronnie hadn’t ever given him up.

Patrick took a drink and continued. “I just can’t, you know? It’s like once I had a taste, nothing else will satisfy my thirst. I’ve been thirsty for six months, and I still can’t think about being with anyone else. It’s fucked up.”

West picked up his drink. “Maybe one day you just meet a girl with a magical ass. Like she has some sorcery about her that renders every other ass null and void.”

Patrick laughed. “Voodoo Pussy. No other pussy will do. It’ll haunt you until you die.”

West snorted. “Bewitching Box.”

“Hexing Hole.” I took a drink, and we all snickered like junior high kids. “Do you think there’s a man-version of that? Like Incredicock.”

“Witching Wang.” Patrick shot.

“Jackhammer Juju.” West added.

“Hypnodick. Dicknotize her with it,” I said.

We laughed hard enough that Shelby shook her head at us from down the bar, smiling.

The idea made so much sense to me. “So instead of soul mates, you’re fuck mates.” I nodded and took a drink. “I can get behind this theory.”

West smiled. “If Lily was the only woman I slept with for the rest of my life, I could die happy.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I hear about it. Like, every fucking night.”

I shook my head at him. “You’ve got to get earplugs or something, Trick.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried, but they bug me, or they fall out. Can’t listen to music because I’ll actually listen to it. And I keep getting these white noise machines, but I can’t get one to work for more than twenty-four hours.”

West made a face. “Weird, man. Maybe we should call an electrician.”

“Whatever. It would just be nice if you could keep that shit between nine a.m. and eleven at night.”

West shrugged. “Can’t say I’m sorry.”

Patrick sighed.

“It’s so weird, you know? Being with Lily. All these years she’s been such a big part of my life, and I had no idea what I was missing. Everything came together, and now it all makes sense. I hope I never stop feeling like I do. Like I know exactly what I’m doing and what I need. Like my life is completely full because of her.” He emptied his drink and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get all sentimental. It’s just that I’ve never felt like this. Like I can’t see outside of what I’m experiencing because it’s so overwhelmingly good.”