“You said you’d call, but I never heard from you,” she purrs. Like a flipping kitten. “Maybe it’s fate that I’m seeing you now. We should get together again. Maybe go to that beach house we did last time. Remember how we didn’t come up for air?”
I roll my eyes and turn away, ready to head for my apartment again when he reaches out and grabs my arm. “Ruby, wait.”
I sigh, but the other chick doesn’t even fucking register that he’s talking to me. “Ruby? My name’s not Ruby…”
His patience waning, he turns back to her and holds up a finger, but he doesn’t let go of my arm. “I know, Tess. Just give me a minute, okay?”
She smiles and bats her lashes, completely unfazed by me now that he’s proven he remembers her name.
I sigh again, this time heavily, but he steps toward me and lowers his voice. “Just think about it, okay? You’re obviously smart, and I’m in real need of some brains around the office. I’d write it up like an internship, and I can promise, an internship with me will get you a job at just about any firm you want when you graduate.”
I’m about to say I’ll consider it when Tess talks over me.
“Cap, are you ready? Want to go get a drink?”
I smile sardonically. Maybe Tess’s interruption is a sign. I alter my answer to go with the feeling I have. I’ve always followed my gut, and it’s gotten me this far. No reason to stop now. “Bye, Cap.”
I gently pull my arm from his hand and walk down the block toward my apartment. He’s silent for a while, but right before I round the corner, he yells one more time, “Just think about it!”
I wave a hand over my shoulder and smile.
The day I work for Caplin Hawkins will be no sooner than the day pigs fly.
Cap
It’s Sunday night, and Bar Louie is packed and the women plentiful as I scoot my way through the crowd toward the bar. There’s a brunette with some of the nicest tits I’ve ever seen making eyes at me from one of the booths to the right, but I’m about fifteen minutes late, so I know Trent and Quince will be waiting.
I give her a wink and a jerk of my chin, though, just a little something to keep her on the hook, and continue walking on my way to my friends.
I’ve been late more than once because of a woman, and let’s just say the guys weren’t fucking thrilled.
I’d do it again, it’s not like I’m that considerate, but I can hardly get these bozos to go anywhere without their ladies, and the last thing I want to do is ruin the night from the start. If I wanted to do that, I would have kept my date with Yvette instead of meeting with these fuckers in the first place.
Honestly, even I’m a bit surprised I didn’t keep my date with Yvette tonight or take Tess up on her drink offer earlier today, but I’m just writing off my lack of interest as long work hours and the constant headache having Hell-ary in my office has caused me.
And Ruby…
I shake off the ridiculous thought. I mean, of course I’m interested in Ruby. Hell, I’m very interested in Ruby. Even the way her sweet little name rolls off my tongue has my cock threatening to stand at attention.
But I’ve never been one to put all my eggs in one beautiful basket.
I’m more of a connoisseur of all women than a committer to one woman.
Quince is looking my direction and spots me first, bumping Trent with an elbow so he turns around as I sidle up to the bar.
I wave a hand at the bartender, Sally, a woman who knows both my drink order and my cock, and watch as she drops the customer she’s taking care of like a hot potato to start working on making my rum and Coke.
“Nice of you to show up,” Trent says, and it’s not a surprise. He’s definitely the pickier of the two of them. Quince is more happy-go-lucky—unless I’m sleeping with his ex-girlfriend, but that’s a different story entirely.
“Sorry, ladies. I was working on five important cases, and one somewhat important one.”
Trent rolls his eyes. “I swear I don’t understand how you’re so successful. How can you talk about your clients like that?”
I laugh and pat him on the head patronizingly. “I didn’t say which client is the unimportant one, Trent. That’s how.”
“You tell me I’m unimportant all the time,” Quince interjects.
Trent agrees, “Me too.”
“Yeah, well, twenty years of friendship means I’ve got you assholes locked down. I can do whatever I want with you.”
Trent shakes his head and takes a pull of his fancy drink. “You’re really something, Cap, you know that?”
I nod as Sally approaches with my drink, and a smile grows on her face. “Oh, I know.”
“Hey, Cap,” Sally says, setting down my drink on the backlit bar and leaning forward enough that her tits push deliciously together. “How are you?”
“I’m good, honey. Really good now that I’m laying eyes on you.”
She bites her lip.
“You look good.”
“You look good too,” she replies. “I get off at three tonight. Maybe we can—”
Trent sighs, and internally, I groan. As much as I love the idea of sticking my face between Sally’s tits—and legs—tonight is supposed to be a boys’ night.
As gently as possible, I cut her off at the pass. “Sorry, honey. Spending the night with my boys tonight. But we should get together soon. I’ll call you, okay?”
“Don’t wait too long,” she says with a little flip of her hair, turning around and strutting meaningfully to the other side of the bar. I groan and slap Trent on the back of the head.
“Hey!” he snaps.
“Just punishing you for our friendship,” I remark. “If you hadn’t spoken to me all those years ago, I’d have her on her back with her tits in my mouth, my dick—”
“God almighty, stop. We get it. We really, really get it,” Trent says while covering his eyes.
Quince chimes in with a similar sentiment. “My brain feels burned from the imagery I won’t be able to unsee.”
“You guys should be thankful!” I shout. “Now you can visualize Sally while you’re fucking the women you’ve been fucking over and over again. Mix it up a little bit.”
“Fuck that,” Trent snaps. “I don’t need to visualize anyone else but Greer.”
Quince nods enthusiastically. “Same.”
I raise my eyebrows, and he rolls his eyes. “But with Emory, you asshole.”
“Right,” I say through a snort. “I’m sure it’s not getting stale fucking in the missionary position with the lights off at all.”
“Isn’t this getting old? I mean, aren’t you tired, man? All the flirting, all the work, all the different women?” Quince asks, and I squint.
“Getting old?” I ask incredulously. “Fuck no. I think maybe you’re getting old.”
“I see you’re going full-on dickhead tonight.” Quince’s smile fades as he grabs his beer from the bar and takes a swig. “I think maybe it’s time for me to head home.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “Are you really upset over that? Jesus, Quince, you need to toughen up.”