The idiot didn’t even realize what he said.
“You like Jaclyn’s ass? I know what you mean. I’d kill to get mine looking like that.”
Dylan looked at Richard, his mouth curling up. “Man, you seem fucking awesome.” His gaze dropped to the drink in his hand for a second before he looked back up. “So I’m gonna level with you. I’m not into dudes.”
Richard feigned utter shock. “Oh, you’re not gay? Then why did you accept my invite?”
Dylan leaned in, whispering much louder than he likely realized. “Because Jaclyn thinks I’m gay.”
Richard scooted closer, lowering his head next to Dylan’s, but not his voice. “And why do you want Jaclyn to think you’re gay? Is it because she’s a total terror to straight men?”
Richard felt the sting of a whipped napkin corner hit the top of his head, and he started laughing.
Dylan laughed too, apparently reacting to Richard’s candor. “Is she?” He sat up again and slowly nodded. “Yeah, I’ll bet that bitch is.”
They both heard a loud gasp from the next booth, but Richard clinked Dylan’s glass with his, urging him to drink and continue.
Dylan grinned after taking a sip. “Girls like her want one thing from guys like me. They want to feel safe while they’re slumming. But they also want to feel like they’re in charge, like they’re calling all the fucking shots. Well, by making her think I’m a queen, I’m getting a laugh, her cash, and can cop a feel whenever the hell I want. You know, just biding my time.”
Richard sat tall, ready to win this bet with flying rainbow colors, but suppressed his glee. He had this guy by the balls. “Biding your time?”
This would be the first of many ways he’d show the skeptical and apprehensive Ms. Long that he was a man she could trust. Perhaps the only man she could trust. She had to be hanging on every word as Dylan hung himself out to dry.
But Richard needed to pin down what all the lying was about. Her money was always a high contender on the list, but something about this guy’s scheme seemed scuzzier. And whatever Dylan was about to come clean with, Richard knew it would turn the tide. He just didn’t realize it would unleash a tsunami.
“Yeah,” Dylan said, puffing out his chest. “She thinks I’m an idiot. That I have no idea she’s some spoiled rich bitch living off Daddy’s money. Well, I’m on to her. She never uses a credit card. Always flashes crisp bills fresh from the ATM. Shorts me every fucking time.”
“She doesn’t pay you?” Richard caught Jaclyn glaring at him from over the seat back with a “no fucking way” face. He shook his head slightly at her, demanding she sit back and listen.
“Let’s just say she doesn’t pay me what I’m owed.” Dylan sipped slowly, eyeing Richard over the rim of his glass, apparently sizing up the man on the other side of his confessional. “Do you know who she is?”
Hmm, tough question. “No,” he said. “Girls like that . . . they never let anyone close enough to know who they really are.”
Dylan chuckled. “Well, I do. She’s Jaclyn fucking Long.”
Richard stayed casual and oblivious, shrugging his shoulders without a word.
“The girl whose dad owns half of Dallas.”
When Richard continued to appear clueless, Dylan froze, his body language tight with suspicion.
Needing to keep him loose, Richard sat back and spread his hands wide. “But I’m from out of town.”
“Oh, right. Well, I’m about to take over this town. Grab Daddy by the balls as she wraps her lips around my dick.”
“Really? Why would she do that if she thinks you’re gay?”
Dylan pursed his lips with a look Richard could spot a mile away. The obnoxious pride of a guy who thinks he’s smarter than he actually is. He removed a small vial from his jeans and shook it, rattling the tiny pills inside. “Let’s just say I slip her one of these little babies, and I’ve got her right where I want her.”
When Richard gave him a curious look and opened his hand, Dylan dropped the miniature bottle into his palm.
Richard studied the contents, then nodded. “I see. Slip her a mickey and make her all yours?” He glanced up to see Dylan give him a wary look, so he said quickly, “Not judging. Sounds like you’re just doing what you gotta do to get what’s coming to you.”
Seeing Jaclyn fuming in the booth next to them, ready to pounce, Richard piped her down with a determined shake of his head. This was too important, and he was so close.
This was bigger than the lowlife locker-room boasting he’d anticipated. This was sadistic. And Jaclyn needed to hear every sick, twisted word. Otherwise, she’d never believe him. Likewise, Richard needed to know every move in the douchebag’s playbook. Prepare for the worst. No matter what, he had to ensure that nothing stood between him and his own plans.
Dylan swiped the vial back and laughed. “Jesus. You almost make it sound romantic.” Rolling the bottle back and forth, he watched the little pearly beads roll over each other. “I’ve come so fucking close to her water bottle . . . it’s just a matter of time. She takes a sip, and I show her who’s boss, then we’ll send Daddy the clip.” He slipped the vial back into his pocket and then slammed the table with his palm. “Payday.”
“Video clip of what?” God bless this brainless bastard for bragging. But did he just say we?
Dylan’s lascivious grin spread even wider, followed by a chuckle. “Of me splitting her open and fucking her fat ass.”
Yes. That was the last nail in the coffin Richard needed. He scooted out of the booth, ready to pull Jaclyn’s heartbroken body into his wide-open arms.
But he’d stood up too late.
Jaclyn was standing at the table, smoke practically pouring from her ears and a half-crazed expression on her face. He didn’t know what to expect, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the two words she blurted out.
Assuming a boxer’s stance, she faced Dylan, white knuckled and fuming. “Fat ass?”
Shit. She’s a fighter. Of course she’ll fight. What the hell was I thinking?
Richard grabbed her arms, holding her back. Unable to help himself, he whispered, “Fat ass? Really? That’s your takeaway from his criminal confession?”
She shrugged off his criticism.
Dylan looked up, as wide-eyed as his inebriation would allow. “Heyyy, Jaclyn. Girl, when did you get here?” He struggled, trying to hoist himself from the booth.
“I’ve been here the whole time,” she spat out. “And I heard every word of your ludicrous plan, you asshole.”
“Asshole?” Dylan’s eyes flew open wide as he jumped up, but Richard shot out his arm to shove him back to his seat.
“No.” Jaclyn cut in, her voice quiet but deathly cold, the word meant for no one but Richard.
Dumbfounded, he cocked his head as he caught her eye. She can’t be serious.
Something in her gaze was tangible. Richard could feel what she wanted, reading volumes in that one serious-as-a-heart-attack glance. But he shook it off, relying on his disbelief and his caveman determination to pummel the guy himself.
Dylan finally managed to push himself to his feet.