Exquisitely Yours: A Sin City Tale Page 14

  Do I regret sleeping with him? Absolutely not.

  Am I looking to make him my boyfriend? Absolutely not.

  Would I mind being worked into his rotation? Absolutely not.

  Stupid girl. Don’t lie to yourself. You would absolutely mind. You don’t do casual sex, Jess. You’ve never been the type of woman to easily toss up the booty.

  For that reason alone, Daniel must remain in the one-night category.

  One. Great. Night.

  I tuck Daniel away into the recesses of my mind and walk into El Dorado Cantina. The Mexican restaurant where I’m meeting Dominique. It’s small, and dimly lit. Tin pendant lights with colorful glass hang above the tables and red satin rosettes cover the walls. El Dorado Cantina is a local’s place, a little off the beaten path, and next to a strip club, but it has the best lobster tacos. Ceviche that tastes like the shrimp was caught an hour earlier, guacamole made fresh at the table, and the most potent guava margaritas this side of the border.

  I’m immediately greeted by an older woman. Her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, wearing an off-the-shoulder white linen blouse paired with a layered skirt embroidered with colorful flowers.

  “Hola, senorita. Are you waiting for someone, or will you be dining by yourself today?”

  “I’m meeting my friend. She should be here already.” I swivel my head to look around the small space and smile when I spot Dominique at the bar lifting an orange-colored margarita in my direction.

  “There she is, thank you.” I leave the waitress, walking toward Dominique at the bar. Her dark brown skin is more burnished bronze than cocoa under the cool bar lights, and the long micro braids elegantly streaked with varying shades of red are half up, gathered into a knot on top of her head and half down. The style showcases her features—deep-set eyes, high regal forehead, cheekbones slightly flared and well-defined— it’s a striking face. One that stops people dead in their tracks when she walks by.

  “Whhhhhat up, soror?” Dominique squeals and stands from her barstool, wrapping me in an easy hug. When she pulls back, I take in the effortless plain white tank top, cutoff jean shorts and stylish, flowy kimono with envy. Dom is all unique swag and panache while I’m more safe and socially acceptable.

  Yin to my yang, remember?

  My family is more formal, extending hands and dolling out air-kisses. Dominique is the exact opposite. Her personality is big and in your face. To Dom, everyone is family, and she’s known them for years. It’s part of her charm. One of the things that draws people in.

  “Heeeeey, girl.” A giggle bubbles up my throat because I’m so happy she’s here, and that we finally get to connect. It’s been way too long.

  “Damn, that ‘hey, girl’ was weak?” She pulls back. “You okay, Jess?” Worried eyes search my face. “Even in our text messages you’ve seemed a little off lately.”

  Since Mexico, I’ve felt different. Aware of myself in a way that I’ve never been before. It’s exhilarating and foreign and, if I’m honest, deep down I’m terrified. What does the world look like if I’m unfocused? Not in control? What happens if I call my dad and ask for a job in the family business? A job that three weeks ago I turned down on principle because I wanted to be a nameless, faceless Johnson instead of owning my legacy.

  A week ago, I did the unthinkable. I changed my mind, veered off course, and just like I did the night of the wedding, I decided to try something new—something different. I gave my boss notice and asked Daddy if his offer was still on the table, and it was with the caveat that I move through the process—panel interview, background check, probation—like any other candidate.

  We break apart and take our seats, swiveling to face each other.

  “I’m fine. You know me,” I say brushing off the question with a purposefully light tone.

  “Exactly. I. Know. You. So, spill it,” she says. I get a quick reprieve from the inquisition when she turns to face the bar.

  “Barkeep,” she calls in a sing-song voice. “Can you get me another one of these guava margaritas and two shots of Don Julio Silver?”

  “I got you, Dom,” the bartender rumbles, giving her a flirty wink she doesn’t acknowledge. Instead, she turns back to me.

  “Where were we?” She taps an index finger across glossy lips. “That’s right. You were going to tell me what’s got you wound up so tight.”

  I try to run a hand through my hair but realize it’s pulled back in a tight bun at the nape of my neck. I just kind of awkwardly play it off and grab her drink. “I’m good. Can’t I just want to see you?” I say, eyeing her over the rim of the glass as I take a sip.

  Good grief, that’s strong.

  “Absolutely, you can just want to see me, but that tight-ass bun and stiff-ass walk tell me something different. Is it your mom again?”

  “No. Since I moved out, she’s been surprisingly…” I stall, searching for the right word. “Tame.”

  “Is it the job? I thought you really liked the hospital.”

  “I did… I do…” I sigh and try to push down the anxiety that’s been mounting daily since I gave notice.

  When I’d finally graduated from college with a BA in business management, I’d wanted away from the last name Johnson. I thought going into a field a complete one-eighty from the casino industry would give me the independence I needed from Daddy and Jake.

  I liked it at first. As the weeks and months passed it began to feel like an exercise in mediocrity. I don’t work on the medical side of the business where people save lives. I work on the accounting side. Where help comes with a cost that feels sycophantic and wrong.

  Lately, I’ve had this itch, an inkling that there’s a better way to earn a living. I could run a casino with my eyes closed. Daddy made sure of that.

  And then there’s Daniel Xu, or should that be was? I have no idea. What I do know is my thoughts of him dominate the majority of my day and that in any given hour I reluctantly teeter-totter between reaching out and pretending he doesn’t exist, that he never existed. In the light of a dim bar I can at least reluctantly admit that I naively hoped he’d look me up when we got home.

  Is that, like, his thing?

  Love ’em hard, and wet, and dirty until their voices are hoarse from screaming and their bodies periodically spasm from aftershocks and their legs literally shake the following morning when they try to walk.

  Who is they, Jess? That’s what he did to you. It’s been three weeks since the wedding and the best sex of your life but who’s counting? Not you. You’ve already forgotten it. No, you forgot about it that following morning.

  I so haven’t forgotten what it felt like to have him over me, or under me, licking me in places that days later still accelerates my heart rate just thinking about it.

  “What is that? A blush? Now I really need the deets. Your aura is giving me big D, well-boned energy.” She bounces excitedly in her seat, arms pumping up and down. “Give me details. What he looks like. What he smells like. Is he packing?” She shakes her shoulders in a cute shimmy.

  “Oh my God.” I take a deep pull of the drink, coughing as it goes down. What is this, petrol? “Would you be quiet?”

  “Why?” she says louder with a magnified shrug. “We’re literally at the bar, in a restaurant next to a strip club. I bet good money they hear all kinds of freaky stuff.”

  Dom waggles her eyebrows pointedly at the bartender as he slides a guava margarita across the bar and places two shots of tequila between us.

  “Thank you,” we answer simultaneously.

  “And can we have some chips and salsa please?” Dominique asks, rolling exaggerated eyes at me.

  “Did you ladies want the happy hour menu?” By ‘you ladies’ he means Dominique.

  Jasper, according to the name tag on his chest, is thirsty as hell and Dom just might be the fountain to quench his thirst. He’s onl
y taken his eyes off her long enough to make a drink and deliver it to the opposite end of the bar.

  Right now, he’s front and center. Full lips spread in a sexy grin. “It’s only appetizers at the bar.”

  “Small and quick,” Dominque says, winking at Jasper. “Nice to know how you roll.”

  Jasper takes her ribbing in stride with a light chuckle, but his gaze catches Dominique’s and holds it.

  “You know exactly how I roll, Dom. If memory serves, quick wasn’t necessarily a deterrent,” he says, retrieving two menus from a slot beside the cash register, handing them to us. “Sometimes all you need is a minute and some well-placed determination.”

  In contrast to his light words, his gaze is heavy, and I have the distinct impression that this isn’t the first time they’ve played this game.

  Who will win this round ?

  Dom?

  Jasper?

  Dooooom rounding the corner for the win…and oh my. This is different. Dominique drops her eyes first.

  “Touché,” she says a little quieter and a lot more reserved. Pigs have apparently sprouted angelic wings and dot the horizon because I’ve never seen Dom go quiet for anyone.

  Jasper steps away quickly, returning with a bowl of chips and a trio of green and red salsa and beans. “Can I get anything else for you ladies, or do you need a minute with the menu?”

  “I need a couple of minutes, please,” I mumble.

  “No problem. I’ll swing by in a couple.”

  When he walks to the other side of the bar, Dominique visibly sags in relief eyeing Jasper’s broad back as he serves another group.

  “What was that all about?” I ask.

  “It was…” She stares in Jasper’s direction for a second longer. Perfectly shaped brows lower and settle into a contemplative frown. “Nothing. He is…no one and you saw nothing.”

  And I call bull. I can’t say exactly what I did see but it isn’t nothing. “You know the friend thing,” I say, waving a finger between us, “goes both ways, right? I can listen too.”

  “I know, Jess.” Dominique groans. Her pretty features suspend between emotional disclosure and apathy. As the seconds tick by, I’m not sure if she’ll divulge or hold her words captive behind fake smiles and an even faker nonchalance. With Dom, there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll go either way.

  When she offers a smile that lights her eyes with a sad wariness, I know that this time I’ll get the story.

  “Quick rundown is, six months ago, I met a guy. We had a drink at a bar in Zanzibar of all places. And a handful of moments that…” She stops talking just long enough to pull her bottom lip into her mouth. Thoughts or memories ruffling the smooth planes of her face. Dom clears her throat before she starts again. “Said guy was an expat who mentioned Las Vegas might be his next stop and, lo and behold, I walk in here today to find said guy serving drinks in my favorite haunt.” Her eyes flit briefly back down to Jasper at the end of the bar before returning to me. “Now that we’ve delved into the crazy that’s my world, it’s your turn. Spill all that tea, girl, on all the things that I’ve missed. Like how your fine-ass brother ended up with Sinclair James.”

  “For the hundredth time, Jacob is my brother. There will be no talk of sex.” I raise one finger. “Sexiness.” I raise a second finger. “Descriptions of dreams…”

  She laughs and this time her eyes sparkle with humor. “That was only once.”

  “And it was one time too many. Why does everyone fall over themselves for Jacob?”

  “Don’t give me that. What’s not to appreciate? He’s rich. Smart. From a good family. And my God, those hazel eyes.” She holds a hand over her heart and sighs. “If he wasn’t your brother, he could get it. I might even give it up twice on Sunday.”

  Dominique crudely thrusts her hips and the laughter that follows is cleansing. It erases the unease that slipped quietly between us, replacing it with the familiar cadence of friendship. Where I’m a little more formal, always minding my P’s and Q’s, and she’s the wild child down for whatever.

  “Well, you obviously know my brother is back with Sin,” I start.

  Nodding her head, she downs a shot and sets the glass upside down on the bar. “The whole world knows about your brother and Sin. Remind me later to pinch you super hard for that, by the way. How did I not know that you knew Sinclair James?”

  I shrug, taking another long pull of the margarita. I never quite know how to answer that question. Jake and Sin’s breakup was messy. Jake was completely at fault, but as his sister I was one hundred percent in his corner.

  He told me the gritty details of how it all went down. I can still hear his voice laden with regret and heartbreak as he confessed every transgression. At that time, it seemed kind of wrong to ask if he was okay with me keeping my friendship with Sin.

  I wasn’t even sure if Sin wanted to talk to me; as it turns out she didn’t. Sin just kind of disappeared on both of us for a year, and the next time we saw her, she had superstar status and was untouchable.

  Can you imagine that conversation?

  In my mind it would go something like: Hey, my brother dated one of the world’s largest stars before she was famous. No. We don’t really have anything to do with her now because he cheated on her with her college roommate. Yes, he’s indeed the guy she sang about in “Exquisitely Broken.” No, he really isn’t that big of an asshole, and he regrets losing her every day.

  Why would I bring that up in conversation? It’s messy and awkward, and minimizes the very real pain that my brother not only inflicted but also felt.

  “We’ll come back to that. What I want to know about…” She pauses, scooping a mound of salsa onto a chip before popping it into her mouth. “Is the guy.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” I grab the remaining tequila shot, tilt my head back, and swallow it down in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that.

  Between the margaritas, shots of tequila, and appetizers we order, I manage to give her most of the details. Running into Dan at the pool party. Smoking weed for the first time in my life. Accidentally or miraculously, depending on how you look at it, falling on his dick at the wedding and subsequently ghosting him since returning home.

  When I stop talking, the words just kind of hang there between us, percolating with the excitement of sharing this experience.

  “Woooow…” She blinks at me, surprised. “You got me with this one. A one-night stand. You. Whoever would have thought it? And with Daniel Xu, no less. Consider my mind blown.”

  “Why?” The word comes out insecure and small. Is it that surprising Daniel would pick me? Is she shocked that I picked him?

  “Because, sweetie, you’re stepping out of the box and I’m just…so damn happy for you. Everyone knows the stress you’re under. Some of it’s from your mom, yes.” She places a hand on top of mine. “But a lot of it’s you. This insistence that you be perfect, that you maintain an unattainable standard. For years, I’ve watched you struggle under the fuckery of it all. And it sounds to me like for the first time, maybe ever, you put it all down and just enjoyed yourself.”

  The word enjoyed is too mild. A bland adjective that doesn’t even begin to touch on the intensity of that night. We didn’t make love. Dan took me. Opened me up beyond vulnerability and uncertainties and dropped me on the other side of ecstasy. For those hours, I was hyperaware of my body, of every bead of sweat, every twitch of muscles, the blood rushing through my veins, and when I looked into his eyes, I knew he felt it too. He was right there with me.

  It was filthy.

  It was fucking.

  It was us.

  It’s hands down the best thing I’ve ever experienced. How am I supposed to move on after that?

  “It was only one night, Dom.” One night. That’s the mantra I keep whispering over and over, praying that the repeated words
will embed themselves deep in my psyche and eventually I’ll convince myself once was enough.

  I have no time for sexy distractions that with little to no effort charmed me out of my panties and reduced me to little more than hormones and impulse.

  I wrap a hand around the frosty glass, resisting the urge to roll its icy surface over suddenly heated skin. Choosing instead to empty the last remnants of tequila-infused guava into my mouth.

  “Says who?” Dominique asks.

  The glass almost falls off the edge of the bar when I set it down. Nervously I fumble with alcohol-dulled reflexes to set it to rights. “Me.”

  “Why? That man looks like Charles Melton, with longer hair and chiseled abs.”

  “I’m not even going to pretend that a relationship is possible,” because it’s not. Daniel Xu is firmly in the hookup category. “And can you imagine his body count.”

  “Okay. First, no one said you need to have a relationship to be dicked down on the regular.”

  She raises a hand in the air, signaling to Jasper for another round.

  “And two, that body count gives him experience. At least enough to have you spending the night and sitting here blushing at the memory. If his numbers are as high as you think, I bet he’s got that blow-your-back-out kinda dick. That have-you-speaking-in-tongues, gaining-spiritual-enlightenment, diamond-tipped, veiny-and-thick, pretty kind of dick.”

  If the truth of Dominique’s words didn’t have me blushing, the salacious tone she uses while saying them gets the job done.

  “Don’t look that sex horse in the mouth.” She gives the ever-attentive bartender a thoughtful once-over as he replaces our empty glasses with freshly blended, perfectly orange, guava margaritas.

  “Let me know if you don’t want him. I’ll gladly take him off your hands.”

  “Like hell you will,” I immediately snap, which is ridiculous, right? Daniel isn’t mine. I have no claim or title.

  “That doesn’t sound like a girl who’s ready to walk away.” She gives me raised eyebrows over the rim of her glass.

  I’m not.