The Fun Night
1421 Words
Elizabeth
The air outside is cold, it bites my bare legs as I cross the parking lot to my car. With shaky hands, I open the door and slide into the driver’s seat, clutching the steering wheel so tightly, as if it will somehow absorb the fear and shock twisting inside me.
Logan Mercer.
The infamous biker president of the Ironshade Reapers motorcycle club.
It finally makes sense why Mr. Smith failed to attach a name or photo to the details. He knew I'd have refused the appointment immediately, without hesitation or second thought. Nobody wants to be in proximity to a murderer. Worse still, sleep with him.
Had I recognized him earlier, I wouldn't have spent a single minute in that room. All that hair on his head and face fooled me, and now I have many questions running through my mind. Why did he just watch me? Was he examining me for something? Am I his next victim? What will I do if he requests me again? I think of all sorts of things until my mind goes blank.
When I finally calm down, I drive out of the facility and watch in my rearview mirror as it shrinks behind me, hoping there won't be another time I'll have to return.
I drive straight home and into the shower, scrubbing my skin as if that could erase the past two hours. I try to watch a TV show later but my mind keeps dragging me to places I'd rather forget, so I turn it off. I change out of my pajamas and into jeans, grab a coat and head out. My Christmas has been ruined, but I can change that. I have a few hours of it to do something that might lift my spirits. I drive to a club down the road and ask my best friend, Nancy, to meet me there. It is her day off too, and like me, she is single so she agrees to.
A few glances are sent my way as I weave through bodies toward the counter. The club is more crowded than usual. I order a cocktail and sip it while waiting for Nancy to arrive .
“Hey b***h!” she shouts minutes later, wrapping her arms around me from behind. “What prompted this fun time on Christmas? Aren't you supposed to be with Mia?”
I roll my eyes as she hoists herself on the stool beside me. “Mia is spending Christmas at her father's.”
Nancy raises a brow. “What did you do this time?”
“It's just teenagers being teenagers,” I shrug.
“Oh yeah?” She says, placing her order.
Cocktail first. That's how we always do it.
“Tell me something,” I begin. “You had a man in your bed last week. How is it that you're not spending Christmas with him? I expected you to rain-check my invite.”
She scowls, and I chuckle. “Turns out he's five years younger than me, and has a girlfriend who he needed to introduce to his parents today. Can you believe it?”
“Five years younger?” My mouth drops. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“Really,” she says. “He's good in bed, though. Massive d**k. Best s*x of my life, too bad it only lasted a week.”
“You say that about most people you sleep with, Nancy.”
She lifts her glass. “I know, but this one really was the best.”
We order another round and sip slowly.
“Hey, are you okay?” Nancy asks, snapping me out of thoughts I didn't realize I was lost in. Somehow, Logan has followed me here.
“Yes,” I say, forcing a smile.
She raises a brow. “That wasn't convincing.”
“Actually… no.”
She rubs my shoulder. “Talk to me. You know I'm always here.”
“Mr. Smith set up an appointment today, even though it was my day off,” I say.
She nods, listening.
“It was a conjugal visit,” I continue, and her eyes widen. “The client was Logan Mercer and I only found out when he gave me his name on my way out.”
Her jaw drops, it could sit on the counter. “The Logan Mercer? President of the Ironshade Reapers?”
I nod. “Yeah, The Logan Mercer.”
“Oh my god! Tell me about it, does he f**k good? Did you f**k him good?” She shouts over the music, loud enough to earn a few laughs from the bartender and the couple beside us.
Her reaction doesn't surprise me. An encounter like this would only excite her, not terrify her. Right now I wish I could borrow that part of her brain, anything to stop overthinking.
“Actually, he didn't touch me.”
She frowns. “Did you at least touch him?”
“No.” I tell her everything – how he watched me, what he said, how he promised this wasn't the last time.
“Girl!” she squeals. “You're living my dream. f*****g a criminal has been on my bucket list since I was seventeen. I'm jealous.”
I roll my eyes. “You're insane.”
“Well, cocktail time is over. Let's get this party started!” She shouts and proceeds to order several shots of tequila.
By my third shot, the alcohol finally hits my intolerant bits just as two men join us at the counter – one beside Nancy, the other beside me.
“What is Christmas without a drunk dance with a beautiful lady?” The man next to me says, leaning against the counter.
I open my mouth to reply but he speaks again. “Come dance with me.”
I don't know if it's the alcohol or my need to forget Logan, but I take the man's hand and follow him to the dance floor.
David Guetta's sexy b***h blasts through the speakers. He mostly sings while I dance, hyping me up.
Nancy and the other man join us and we dance till our legs give out. Back at the counter, we drink some more before Nancy and I exchange the look and decide to leave.
“So soon?” One of the men asks. “Don't you wanna dance till the lights come on?”
“Thanks, but we should go,” I say.
“We've got work tomorrow,” Nancy adds.
After some coaxing, they finally walk us out.
The cold hits instantly, and I hug myself instinctively as we cross the parking lot.
“Here,” the man with me says, handing me a jacket I didn't even notice him taking off.
“I've got a coat in my car,” I say.
“I insist.”
We stop and he drapes it over my shoulders, stepping closer. I don't know if it's the alcohol or he's really cute. He tilts my chin up and I rise onto my toes to kiss him, but my phone vibrates.
“Sorry,” I murmur, pulling it out of my pocket.
I thought Mia had finally decided to talk to me but it's not her.
My stomach twists as I read the message from Mr. Smith. Logan didn't lie. He wants another visit soon, three days from now.
“Are you okay?” the man asks, reminding me of his presence.
I shake my head, sliding the phone back into my pocket. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Can I at least get your name?”
I chuckle, realizing I don't know his name either. “Elizabeth.”
He smirks. “I'm Anthony.”
“Thanks for the fun night, Anthony," I say as we proceed to the Corolla.
Nancy is too busy shoving her tongue down her guy's throat to notice us, until Anthony clears his throat.
“Oh,” she laughs, acknowledging our presence. “I'd have stayed longer but I'd rather my best friend takes me home. I don't wanna Uber myself there. Call me… Cole, right?”
“Yeah,” the guy she was kissing replies, helping her into the passenger seat.
“Crazy best friend you have there,” Anthony says, and I nod in agreement as I hand him back his jacket.
“Pretty crazy.”
He presses a kiss to my cheek and opens my car door.
“Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
“Goodnight, Anthony.”
- Writer
