criminals with dark pasts and nothing to lose—they could handle me in the best, most depraved ways.
That’s why they had to be older. How could they handle me if they couldn’t handle themselves? Even so, I still never went for anyone who looked older than late twenties. I had control issues, not daddy issues.
In the bathrooms, in their cars, against the rough brick at the back of the building. One guy had even taken me to the back of the parking lot and bent me over his vintage Mustang. That was a fun night . . .
I never hooked up with the same guy twice, and I never let them think they could get more than one night of fun—not that any of them were interested in anything serious.
As my gaze wandered the crowd, I spotted the only man I’d ever slept with more than once.
I knew him only as Shady—yes, I was sleeping with someone who went by Shady, which pretty much told you all you needed to know about him. Not that he ever told me what his “business” was, but he was at Davey’s a lot, all the staff knew him, and he was always talking to some new face.
Like right now. Shady was standing with his shoulders slouched, one hand holding a drink and the other in the pocket of his tracksuit pants, talking to someone in a very expensive suit who looked as if he didn’t want to be there.
When the suit walked away, I sauntered over.
“Donna.” He smirked at me from under his baseball hat. He only knew me as Donna.
I pressed myself against his side and brought my lips to his ear. “Hey. You busy tonight?” I made my intentions perfectly clear by giving his ear a little bite.
He groaned and gripped my hip.
Shady wasn’t my usual type. He was only a little taller than me, and while he was lean and fit underneath those ridiculous tracksuits, he wasn’t the size of a fridge. But he had the dominant confidence—bordering on cockiness—in spades. And his cock was huge.
“I wish I could, Donnie baby,” he answered, and my face fell. “But I got some important business I gotta take care of tonight. If you’re still around after close . . .”
But I was already shaking my head. I was never there that long. I couldn’t risk getting home too late.
“Next time.” I winked at him and walked away, making sure to sway my hips a little extra as I moved to the center of the dance floor.
He’d send me a bunch of texts later, telling me what he wanted to do to me. I was already looking forward to the thrill of reading them—a little slice of danger in my normal, clean life.
I didn’t always pick up when I came to Davey’s. Sometimes I just wanted to dance, to thrash out my frustration with the world on the sticky floors. Sometimes I liked to sit in a corner and people-watch, wondering what these people’s lives were like. Were they easier than mine? Harder? What secrets did they have?
As I walked away from Shady, I had a feeling no one would approach me tonight. Sometimes, when he was in a shit-stirring mood, I thought maybe Shady made sure no one approached me. I didn’t know if he was actually possessive or if he just liked to fuck with me, but I didn’t care either way. If anything, it amused me. And I refused to give him the satisfaction of my reaction.
I rolled out of bed sometime after ten the next day—a good three hours later than my usual wake-up time. Harlow was still at tennis, and Mom liked to sleep in and have breakfast brought to her in bed when Dad was away. He was more active, like Harlow, and usually dragged Mom out to the pool or for a walk in the mornings.
The house was silent as I made my way downstairs, yawning and enjoying the fact that no one was around to make me feel as if I had to cover my mouth.
The hour alone before Harlow got back from tennis was the only peace I had all weekend. Mom got up not long after, just as Dad returned from his work trip and insisted on a family lunch.
I spent Saturday night at Amaya’s with the girls. We stayed up late, watched movies, gossiped—and discussed the Hendrix topic ad nauseam.
“God.” Amaya groaned, letting her phone drop to the couch next to her. “That