my arm over my eyes. The fucking sun is bright, blinding me as I try to get my head working.
“Time to go, darlin’.” I sit up, stopping the blonde’s hand as she reaches to try to jerk me off.
“But… I’ll be quick.” She winks and I smile.
“Sweetheart, as much as I would love for you to continue, I’m late.”
Jessamine is a friend. She’s always willing to party and never asks for more. Hence why I text her whenever I need to escape.
“How much did I drink?” My head is pounding and that rarely happens. I’m what you call a seasoned drinker. Not much is gonna take me down.
She stretches again. As she smiles, her hands go to rub my back. “You were on a mission.”
Standing, I need a shower, but I’m late as fuck. I’ll have to wait until after Church.
Pulling on my jeans, I reach for my cigarettes. “You know your way out.”
She laughs. “God, you’re lucky you’re hot and have a big dick.” She leans over for a cigarette herself.
Jessamine is fun. Too bad that’s all I feel for her. She’d make a great old lady. Maybe Rip should fuck her. He’s always grumbling about not being able to find a nice girl.
Grabbing a black tee, I make my way into the bathroom. I need to give Amy another gift basket. My bathroom is so clean the light bounces off the shiny tile, making me see tiny black dots for a second. I don’t bother with hot water and go straight for the cold. Lifting my head, I assess the damage.
Bloodshot eyes stare back at me in the mirror, along with three days of stubble. Otherwise, I’m okay I guess. When I rub my chin, it’s sore, and I wonder if I got into a fight or slept on it wrong.
I brush my teeth and gargle with Listerine. Opening my medicine cabinet, I pop three Advil in my mouth, swallowing with a scoop of water from the sink, then run my wet hands through my hair. It’s starting to curl. I need a fucking haircut, but my stylist is fucking Edge in Mexico. Gritting my teeth, I think—not for the first time—this is all their fault.
I’m hungover because of them. If they had stayed A) My hair wouldn’t be curling around the sides of my head.
And B) I wouldn’t have smoked and drank away a huge number of brain cells. I snicker. Good thing I’m smart and have a lot to lose. I take one last look and decide it’s definitely a Visine morning. Leaning my head back, I saturate my eyes. Closing them, I relish in the burn of whatever magical formula they use. Pictures of small, firm tits and rock-hard nipples fill my brain.
“God damn it.” I snap my eyes open and give up on letting them adjust. If I keep them closed, I’ll only see the reason I got so fucked up in the first place.
I swear I can still smell her, it’s like my nose is holding her unique scent hostage. I was supposed to go back to manage the Pussycat last night, but that went down the toilet.
Fucking fantastic.
Crystal is gonna be a bitch. I’m sure she’s already called Derrick to complain. I grip the cool sink for a moment as I mentally prepare for the avalanche of messages.
A tap on the bathroom door reminds me that Jessamine is still here.
“Hey, Axel? I’m gonna take off, and Ryder’s back.”
I swing open the door. Jessamine stands dressed, her purse and shoes in hand. She looks way better than I feel.
Her eyes move to the door, and sure enough, Ryder’s massive body fills the space and he stands, arms crossed, his face void of all expression. Which means he’s pissed.
“We’re waiting. What the fuck, man?” he hisses as I walk past him.
“I’m hungover as fuck. I need a line.” I growl all this as I grab my shitty phone, which I refuse to look at. My pack of cigarettes and lighter are on the nightstand and I reach for them.
“Thanks, Jessamine.” I slap her ass as I pass her.
“Do I need to be worried about you? What the hell has happened?” Ryder walks behind me, but I can feel his eyes staring into the back of my head like he thinks that’s gonna tell him something.
“If you tell me you had a dream, I’m gonna punch you.” I turn to him and light up a cigarette, inhaling as we walk down the stairs.
“I did,” he