“You’re right.” She shakes her head as if to clear it of him. “Hey, you want to have a few shots after work? Wayne won’t mind. If you dance with him he’ll even give them to you for free.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “We both know how you like to dance.”
For the first time I think I need a few shots after work. “Yeah, cool. Thanks, Sam.”
“Thanks for not slut shaming me also. Kayla and Terry won’t stop snickering every time I walk past them, whispering slut under their breath. I’m not a…slut, right?” She sounds uncertain and worried.
I look her right in the eye. “No. You’re a grown woman who can sleep with whoever she wants. Sluts don’t exist anyway. They’re women who do what they want and are judged by people who don’t understand them. You think those two judgmental idiots wouldn’t want Kent Nicholson if he breathed their way? Don’t let them bother you.”
I pat her arm, but she pulls me against her into a hug. I’m momentarily stunned. I don’t have friends. My life is too much of a precarious tipping stone as it is without other women risking my footing. Plus with Becca always around I’ve never needed them. But Becca’s away, I’m on my own, and maybe having a friend around wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I recover and hug her back.
“Thank you, Raina.”
“Anytime, Sam. Let’s get back to work.”
The night continues to drain the life out of me. I’m accused of getting an order wrong, even though I know I didn’t, and the customer’s being a bitch with a side of cunt. I get no tip from that table, and my others are filled with touchy men who want more beer, my number, and something I’m not willing to give them. I eye a wedding ring on one finger.
My resolve to leave Kent alone resurfaces like a wild beast out for blood. That’s Kent. Handsome, spoiled, unfaithful, and drowning in issues I don’t want to unearth.
I wonder fleetingly why I need reminders to leave someone alone, when before my fears were always enough.
Chapter Five
Sam slams a shot down on the bar.
Oblivion is officially closed and we are officially free. Until tomorrow. The thought depresses me, so I take my proffered shot of vodka and slam it down. I can’t stand the taste and have to do a dance with my face all scrunched up to keep it down. The girls gather around the bar and chatter lightly. My mood is anything but light, but not wanting to be rude forces me to join in, supplying what I need to when prompted.
I take one more shot and then announce my departure. Samantha groans, opening her mouth to argue whatever point she has, but I quickly wave goodbye and duck out the back. I want to get home before the shots kick in. It’s not the wisest choice, but neither is drinking more.
When I get to the apartment I pause outside the door and listen for grunting and moaning.
“Kent,” a female voice says, followed by muffled giggles.
“Great,” I grumble, sliding down to sit on the porch. I dangle my feet over the railing’s edge and take my phone out. Angry Birds keeps me company while the two of them give the couch a workout.
“Kent!” she shouts at one point, but it sounds angry and unsatisfied. His dark chuckle follows, and then he makes a weird grunting noise.
“Get off of me,” she orders. “Let’s switch then.”
I try and tune them out. Great, now they’re fighting. There’s a lull in the conversation. I assume he’s kissing it and making it better. After a few minutes, however, she starts at him again.
“Kent,” she whines, making me cringe. “Get up. Wake up. What’s wrong?”
I turn around and stare at the door. I’ve never had sex but I doubt you ask those types of questions any time during.
“Shit. Kent, get up. Wake up!” She’s starting to get frantic. Hectic demands tumble out of her. “Stop shaking. Get up.”
I bolt to my feet and try the door. It’s locked. Kent never gave me my key. I pound with my fist. “Let me in!”
A few seconds later the door opens. I ignore the naked brunette trying to cover herself with her clothes by the door and immediately search for Kent. He’s on his back on the couch, naked as the day he was born, and his face is slack and his head has fallen to the