The Lover's Game (8 page)

Gina and I exchanged glances.

“You’re so bad,” Gina said, laughing. “One drink, and that’s it.”

“Atta girl.” Thalia’s sharp gaze focused on me, and for a moment I could almost feel it penetrating the barriers of my mind, as though she could see right through me.

Just one drink.

I wouldn’t even have to take more than a sip, and no one would notice.

Gina shot me a “trust me” look.

I had never really been much of a drinker anyway, no more than a glass or two of wine, but the idea of spending the evening with new friends brightened my gloomy mood. Besides, my obstetrician had even recommended one glass of wine every now and then. “Okay,” I found myself saying and lifted one finger, “but one drink only.”

“Absolutely.” Thalia laughed out loud as she locked her arms with ours again. “That’s totally the plan. Come on, girls. First round’s on me.”

I
t was supposed to be one drink—just one single drink to celebrate the fact that I had found a new job. What’s a night out without colorful cocktails or a cold glass of martini with a green olive on a stick? Ever since becoming pregnant, I had felt I had been missing out on the fun: New York City’s nightlife screaming of light pleasures and dark chaos, quick dates, and drawn-out dramas—all the excitement and disasters that came with going out and not knowing how a particular night would end. At that moment, I hoped it would end in meeting new people, making new friends, and maybe finding the beginnings of a new life—a new path without Jett. Maybe even a new guy, someone who would take my mind off the past and help me move on.

I had worked hard all my life, but finding a new date, a new lover, someone to replace my past love, was harder—particularly in a city like New York that was full of people who had no time for relationships. The only available men for dating were those who worked at night: single, successful, driven, and eager to win and get ahead. Those who loved to work hard but fucked harder. They reminded me of my old self—eager to build a career, never looking for love or a relationship. If I wanted to get Jett out of my head, all I had to do was explore New York at night and meet new people. And all that started with a drink, albeit the nonalcoholic kind, whether I wanted it or not.

As we entered La Rue, the buzz of people and music immediately made my mind spin in a good way; the laughter and excitement all around me were surprisingly captivating.

“Let’s sit at the bar,” Gina yelled in my ear, “so we don’t have to walk too far for drinks.”

The bar area was so crammed, I doubted we’d find one vacant stool, let alone three. “There’s a table over there,” I said, ready to push my way through. For once, all the shoving and invasion of my space didn’t bother me.

Thalia motioned to get the barman’s attention and flashed her stunning smile, which had him heading for us in an instant.

I jotted down, “Cranberry cocktails—absolutely no alcohol for me,” on a napkin and pushed it over the counter toward him, with some money tucked inside. He winked at me, then took Thalia’s order.

A few minutes later, we were sipping our cocktails at a table, our heads bobbing to the music blaring from invisible speakers that forced our conversation into shouts. Before long, one cocktail turned into two and then three, and I had to act as though I was drunk—which was fun, but not as much fun as watching my new friends getting hammered.

“She’s single,” Thalia shouted to a group of guys before I could stop her.

“Shush.” I held a finger to my mouth, smiling. “You’re making me look desperate.”

It was true, but given her intoxicated state, I couldn’t blame her. A few cocktails into the night and both Thalia and Gina were drunk. I had no idea how many drinks they had ordered already, because I had lost count at some point.

Ever since Thalia had asked about my relationship status and I had revealed I was single, she was hell bent on changing that by attracting the attention of potential suitors.

“You’re not looking for anyone?” Gina asked, surprised.

“Hell, no.” I shook my head. “I’m enjoying my single life.” Both Gina and Thalia cast me curious glances. I waved my hand dismissively. “Long story, but getting into a new relationship is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Ah. Bad romance gone worse.” Gina laughed. “I could sing that song myself.” She leaned in conspiratorially, her breath smelling of the mint gum she kept chewing. “Who needs love anyway when all you need is someone to warm your bed for the night.”

I stared at her, open-mouthed. “Just to be clear, I don’t want a relationship,” I said. “I’m not ready for one now.”

“Everyone says that after being dumped.”

“I wasn’t dumped,” I protested.

“Sure.” Gina winked at me. “You know, there’s no shame in admitting it.”

“What Gina is trying to say is that we can help you to hook up with someone,” Thalia cut in, surprising me once again in her similarity to Sylvie. If it weren’t for her exotic looks, she could have been my roommate’s twin.

“We’ll be your wingmen,” Gina said. “Or wing women.”

“Is that even a word?” I shook my head; it was easier than arguing with them in their determined and inebriated state.

“We’ll find you a hookup,” Thalia said. “No relationships. Just a hot guy who’ll make you forget your ex.”

I cringed inwardly. Yeah, as if that would happen anytime soon.

“That’s the plan.” Gina pushed her red hair back over her shoulder and stood to scan the room with the eyes of someone who seemed to have done this before. Several heads turned toward us and for a moment I wished I could just shrink in my seat so no one would see me.

“Please don’t tell me you’re looking for prospective candidates.” I grabbed her arm and pulled, gently urging her to sit back down, but she wouldn’t budge.

“As a matter of fact, she is,” Thalia said, laughing. “Now sit back and let the professional do her job. Clearly, you need someone to help you move on, and when it comes to getting revenge, Gina’s the best.”

“No.” I shook my head again and took a gulp of my drink. “I’m not looking for revenge. More like a rescue plan really, something to keep me from running back to him.” The words tumbled out through my cranberry-tasting lips, and I realized my blunder too late.

Thalia’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “Why would you want to run back
to
someone? You call them an ex for a reason.”

I shrugged.
Why would I want that indeed?
“I don’t know. The sex was pretty good—amazing really.”

“Here’s what I usually recommend.” Gina finally sat down, turning her attention back to us and wearing a determined look on her face. “If a man hits five on the list, you sleep with him, if only to feel shitty afterward and replace your good memories with bad ones.”

My lips twitched as I tried hard to suppress the laughter bubbling at the back of my throat. Either they were making fun of me, or the alcohol was speaking and they wouldn’t remember a word the following day. “And what list would that be?”

“Clean, sexy, good-looking.” She started counting and paused. “That’s it. Everything else is a bonus.” I didn’t want to point out that she barely got to three points; maybe two since the term “clean” was debatable.

“She’s right,” Thalia said, her speech slurring more by the second. “It’s hard to find a man who’s caring
and
sexy, attentive
and
handsome. And don’t get me started on supportive.”

“Take it from me,” Gina continued, “most men ran if I so much as asked them to water my plants.”

Thalia nudged her. “You forgot to add hardworking but not completely obsessed with his career to the point of forgetting that you exist.”

“So you suggest settling for less?” I asked, amused.

“No.” Gina drew out the word and exchanged glances with Thalia. “What we’re saying is that if you want to move on, you first need to get laid. There’s no way around that.” She paused for effect. “I know the perfect singles bar, and it just so happens to be down the street. Let’s pay the place a visit.”

“I hope you’re not talking about that male strippers club again.” Thalia laughed. Gina shot her a dirty look, shutting her up.

Strippers? Oh, God.

It was exactly what I had tried to avoid—running around from one place to the next, because I couldn’t possibly leave them to their fate. They were too drunk for that, and someone had to make sure they got home safely. As much as I hated the idea, I couldn’t just abandon them.

“You said just one bar and one drink,” I muttered.

“I’ve changed my mind.” Gina grinned and finished her drink in one gulp. “We’ll help you, under one condition.”

For some reason, I had a bad feeling. All that talk about sleeping with a stranger made me feel uncomfortable. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Which is?”

“
We
make the decision.”

“What decision?” I asked, confused.

Gina smiled mysteriously. “We choose your guy of the night for you.” At my shocked expression she raised her hands to stop my protest. “ Wait. Hear me out. You don’t have to sleep with him. Just promise that you’ll date him for a couple hours.”

I looked from Gina to Thalia in confusion. Friends choosing a guy for you? It sounded like a bad idea. I only had to think of my friends’ disaster dates to know that hookups would end in the walk of shame, with my head buried deep in the sand. However, I also wondered what would happen if, for once, I let someone else make such a decision on my behalf. I wasn’t exactly known for my good judgment in choosing suitable males for a relationship. Before Jett, I had only dated the kind of guy who couldn’t commit if his life depended on it. And Jett...

I blew out a breath. He hadn’t been so different than the others, what with his whole misguided idea about not marrying until we were old and gray. He had been such a bad decision. The whole falling-in-love-with-him thing had been a disaster. What if they had more luck than I had? What if a one-night date, a getting to know a complete stranger without having to sleep with him, was the solution, a way to move on from Jett and banish my memories of him—of being with him?

“Jealousy is still the best way to get back at someone,” Gina debated with Thalia.

“It’s not about revenge. It’s about regaining your self-respect by knowing you deserve better,” Thalia answered.

I held up a hand to stop their chatter. “Okay. I’ll do it.” I grabbed my bag and coat, ready to banish my memories of Jett to the back of my mind, if I hung on to them at all.

They stared at me until Gina gave Thalia a short pat on the shoulder. “You heard her. Let’s go.”

They grabbed their coats and bags in haste, as though they feared I might change my mind.

“But no more drinks for me,” I said.

“Do you remember your address?” Gina asked, grinning.

I frowned. “Yeah. Why?”

“That’s all that matters. A yellow cab will take care of the rest.” Her face creased up in laughter. “Besides, I’m next in line to pay, and one last drink won’t change your life.”

I could only hope so. If only my feelings would stop telling me that she was wrong.

W
hen Gina had mentioned the singles bar, she forgot to add the fact that she was really talking about an underground club that looked like some sort of seedy, illegal establishment. Bass beats were blasting from inside, so loud my head began to pound before we even walked in. The entire building was painted black, reminding me of a graveyard. The entire atmosphere screamed bizarre, and definitely not my style. I should have already realized from the large, red “HUSH HUSH” neon sign above the entrance door painted in black that it was not the kind of establishment I would ever enter. But instead of arguing and standing my ground at the door, I clamped my mouth shut, waiting to see what could possibly happen next.

It was only when a guy covered in tattoos exited, his eyes assessing my body hungrily as his tongue brushed his teeth in a gross gesture, that I desperately wanted to run away.

“Are you insane?” I hissed at Gina.

“What? Are you scared?” Gina rolled her eyes and pulled at my hand. “Don’t be a pussy. I’ve been here countless times, and it’s great. Just wait until you’re inside.”