Too Consumed (22 page)

***

Selena’s hand convulses around mine, she can barely contain her excitement as we enter the Spearmint Rhino. She loves clubs, but she loves strip clubs even more. According to her, men leave you alone in strip clubs and focus more on the already provided bare breasts instead of trying to free yours from your dress.

Inside, the club is decorated with lots of blacks and
golds—everything seeming to follow that strict color code. Unlike the Polaris in Boston, the Spearmint Rhino strangely offers a homier vibe—which is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever thought in my life. In this club, I don’t feel dirty. The red-haired girl doing her thing on the narrow stage isn’t fully naked and that makes me feel better…even if I can still see her hard, fake breasts and dark erect nipples.

I feel Seth plant his hand low on my back. “One word and we’ll go,
okay?” he tells me, his breath caressing my earlobe. I nod my head. One word and I can go home, that’s all it takes. Relaxing, I inhale deeply, drawing in the scent of whiskey and Coke.

We follow Jackson over to a little group of black chairs in the far corner of the room.

“Here we are, nice and secluded for Olivia’s bashful eyes, but not too far away for the rest of us to enjoy the show.”

I smile, knowing very well that Jackson is taking a shot at me and my
timidness about being at a strip club. I don’t care, I’m just glad he was thoughtful enough to not get us seats right underneath the stage. Without sitting down, Darryl leaves and brings us back a round of drinks. I’m already having a hard time keeping my eyes open and preventing sharp lines from blurring into one another.
And
I’m trying hard to ignore the pressure I feel at the front of my forehead, behind my brow. I bring the wine glass that he sits in front of me to my nose—it’s red wine of some kind. I sip at it and it goes down smoothly, not burning like the shots I’ve been taking all night, and the feeling of having something so fruity and smooth slip down my throat is refreshing. After the drinks are received, we talk about the upcoming fight. Seth doesn’t seem so keen to add to the conversation and I know it’s because he’s nervous. I don’t know what it is with him but he’s usually so confident that it borderlines self-obsessed, but when it comes to fighting he can be so reserved—like he thinks he’s not good enough. I push myself off my chair and straight onto his lap. He hands me his drink and his lips curve into a delightful smile as he wraps his arms around me. “What do you know, a beautiful girl is sitting on my lap and I didn’t even have to pay for it.”

I chuckle. “Aren’t you lucky?”

“Extremely lucky.” His fingers dance around my thigh, toying with the edge of my dress.

I lean in to kiss him, but a
guy in a
very
nice suit with three girls on his arm strolls past us in a haze of giggles and whispers, distracting me.

“That looks familiar.” Jackson snickers, drawing
my attention and the glass to his lips.

Underneath me, I feel Seth’s body tighten and I look down at him. He takes
his drink from my hands and takes an uncomfortable sip, his eyes never leaving Jackson.

“Familiar?” Selena asks, curiously. “You’ve had
three
women? At once?”

“Not me, I don’t have enough stamina to entertain three women.” His eyes flick to Seth
and then his smug smile fades as realization sets in.

Does he mean Seth? Seth has had three women at once?
I glance down at Seth again, whose eyes are no longer on Jackson, but on me. He’s tense, like he’s expecting me to freak out. Faintly, in the background mixed with sensual music and lively chatter, I hear Selena start a new conversation in an attempt to forget the last one. Wait…why is Seth so worried? When did he do three women? The last time he was in Vegas? When he was fighting Don?

“Three?” I spit out, feeling my own eyes widening.
I glance back at the rest of the group. They’re engaged in a new conversation, ignoring Seth and I. A few seconds pass and the three of them rise from their seats and stroll toward the bar.

Seth cringes, shaking his head.
“That wasn’t nice…he shouldn’t have said anyth―”

“When? The last time you were in Vegas?”

He frowns, seeming almost agitated. “No, I was with you the last time I was in Vegas. I did it when I was here on my twenty-first birthday.”

Seth’s
voice lowers a few decibels and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I don’t know why I was expecting him to tell me he did it when we were together…I’m used to it, I guess. How pathetic does that sound?

Is he ashamed?
No, he can’t be. Seth Marc ashamed of something he’s done? Now I’ve seen everything.

“Do you remember them?”
I ask, never dropping eye contact.

“No.”

“Do you remember me?”

Trick question.
I know he does, but I want to hear him say it. I want him to tell me how beautiful I am compared to them. I want him to tell me that I’m the only one he ever wants to be with. Every girl wants that when they ask these kinds of questions. We fish for compliments and reassurance. No girl will ever admit it, but it’s true. We always want to be told how much better we are than the last girl.
Always
. Even when we’re compared to our best friends, we want to be put on top. Girls, we can be such vain creatures.

Seth’s
face doesn’t falter at my question, his intense eyes still penetrating me with the same dark gleam. “Every rise and depression, every scar—every fucking freckle.”

“Then
…” I say, slowly, “we have no problem.”

He
watches me closely, trying to decipher if I’m playing with him or not. Who am I to hold what he did before he met me against him? I know I’m guilty of it—especially after my little outburst in California, but since then I’ve realized when you meet someone new, it’s all about starting fresh. You can’t take someone’s past and throw it in their face. It’s called the past for a reason.

“When I drin
k I get a little out of control. I get mad and horny and I can’t stop…” He confesses with a small cringe on his face.

Here I am thinking he’s traumatized by his mother enough not to drink, but it’s because he’s an aggressive-horny drunk
and he doesn’t like it. How unexpected…

“And you did
all
three of them?”

He nods. “All three.”

I feel my pussy pulsate at the thought. Sure, I’m jealous, and yes, there’s a swirling mass of nauseating butterflies in my stomach at the thought of him touching them like he touches me, but underneath all of that, there’s desire…desire to see this other side of him—to experience this other side of him. I bring the drink closer to him, holding it up to his mouth.

“You still want me to drink?” Seth asks, curiously.
“Anymore and I think I’m going to be
way
over my safety limit.”

I pull the glass back a little.
“Only if you promise to take all of your anger and passion out on me and not three strange women.”

His eyebrows arch in disbelief before pulling into a determined frown. He snatches the drink from my hand and
slams it back in a few quick seconds. He leans over me, his body almost crushing me as he sets his glass down on the table. When he pulls back, I fling my arms around his neck and force my lips against his. I’m not usually one for public displays of affection, but there are enough bare tits in this room to take the attention off a couple making out in the back corner of the room.

Seth pulls away as the speakers announce a new dancer and his eyes flick to the stage.
After a few seconds, I feel his entire body go rigid and I drag my gaze from his lips to his eyes. The colorful spark of lust, gone; replaced with dark anger. In one rapid movement, he shifts out from underneath me, swiftly laying me flat on my back on the couch.
What the hell?

In the distance, I hear the
sound of a metal stool colliding with the side of the bar and it forces me out of my confused stupor as Darryl runs right by my couch and after Seth—Jackson in tow.

I push myself up onto my elbows before sitting up and swinging my legs off the edge of the couch.
I watch Seth stalk his way past chairs, infatuated business men, and rowdy bachelors to get to the stage. The lone girl on stage—the one he appears to be going for—is oblivious to his approach and Jackson and Darryl are unable to reach him before he jumps onto the stage in a single bound.

“What the hell is going on?” Selena demands
as she drops into the seat next to me.

W
e both watch Seth grab the girl on stage. She looks genuinely terrified to see him and desperately tries to cover her breasts and tiny light blue G-string.

“
What the fuck, O?” Selena breathes, grabbing my wrist.

I don’t speak as I watch Seth and the girl silently yell at each other.
By the time Jackson and Darryl make it to the stage, the bouncers are already there, trying to contain Seth, but he’s too powerful for them. When he shrugs them off, they stumble back several feet before they find their footing again. The girl tries to run back through the doors she came from, but he grabs her wrist, forcing her to stay with him. Her long black hair whips around and her face is flushed with both embarrassment and anger. I can’t see all of the fine details from here, but I hate that she’s so pretty.

“Who is that? Do you know who that is?”

Again I ignore Selena, heartbrokenly immersed in the scene before me. Surely I’m imagining this. Whoever this girl is, Seth doesn’t like her stripping in front of all these people, and the way he handles her with such aggression and possession sends my stomach in knots. From the dark corners of the club, six security guards march onto the stage and restrain Seth. They pull back on their heel, dragging a pissed off Seth from the stage as the girl disappears behind the staff doors. I leap off the couch and make it to the doors as Seth is forced from the club.

Outside, Darryl has Seth against the wall, trying to calm him
, and Jackson is by the road, hailing a cab. Everything is happening so fast and my dizzy brain can’t take it all in. My head spins as a result of all of the alcohol and the scene that just played out before me. It can’t be what I think it is…We haven’t been in Vegas long enough for him to find someone else…right?

A cab pulls up almost immediately and it’s white—completely different to the yellow ones we have in Portland—not that that’s an important piece of information right now. Seth pushes past Darryl and I watch as he storms toward the cab.
He pulls open the door and turns to me. “Get in.”

I step forward and then pause.
“Seth—”

“Jesus-
fucking-Christ,” he snaps. “I said get in!”

I glance over my shoulder at Selena
and she folds her arms tightly over her chest.

“Olivia, you don’t have to go with him
,” she tells me, spitting the word ‘him’ like it fills her mouth with a bad taste.

“Stay out
of it, Selena,” Jackson demands and Selena opens her mouth, about to protest.

“It’s okay
,” I tell her, proud of how steady my voice comes out. “I’ll call you later.”

I look back
at Seth and receive no hint of warmth or sympathy for what I just witnessed—whatever the hell that was. Trusting Seth, I approach him, hoping he’ll give me some kind of sane explanation inside the cab. I hunch and climb into the taxi and he follows me, slamming the door behind him. After he grumbles out the hotel to the taxi driver, he doesn’t move or even try to explain what just happened and I don’t know if I should be the one who starts the conversation.

The Persian taxi driver smiles at me through the rear-
view mirror and I decide dragging him into this isn’t a good idea. I can hear Seth’s loud, fast breathing, but I don’t do anything to comfort him. I sit with my straight posture and watch the lights whip past. I keep my hands in my lap, entwined in each other to fight the urge to touch him.

Seth winds down the window, letting in more fresh air and I can hear his fingers playing in an uneven beat against his denim jeans as he becomes more and more anxious.

I flinch when he finally speaks. “I know how fucked up that probably looked to you, but I’ll explain it all…once I come to terms with it myself.”

I nod without looking at him. I hope he explains it to me
soon because I fear I’m about to burst into tears at any second. As the bright lights of the Las Vegas Boulevard begin to whip past, I bite my lower lip and ask myself the same question Selena was asking me earlier. Who the fuck was that and what the fuck just happened?

***

I lean against the wall at the base of the stairs to our bedroom, my body tight and on high alert as Seth loses the plot. He grabs a small orb candle holder and tosses it hard against the wall. The pretty red and silver glass shatters into tiny pieces on the ground and I avert my gaze as he snatches up a bar stool and puts it through the beautiful glass coffee table. Fear catapults through my body and grips my stomach as I flinch away from the loudness.
Note to self: If we ever live together, avoid purchasing anything ceramic, glass or anything else he can destroy.
Sadly, I’m having a serious case of déjà vu from Boston. Only now it’s over some random girl in a strip club instead of Don.