“Everything okay?”
“Tired,” I say as I look up at my friend. Max has worked for me for a few years now. He serves as security ever since business picked up at the bar after I bought it out from its previous owner. He’s a good guy and extremely loyal, which makes him a commodity I can’t afford to lose. Beneath his shaved head and insane build that intimidates most people that walk through the doors here, he’s got a big heart.
“Call it a night, man. It’s late, and you’ve been up here all day.”
“Yeah.” I push back from my desk and stand up, making my way out of the office. When I pass Max, I clap his back, saying, “I’m gonna go talk to Gav then head out.”
Max follows as we walk down the stairs and into the bar that I’ve owned since I graduated from the University of Washington. This place has become a second home to me. It’s where I spend most of my time.
Bumping shoulders through the crowd of people, I spot my old college buddy, Gavin, tossing back a bottle of beer.
“Ryan, dude? Where the hell have you been?”
“Working.”
“Mel!” he shouts over to one of the bar girls. “Get this old man a beer.”
“No, Mel. I’m good,” I tell her, and she just shakes her head at Gavin, knowing what a partier he is.
“What’s up with you tonight?”
“Tired, man.”
“You not staying?”
Before I can answer, a tall blonde catches my eye as she starts making her way through the crowd and up to the bar. She steps next to me and leans over the bar top to get Mel’s attention, and when I eye her, Gavin mumbles, “Yeah, you’re staying,” all too knowingly.
“Ryan, right?” the blonde asks as she turns to look at me, and when I nod my head, she introduces herself with a slow, “I’m Gina,” trying to sound sexy, but it’s lost on me ‘cause I couldn’t give a shit what her name is. Girls like her are an almost daily occurrence.
“Have we met before or something?” I ask since she already knows who I am.
“Not officially. I’ve seen you around though.” She grins at me as she says this, but her fake tits are too distracting for me to focus on her face. It’s when she giggles that I snap my attention up. “You own this place, right?”
I nod my head again. One thing about me, I’m not much of a talker. I’m a pretty quiet guy for the most part, but with chicks especially, I don’t talk. There’s no need to. I don’t care to delay the inevitable. I’m a straight shooter, and being as tired as I am, I cut the shit and say, “Wanna get to know me better in my office?”
Her smile grows, and I take her hand, leading her to the back stairs. I spot Gavin trying to nail his own bait, and he gives me a cocky grin when he sees me pass by.
We walk into my office, and I close the door, pinning her up against it, clasping her wrists in my hand above her head while I run my other hand up her skirt and between her legs. Letting go of her wrists, she works with my pants, anxious to get them off.
I fumble in my back pocket, and when I retrieve the condom, I quickly rip it open with my teeth, spitting out the shredded foil as she tugs my pants down. I waste no time. Closing my eyes, I shove her panties to the side and take her against the door.
I never care to look too much at the girls I bang. Honestly, I don’t want to connect in any way.
This is me—disconnecting.
Screwing chicks as they come along. I don’t talk. I don’t watch. My escape lasts for as long as it takes for me to get off, then I move on. I’ve been this way my whole life, from a fifteen-year-old freshman in high school to a now twenty-eight-year-old man. I’m emotionally messed up, and I don’t even try to hide it.
Clinging herself to me, legs wrapped around my waist, I bury my head in her neck, and the thick perfume she’s wearing makes me screw her harder, wanting to finish up so I can go home and wash this shit off of me.
Pouring another cup of coffee, trying to wake up before heading out to the gym, my phone starts to ring. I know it’s my mom before I even look. She always calls first thing Sunday morning—predictable.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. How’re you doing?”
Taking my coffee, I walk over and plop down on my couch as I say, “Good. Nothing new.”
“What time do you think you’ll be here tomorrow?” she asks.
“Around two,” I tell her. My mom still lives in Oregon at the same beach house that I grew up in down on Cannon Beach. After high school, I moved here, to Seattle, to go to college, but I still go back home often to visit. “Tori’s gonna come too. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Is that cool?”
“Of course. Is she bringing the kids?”
Taking a sip of my coffee, I laugh and say, “No. She’s going crazy. That’s why I invited her to hang with me for a few days. She’s desperate to escape. She said that Connor has been a nightmare lately, throwing crazy temper tantrums. So she’s going to leave the kids home with Trevor.”
“Oh, dear. Four is such a rough age. I remember when you were four. You were always embarrassing me. You hated wearing pants, so it didn’t matter where we were, you would just strip down bottomless in public for all to see.” She starts laughing, and I can’t help joining in with her when she continues through her chuckles, “I would be so embarrassed, but when I tried getting you to pull up your underwear, you just screamed and drew even more attention.”