To say that she annoyed him would be an understatement in the extreme sense. He wanted to strangle her, plain and simple. Wrap his hands around her pretty little neck and just squeeze. But he was thinking crazy. He lifted his glass and tipped it back, taking a deep swallow of the bitter amber liquid. It traveled down the back of his throat, burning a fiery trail that he ignored as a force of habit. Familiar warmth settled in the pit of his belly, a welcome reminder that, contrary to his thoughts, he was still alive and kicking.
The bar noise and commotion was not nearly loud enough to cover the obnoxious laughter issuing from the bitch. It cut into him like a thousand knives, stabbing at his heart and soul. He tried not to look, but who could miss her damn red hair. She was comfortably in his lap, arms possesively thrown around his shoulders and her head tossed back in endless giggles. To his critical eye, he could tell that Nick was enjoying her company. Hell, she was probably sitting atop a hard-on that would rival, in turgidity, the strength of, say, any given tree. Fucking whore.
Nick’s soft laugh tainted his ears and he visibly winced, taking another gulp of the poison in front of him. He was probably telling her that he had a room upstairs and wouldn’t she like to see? His hands were more than likely inching under her shirt, along salon-tanned skin and tracing the edges of a bra. No, she wasn’t wearing a bra. He hadn’t lost his touch yet.
He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. He had to see what Nick did. Had to, to satisfy some sort masochististic urge to put his heart through the grinder. And, true to the player style that Nick embraced, he didn’t have to wait long.
Only moments passed before Nick and his scantily-clad companion brushed by AJ’s table on their way out. He kept his head down, finding it too damn painful to meet those blue eyes. Nick knew exactly what he was doing to him, and for whatever reason, kept doing it.
AJ held his breath and counted two more beats before looking up. He prayed that the pair had left quickly and that he could wallow in his selfish pain all by himself.
No such luck. AJ raised his eyes and found his gaze locked with those unmistakable eyes. He and the bitch were halfway across the room, yet he just had to look back and make sure that he ruined AJ's evening completely. Bastard.
AJ wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of looking away and letting him know exactly how he felt. He stared back at him easily and completely free of expression. The tell-tale Carter smirk played across those lips, lips that AJ had tasted once upon a time.
He watched with a sinking heart as the bearish blond tilted his head down and brought his lips close to the ear of the bitch. Nick whispered something that made her laugh rather loudly. She glanced over at him and giggled in slightly secretive manner, her hands possessively on Nick's chest.
A slow heat spread over his slight body and he just knew his cheeks were flaming. Nick had won. AJ ducked his head and studied his heads. He could hear them laughing again, fading slowly as they left for good.
AJ knew what would happen from there. Same game as always. Christ, AJ had taught Nick the game. But that was before. Way before. Now Nick was the player and AJ was the played. Funny how Fate seemed to have it in for him.
He sighed heavily and lifted the glass to his lips, draining it down. Time to leave. No reason to stay. He slid out of the horseshoe shaped booth and stood. Maybe half a second passed and Marcus was at his elbow.
"You ready?" AJ nodded slowly and started fighting his way through the crowd, keenly aware of the refrigerator at his side. He felt eyes on him, but he didn't really give a flying fuck right now. It was like he was some of circus freak.
He winced as the flashes started going as recognition set in. Couldn't even make it out of the damn place before it started.
AJ let Marcus take over and allowed himself to be led through the mass of frenetic people. He didn't even glance up, instead gazing at endless jumble of shoes until he was back into the lobby and being hustled into an elevator.
The doors closed and he watched the numbers tick away until a muffled ding sounded. The doors slid open once more and he stepped out blindly, following Marcus down the hall until he stopped in front of a door.
"You in for the night?" He nodded again, almost mechanically. He had nowhere to go. No one to go with. "Alright. I'm across the hall if you need anything." The door swung open and he stepped into the darkened suite, shutting out the world behind him.
The man stood in the middle of the room. All his shit was here. He contemplated opening the bar, but that would require effort. That, and his knees were already shaking from the amount of alcohol he had consumed thus far.
He stumbled to the bedroom and picked up his itinerary from the bed. One day gone. He ripped the page from the packet and threw it to the floor. Tommorow. Eight AM. Shit. He had to get some sleep.
The mass of papers fluttered to the floor and he began to strip down, leaving a trail of expensive clothes on his way to the bed. He crawled to the middle of the mattress and wrapped the blankets around him like a protective cocoon.
Sleep could not come fast enough.