“We did it. Thank you, Montana, for staying back.”
“I wanted to close this deal as much as you did. Oh, wow, it is late!”
I glance at my watch, it’s just after ten in the evening.
“Say, why don’t we get out of here? There is this club downtown, and there’s this act I’ve been meaning to show you. He would be great for a few talk shows we have. Plus, he is my brother,” she adds.
“Club?”
“Yeah, it’s the current ‘it’ place.” She laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulders. “C’mon, we’ve worked so hard this past month pulling these all-nighters. Let’s loosen up, a few drinks won’t hurt.”
I search her face, her eyes fixate on mine. What is that look? I have been so absorbed in my grief that I haven’t noticed her blouse buttoned down low, her long legs crossed in a very short skirt, the garters slightly peeking out below.
Fuck, Lex, turn away.
&nbs
p; Eric and Charlotte can’t be right about this one.
With a smile, I agree to go. Why? Because I’m a fucking douche, but I’m also a control freak and rarely, and I mean rarely, will I do anything out of my control, except for the night I ate out Charlotte’s pussy when she was passed out. Seriously, Lex, you are letting your thoughts go there when you have this leggy twenty-three-year-old practically laying it all out like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Montana asks to hop into my car since she prefers to have a few drinks. We spend most of the drive talking about work, nothing personal because the last thing she needs to know is my marriage is falling apart.
We arrive shortly after, and Montana’s right, the club is busy and has been labeled the current ‘it’ place. The young crowds dance seductively to the beats, it is skin-on-skin dancing at this joint. It really makes me feel old, but not to be an egotistical bastard, I could have any one of these girls in here, just like Charlotte could have had any in that bar. Great, you had to go there, Lex!
“There he is!” Montana yells over the music.
A young guy, mid-twenties maybe, walks our way. He has jet-black hair and the same tanned skin as Montana, so I assume they are related. He has a tattoo on the side of his neck which I can’t make out in the dim light.
“Mr. Edwards, this is Jett Black, my one and only brother.”
He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
“Montana can’t stop raving on about you,” I say, politely.
“Well, what are baby sisters for? Will you stay and listen to my set?”
“Sure,” I reassure him.
He pats my shoulder before kissing Montana on the cheek. We stand at the bar and have a few drinks. By the fourth, I feel myself relaxing.
“So, Jett is your only brother?” I ask Montana, breaking the code of not allowing myself to get to know any employee on a personal level.
“Yep, and I have three sisters. There’s my older sister, Carolina, then Jett, then my sisters, Dakota and Indiana. They are twins, a little older than me.”
I laugh as I take a sip of my drink. “So how did Jett escape your parents’ patriotic love for naming all their children after US states?”
She giggles, placing her hand on my hand. “I tell you what, Mr. Edwards—”
I interrupt her. “Lex, you can call me Lex.”
What the hell am I doing?
She loses her train of thought for a moment searching my face for something, licking her lips.
Shit, kill me now.
“Well, let me tell you this, Lex. Jett escaped our naming ritual because apparently, he was born with jet-black hair… but the funniest, yet grossest part of the story my father would tell us is that the moment Jett came out, the doctor congratulated my parents and mentioned his thick black hair and quote ‘for a second there I didn’t know if that was his head or your bush, Mrs. Black’… I know, right?” She laughs immensely.