Adelaide
Alovely man named Angelo drove me to the club.I tried to apologize for the late hour, but he assured me this was when he always worked and he preferred driving in the city when most people were sleeping. He told me all about his family, but when I asked if he knew anything about the club, his lips were sealed.
Thankfully, he kept my mind busy with other conversation. I refused to think about why Adam was at the club and what he’d done there. He wasn’t mine. We weren’t anything anymore. The dagger in my chest didn’t belong there.
The outside of it was just a building, nothing special, except for the giant man in a black overcoat and leather gloves standing in front of the door. He ushered me in, where I was met by Andrew, who looked every bit like his voice. Beautiful suit, perfectly coiffed hair, a pencil-thin mustache. He didn’t quite fit the image of a sex club operator, but what did I know?
Andrew led me directly to his office down a corridor near the front entrance, so I didn’t see any of the club. Inside, Adam was slumped in a chair, his head hanging low. At the sound of our entrance, he jerked, his bleary eyes searching for me.
“Baddie,” he drawled. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”
He looked bad. It had only been three days, but he was a bedraggled mess. His hair was overgrown and tangled, stubble closer to a beard, eyes bloodshot.
“Come on.” I waved him over. “It’s time to go home.”
“That’s not even home anymore.” He tried to snarl, but it came out crooked and twitchy. “You’re not there.”
I sighed. “Get your butt out of the chair and let’s go. I’m tired and I’d like to go back to sleep.”
He pushed up from the chair slowly, wobbling when he was at his full height. Once he found his feet, he tromped over to me and lifted one of my curls in his hand.
“Did you even miss me?” he asked softly.
“We’re not doing this. I’m here to help you home. That’s it.”
“I’m going home with you.” He sniffed my hair. “You smell the same.”
Andrew gestured to the door with a subtle flourish. “Please, out this way. Angelo is waiting.”
Adam threw his arm over my shoulder, nearly knocking me down with its deadweight. He was steady on his feet, though, walking next to me to the exit, which led me to believe he didn’t actually need me to support his drunk ass.
As soon as we pushed outside, someone called Adam’s name from down the sidewalk. Our heads turned at the same time, and a flash, followed quickly by several more, went off. I saw spots. Suddenly, the car at the curb seemed miles away.
“Shit,” Adam grumbled. “We needa go.”
He pulled me tight into his side as the club’s bouncer sandwiched me in on the other side. More flashes went off, and shouted questions bombarded us. The paps were asking who I was, what we were doing in there, if I was Adam’s girlfriend, and most absurdly, when the next TSC album would be dropping.
Drunk as he was, Adam made sure I was bundled securely in the car before he climbed in and slammed the door closed. Angelo took off, leaving the bright lights of the cameras behind us. He had Adam’s address, so he didn’t need any directions from me.
I felt Adam staring at me in the dark of the back seat. I kept my eyes locked on the window, refusing to fall apart. Because I would. If I talked to him, looked at him, acknowledged in any way where I’d just picked him up, all the progress I’d made would disintegrate until it was like it had never happened.
“Are we ever gonna talk?” he asked softly.
I sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe. Not tonight.”
“I can’t even call you. You blocked me, baby.” My hand was in his before I knew what was happening. He held it firmly, stroking my knuckles with his thumb. “I have to wait for you to come to me while I go crazy trying to figure out what the fuck I did. How did I mess up so fucking big? You’re killing me, Adelaide.”
Every word was slurred into the next, but behind the alcohol was a melancholy that matched mine so perfectly, it threatened to drag me into that black pit right beside him.
I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? I wasn’t ready to have this conversation. He was right. It had to happen. Not tonight, though. Maybe not next week either, but soon.
As we approached our building—no, Adam’s building—Angelo slowed, preparing to pull up to the curb. As soon as it came into sight, he stomped on the accelerator, passing it by in a blur.
I didn’t miss the scores of paparazzi loitering on the sidewalk outside the entrance.Damn.The guys at the club must have called their buddies and they were waiting for us.
“Is there somewhere else I can take you?” Angelo eyed me in the rearview mirror. “Or I can keep circling until they get tired of waiting.”
“Just dump me in the gutter,” Adam mumbled.