Gemma looked surprised. “I meant does it make you happy to see one or think about him, but you’re thinking about both of them.”
She flushed. “I… no, of course not.”
Gemma gave her a skeptical look. “I’m young, not dumb. The world doesn’t always work the way people say it does. You can like more than one guy at a time.”
“Thanks for your permission,” said Simone dryly.
“So, what do you like about him… them?”
She shrugged. “They’re pleasant to talk to, and they were nice when another customer tried to make trouble. They seemed concerned about me, not wanting me to get into deep water with my boss.”
“So, they both like you!” she said triumphantly.
“Maybe. But maybe they have someone else, and two guys? I don’t know if I could handle that choice.”
“Maybe they don’t want you to choose. Ask.” The girl made a confident face. “If they’re involved, you can tell them to dump their girls for you.”
She grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m not a homewrecker.” She kissed Gemma on the forehead and tucked her back to sleep before leaving her room a few minutes later.
The idea of having those men love me makes me ache, but maybe I can’t right now. My life isn’t in a good place for me to even think about a relationship with a man, let alone two, and especially with someone who lives on the outskirts of the regular world. There’s Gemma to think about, not just my own loneliness.
Findinghimself lying on his own bed, still dressed, was confusing. But with his head all foggy and his vision blurry, almost anything would be confusing. He undressed and got in the shower, trying to remember what had happened. It made sense to start with what was supposed to have happened.
He was supposed to have Simone in his bed. She was supposed to be knocked out by the date-rape drug. He could vaguely remember ordering drinks. He’d taken a table by the door and parked right outside. When she got dizzy, he would help her outside to get some air, but she’d be out by the time they got to his car. He was going to bring her home, strip her clothes off, and have some fun.
Clearly that hadn’t happened. He’d read up on the symptoms of the various drugs and picked this one. The way he felt, the disorientation, the dizziness, the memory lapse, and the upset stomach told him that someone had swapped their drinks. He’d gotten the drug. They had to have been swapped—he hadn’t confused them. He’d planned it meticulously, concealing the container in his right hand and dropping it in the glass as he handed it to her. She had to have seen him do it and found a way to switch them. Or someone did. Maybe those fucking bikers…
How had he gotten home? The idea that someone had brought him home and been in his house upset him.
When he got out of the shower, he looked around his apartment. Nothing was missing. No one had touched his computers, but he turned them on and checked his secret program that told him if anyone had turned them on or tried to enter a password. No one had. The laptop he’d taken to the bar with him was missing—or at least he didn’t know where it was.
There was no sign that anyone had been there other than finding his keys and license on the nightstand. He never left them there. The keys belonged in the basket by the front door, and his license was supposed to be in his wallet with his credit cards. There was no sign of his wallet. And where was his laptop?
Someone had brought him home. But who?
He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. They hadn’t touched anything, just dumped him on his bed and left him. That made his skin crawl, but he’d survive that. Even if they’d taken his laptop, most of that could be replaced, and the important stuff was in secure cloud storage.
The real pain in the ass was that Simone would know he’d tried to drug her. Somehow, she’d figured out what he was doing and switched drinks. It had to have been her. He’d passed out in the bar, and she’d had someone take him home. More likely the bitch had just left him there, wanting other people to see him drugged, looking stupid. Sam might have gotten someone to bring him home.
He went in the kitchen and forced himself to eat some cold cereal. The idea of food sickened him, but he needed something in his stomach. He’d probably need to puke, and he hated dry heaves.
By then it was already late afternoon, and he needed to find where his car had been left. Then he’d go to Sam’s. He was sure he’d find his wallet there. Whoever had brought him home wanted him to know that people at the bar knew what he’d tried to do. They’d left it so he’d have to ask Sam for it. Or Simone.
That bitch. She needed to be taught a lesson, and this time he wouldn’t try to be subtle.
Brad madesure he got to the bar before Simone started her shift. He went straight up to Sam and gave him a steady, don’t-fuck-with-me look. “Did I leave my wallet here last night?”
Sam nodded, turned and went into the office, then came back with Brad’s wallet. When Sam put it in his hand, Brad opened it, making sure his credit cards were there. They were, and so was his cash. Aware that Sam was watching, he folded it and looked up. “Thanks.”
“Everything there?”
He nodded. “As far as I can tell.” He took his license from his shirt pocket and put it in the wallet, then stuck it in his back pocket.
Sam handed him a receipt. “Your tab from last night,” he said.
Brad sighed. Like always, Sam had run his credit card at the beginning of the night. He feared the worst as he looked at it. It was substantial and included a lot of drinks he knew he hadn’t drunk. “What…?”
“You bought a couple of rounds for the house before you passed out.”