Page 6 of We're Just Friends
“Whatever, man. If you want to attract loose women, then you can’t be drinking water. Don’t you want to get laid tonight?”
I continued to eat my hot wings while thinking about what Hillard had said. Dropping the bone in the bowl, I blinked at him. "First of all, did you just say loose women? What is this? 1955? And no, not tonight on theloosewomen. I had a really long day at the office. Had to tie up a couple of loose ends before my trip back home.”
The waitress came over with Hillard's’ food, pausing a little longer than necessary so he could get a closer look at her breasts. She was definitely his type, wearing a tucked in Yankees jersey with a few too many buttons undone and black shorts that barely covered her ass.
As he basically drooled over her like he had never seen tits before, he nodded. “Oh, that’s right. Any big plans for you and Richard?”
“Just catching up, maybe reconnect with some locals I went to school with.” I watched Hillard grab a wing from my plate and devour it like a caveman, nodding when the waitress quickly brought his beer back.
“Maybe you’ll find a hottie to keep you company,” he said with a mouthful of food.
I shrugged and scanned the bar. There was a group of cops standing around a table, all drinking beer and laughing. A few construction workers were out back playing pool, and some college girls were trying to get free drinks from guys sitting at the bar.
I leaned back, wiping my hands on the towelette. “Yeah, maybe. I’m mainly just looking forward to relaxing and reconnecting with my family. Work has been crazy lately.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been working 16-hour days, which you would know if you ever poked your head in my office. I really need to blow off some steam.” He drank his beer while scanning the room, his gaze landing on two blondes in the corner.
Both gals were your typical dress-up dolls. Every bit of them was plucked, waxed, brushed, sprayed, and pinned perfectly together. They both had on skintight spaghetti-strapped dresses that barely covered anything. Their deep cleavage was pointed directly at us.
“Speaking of blow,” he said, holding his beer up at them and smiling.
I turned to take a better look, barely impressed with them. The girls looked to be a few years younger than us, pretty faces, and perfect bodies. The kind of woman you pay a lot of money for.
“Sugar babies,” I said, turning back around.
“What?” Hillard asked, sucking at his teeth.
“They’re sugar babies looking for a sugar daddy. Can’t you tell?”
Hillard stood up, giving them his signature pretty-boy grin, flirtatiously waving over at them. They both smiled as if they were surprised, and took a moment to stand up, wiggling as they pulled down the very short bottoms of their dresses. I could hear their high pitched voices as they excused themselves past the other men who were gawking without care.
The first thing I saw, other than their skimpy dresses, was the diamond tennis bracelet dangling from one of their wrists. I recognized it almost immediately. It was from the Cartier catalog. I had seen it when I was picking my mother out a Christmas gift the year before. It was worth about $15,000.
Hillard ordered another Guinness from the waitress, popped a breath mint in his mouth, and pushed two more chairs up to the table. He also, not so secretly, pushed his own chair back a few inches, in case the woman wanted to sit directly on his lap. It was his routine.
“Who said anything about sugar,” he said as the two women approached. “I’m just looking to blow off a little steam if you know what I mean. And since when do you care if a woman only wants you for your money?”
I rolled my eyes at the cheesy metaphor but realized that he was right. I was fully aware that pretty much every woman I had ever dated was only with me for my money. I always said that it didn’t bother me, but suddenly it kind of did.
An arm draped over my shoulder, and I glanced to my right, finding long, hot pink nails tapping on the table. The brown-eyed girl leaned back and smiled, making it clear that I was her choice, especially given the way her legs pointed in my direction when she slowly crossed them.
“I’m Crystal,” she said.
Her hand immediately went to my Rolex, and she ran her nails over it. My eyes zoomed in on her black stilettos as she sat forward, leaning into me. She followed my gaze down and shook her foot. “They’re Christian Louboutin."
She was just a few inches away from me at that point. I could have leaned forward and kissed her right on the mouth if I wanted to. I was pretty sure she wouldn't have argued a bit.
Instead, I leaned back nonchalantly. “You must be very successful to be able to afford a pair. Don’t they go for a few hundred dollars?”
Crystal shifted back uncomfortably, her eyes moving as she tried to think of an answer. I was onto her, and she knew it. I wasn’t sure what was happening with me. In the past, I would have gladly indulged myself in a one-night stand or fling with someone like her. They were always really good in bed, and went out of their way to please the man, hoping for something in return. That night, though, I just wasn’t in the mood. If anything, I was annoyed that she was so clearly after my money.
“They were a gift,” she said, leaning back.
I immediately took notice of her tight stomach. She definitely took care of herself, but I knew it wasn't for her own self-worth. Girls like her based that on what they could get from the men they hooked. Even so, I wasn't a complete dick. I didn't want to lead her on, so I glanced around the room, letting her know she didn't have my attention.
“And I’m Brandi,” the other one said, hanging off of Hillard’s lap, trying to pull my attention back to her friend.
She had ice blue eyes, but Hillard wouldn't be able to pick her out of a lineup if he had to. His attention was solely on her fake breasts. She reminded me of a woman we had a threesome with years before. She had the same eyes. Something told me those days were over, though. At least for me.
