Page 21 of Breathing Wisteria
“Not a hope in hell, asshole.”
“C’mon, I pay so much better.” He levels me with a look of pity. Yeah, money isn’t a problem for Braxton Havenworth.
“Don’t you miss seeing my face every day?” I lift my hand, glass in hand, and gesture toward myself.
“I get to see Mel’s pussy every day, which is much higher on my list of priorities.” He downs the rest of his drink in a single gulp. “You gonna tell me how it went, or are we going to play twenty questions?”
I watch him get up and pour himself another drink from the full bar in the corner of the room.
“It went well.” I rest my head on the back of the sofa, letting my eyes close.
“Did you fuck her?”
I open one eye and squint at him. “What part of what I told you would make you think we would fuck?”
“The part where you’ve been stupid in love with her for as long as I’ve known you.”
My head falls back on the couch, my eyes close once again and I ignore his question.
Brax is the only person I have ever confided in about my past. I met him in a tiny dump of a club. It was my tenth day in LA and I was trawling the bars and clubs, looking for any that would let me play. He was a rich, obnoxious asshole who was slumming it and I was a poor-as-piss, broken asshole looking for a break. We met, we drank, and we drunkenly confessed our greatest sins to each other never thinking we would see the other again.
At least that’s what I had thought. Two days later he had tracked me down and offered me a regular gig at a club owned by one of his cousins.
“She thinks it was us saying goodbye,” I snort out.
“Has she met you?” he asks incredulously, now settled back comfortably in the armchair across from me. “What are you going to do? Because I know there’s no way your stubborn ass is giving up that easily.”
I give him a sly grin. “Of course not. I have a plan, but I’m going to need your help.”
