Page 9 of Red Snow
“Aww, thank you,” the woman replies, nearly blushing from the compliment. If this greeting was a test, Marcus obviously passed it.
“Yolanda James,” Marcus says as he turns to face me. “This is my good friend I’m always talking about. This is Jarrod Granger.”
I stand up straight and extend my hand, which Yolanda takes and shakes with a friendly smile.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jarrod,” she says.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I reply. Yolanda is at least five-ten, so she’s a tad taller than me, which seems to be a kick in the gut of my ego. I’m glad I work out so I don’t feel like a complete loser standing in front of this woman.
“That guy at the door was a real asshole,” a voice says from behind Yolanda. It’s a sexy voice, but it has some bite to it, like whoever it belongs to doesn’t take shit from anyone.
Yolanda turns to the side to address the voice, and the woman standing behind her is at least five inches shorter than Yolanda is, and she has curly, dark brown hair. Her pale skin is flawless and I know she’s freezing in that tight-fitting dress, but freezing sure as fuck looks good on her.
“I’m sorry, I walked away so fast and left you hanging, honey,” Yolanda says to her before turning around and facing Marcus. “Marcus, this is the friend I was telling you about. This is Brandi.”
Marcus and Brandi shake hands, and my insides do a somersault.
Yes! She doesn’t look anything like a garden gnome!
After the introduction to Marcus, Yolanda introduces Brandi to me as Brandi Gianni, and she does it in that way that makes it obvious she’s trying to hook us up. Brandi smiles at me for a second before shaking my hand, and if I could read her thoughts, I’m sure they’d be, “Thank goodness he doesn’t look like a garden gnome. Nobody wants to fuck a garden gnome. This guy, I would gladly fuck.” If she could read my thoughts, she’d know I’m already planning on fucking her until she blacks out from orgasm overload.
“It’s nice to meet you, Brandi,” I greet, putting on my best smile. Her full lips morph into a gorgeous smile of their own, and I mentally take back all the things I said to Marcus about setting me up for failure. Well played, Marcus. Well played.
Brandi and Yolanda order girly drinks and the four of us leave the crowded bar section and head upstairs for more space. When we reach the top, we sit down at a round table and spark up conversation while the music booms in our ears.
In almost no time at all, I learn that Yolanda and Brandi are both paralegals at a small law firm in Eagle River, but Brandi has only worked there for six months, while Yolanda has worked at the firm for six years. Yolanda took her under her wing right from the jump and the two of them hit off, kind of the way Marcus and I did when we met as teenagers. Yolanda is thirty, while Brandi is twenty-six, but they’re both driven and strong-minded women. I have to admit it’s attractive on both of them. It’s not every day you meet strong, career-oriented women who are out there grinding, making it on their own and proud of it—women who are ready to outshine men in their career of choice, kicking ass and taking names to get to the top. It’s a beautiful thing to see, and sexy as fuck.
After a little over an hour, I notice something else though. While we’re having a great time and totally enjoying each other’s company with conversations about our jobs and hobbies, I can’t help but notice Marcus. I watch him sitting there with Yolanda, who I admit is a gorgeous woman with a great personality and a great career. She’s the kind of woman you take home to your mother, I can see that, although it’s a little much for me. But Marcus is enamored by this woman. I don’t know all the details about their relationship, but I can see it in Marcus’s eyes. He’s falling for her. It may have only been a few of months, but sometimes that’s all it takes.
We’ve always been partners in crime, Marcus and me. Both of us are in our thirties and dedicated to being great detectives, which consumes our lives. We’ve always come to the bars and clubs together, and we’ve always bounced around from woman to woman like it was some sort of competition. I thought that’s the way it would always be, especially after Stacey and I fell apart. But when I watch him listening to her tell a story about a client of the firm who was secretly sleeping with one of the lawyers, his eyes have this little shine in them I’ve never seen before. At least not in him.
My eyes have had that same thing before. I remember what it was like when I first saw Stacey at Rumrunners a couple of years ago. She was breathtaking, with fire engine red hair and a colorful tattoo sleeve running down her right arm. She had the ass of my dreams and the personality to match. I fell for her hard, and even with all the craziness surrounding us and the Tongue Snatcher case at the time, she fell for me, too. We were two crazy peas in a pod for a while, but with my job and her job plus school, it didn’t work out.
But I see Marcus’s face, and when you combine that face and the fact that I’ve been drinking straight Courvoisier for a while now, it turns into bad decisions. I feel myself having thoughts I know I shouldn’t have.
I miss having Marcus’s face. I know that sounds creepy, but I mean it. I miss having that look in my eye and that feeling in my heart when I look at a woman. Fuck. I miss Stacey. All the women I’ve fucked since we broke up didn’t mean a thing. It’s still about Stacey.
“Alright, everybody, let’s raise those shots,” Marcus says, interrupting my train of thought. “This is to having a great night with great people. Let’s hope the future looks bright for all of us.”
“Here, here!” Yolanda cheers, as does Brandi, who looks at me with a “you’re going to fuck me tonight, right?” face.
I smile a broken smile at her as the four of us toss back another shot together. The shot of Hennessy mixed with my Courvoisier is going to make for lots of awesome headaches tomorrow, but for tonight, it has me filled up with too many emotions.
“Y’all are gonna have to excuse me for a second, I gotta go take a piss,” I announce to the table, struggling to keep from slurring my words as I try to stand up. As I rise, I feel Brandi’s hand rub my thigh, a clear indicator of what she wants. I give her a quick glance to show her my confidence is still sky high just before walking away and weaving through the crowd to reach the bathroom.
I stand in front of the sink and take a second to look at myself. My short black hair is lined up right, my beard is edged to perfection, and my caramel skin has that filled-with-alcohol glow. I usually see myself in the mirror and know I’m going to pull any woman I want in this bar, and I’m always right. Tonight is no different, really. Right? If I choose to fuck Brandi’s brains out, it’ll happen. She’s already given me permission to wear her out. But the problem right now is that the night actuallyisdifferent. It’s different because for the first time in a while, I’m thinking about my ex.
Fucking Courvoisier.
In true drunken fashion, I let the liquor get to me and pull my cell phone from my pocket. After fumbling through all the security checks to open it, I scroll through my contacts and find Stacey’s name. Just looking at it makes me feel strange. I click on it and open up a text message thread and let my fingers go to work, even though I know I shouldn’t be doing this.
Me:Hi. It’s been a while. I was out and something happened that made me think about you. I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I’m doing great. But I thought about you. Is that weird? Am I being weird right now? I am. Shit. So text me or something. Wouldn’t mind rubbing my face against yours. K, bye.
I hear a voice inside of me screaming not to click send, but I do it anyway. Goddamn alcohol. I watch the screen, knowing there isn’t anything I can do to pull this message back, and the sound of the message being sent off is as loud as a jet engine. It’s gone.
“What the fuck did I just do?” I murmur to myself as I push the phone back into my pocket and go take a piss. While I’m peeing, the phone chimes. I want to jump to grab it, but I’m still holding my dick, so I have to wait. The last thing I need is to drop my phone in the fucking toilet in this pub. After I get myself together and wash my hands, I check the phone.
Stacey Alexander:We said we wouldn’t do this, Jarrod. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.
