Page 2 of One Last Time?
Thinking about it again now made me feel worse because there had to be a point somewhere along the span of my relationship with him where I must have missed something. A clue of sorts, or God… even the use of common sense. It was like I should have known at some point that the man wasn’t really mine. As I’d driven away from his apartment all I could do was blame myself for falling in to his trap. That and hoping his fucking dick fell off.
Asshole.What a complete asshole. An asshole who blindsided and manipulated me.
The worst part of it was, I actually thought he was different. My last relationship had left me heartbroken because it was the one that made me realize I had to be careful with guys who wanted to be with me because I could help them in some way. I’d been with Nick for over a year before it ended.
Of all my relationships, I’d put the most faith in that one, but Nick was an opportunist who wanted in on the real estate world. As soon as Dad helped him get his foot in the door to one of the top companies in L.A, our relationship frazzled out.
I took more care with Brody because I was so heartbroken after Nick.
I was so stupid though. So very stupid.
I’d foolishly thought it was better to align myself with nice, normal guys who were making an average living instead of the pompous overindulgent rich guys I’d grown up around.
Unlike Nick, who had some wealth but was seeking opportunity, Brody was the guy who was working his way up from scratch.
He was into software development and ran his own business, which wasn’t doing so well when we first met. Two months into us dating saw me foolishly giving him money, which I’d labelledinvestments. I’d thought that was what you did when you were a couple. You helped each other because you wanted the other to succeed. In the eight months that we’d been together I’d just given more than the average girlfriend because it was within my means.
IthoughtI took more care. Clearly, I hadn’t because it looked to me like I’d been fucking scammed by a man who already had a girlfriend and was just using me as a bank.
That was what had sent me here. To the bar for whatever drink I could get to ease away the hurt.
The hurt from disappointment and betrayal.
I continued to stare at my awful reflection looking back at me and shook my head at myself.
All that shit Brody sold me about his admiration for how hard I worked, his regard for Dad and the strong marriage my parents had were all lies. It was all a load of bullshit.
All of it.
The sexy bartender who’d served me previously came back and smiled. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked rolling his sleeves up muscular forearms.
I looked at him, leaned forward over the wooden top high counter, and considered another glass of wine.
I’d had a whole bottle to myself already. What was one more when I felt like this? Besides, the fact that I could still remember what happened earlier meant I hadn’t drunk enough.
One glass of wine hadn’t taken the edge off, and neither had a whole bottle.
I could still remember everything, and I was still pissed.
Not just with Brody, but with myself.
“Can I… have a cocktail?” I slurred.
“Sure, um, which one?” He quirked a brow which I just noticed had a cool piercing.
“Anything as long as it’s a cocktail, and while you’re there, could you bring me a bottle of rum?”
Rum… that would do the trick. Grandpa always said that. Rum, brandy, whisky, or vodka. Hard liqueur. What he called a man’s drink.
Stuff that could make you forget all kinds of shit. It might not have been the best option but that was how he said he’d dealt with Grandma’s death.
The bartender looked uncertain, but he nodded and left to get my drinks, obliging the way most people who knew who I was treated me.
Thank God I didn’t have the sort of fame most of the celeb children had. I couldn’t have dealt with that. My sisters, yes. Not me though.
I hated being in the limelight, or any kind of light. I had three sisters, and of the four of us, I was considered the more business-minded and down-to-earth type, even though people had called me the party girl in my college days and early twenties.
Dad was the eldest of his brothers and the only one to have four daughters. My uncle Patrick had two daughters and two sons, and the rest had all sons. All of them in the business in one way or another.
