Turning back to MeShell, she handed her the receipt and her bag. “I guess we’ll see you later tonight.”
“You know it, sweet meat. I’ll be the one on stage shaking my tail feather.”
“I can’t wait.” The hell she couldn’t. This was so not how Cyn had pictured the night ending.
This was so not how Parker Maguire had pictured the night starting or being at all, for that matter. When his college buddy had called him with a business proposition, Parker’d thought, sure, a nightclub in the heart of San Fran sounded like a wonderful way to invest some money. The investment was a step away from the Hollywood scene. A way for him to branch out into something new and fun.
Good Lord, what had he been thinking? It was becoming increasingly clear he didn’t have the slightest clue what partying consisted of these days. The exact moment he apparently morphed into his father wasn’t exactly clear, but nevertheless, it happened.
The Hollywood night life had nothing on the Bay Area and that wasn’t a compliment.
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So instead of being on the crowded dance floor, groping and grinding, he was standing in the VIP balcony, feening for a cigarette, wishing he’d stayed home and merely wrote a check instead of demanding to be more than just a silent partner. Right then and there, Parker thought, silence might not have been so bad.
The crowded club and overpowering smell of desperation leaking from the pores of the half dressed girls and over dressed men reminded him why he had stopped going to meat markets such as this in the first place. That and the fact everyone he met these days wanted something from him.
His high-profile role as a wheeler-dealer in the land of make-believe ensured him a place of honor in the sexual hall of fame. In his early years in the business, Parker had caressed more pussy than a veterinarian. Surprisingly, he’d grown tired of it. The countless encounters that is, not the sex. He was bored not dead.
He was looking for more. What that entailed, he wasn’t sure, but a glance at the crowded floor assured him that more wouldn’t be found here. The only thing he’d found so far was the beginning of a headache.
Despite the balcony being enclosed, the loud music still somehow managed to seep into the room. It wasn’t as deafening as on the dance floor, but the steady thump was still mind-numbing. When had he reached the point where loud music was disturbing him, not that he would describe the pounding mix playing as music? It was more like a never-ending version of the same song being played at different speeds which just further beat home the point he was just too damn old for clubbing.
He needed a drink. Then a good kick in the ass. Maybe not even in that order. With a disgusted snort, he headed out the room and almost collided with the bouncer standing on the steps leading to the dance floor. Surprisingly, the bulky man wasn’t alone. He was in the midst of a face-off with a very attractive, yet tired-looking African American lady.
In spite of her club-like attire, which consisted of a black, midriff exposing halter-top and matching black short skirt, she seemed a bit different than the other women skulking around the club. For one, the man-hungry-hunter look was nowhere to be found in her hazel eyes, just a hint of boredom and annoyance. Also, even though her clothes were 10
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Head over Heels
sexy, they weren’t blatant, I-can-see-your-pubic-hair-runway-from-a-mile-away sexy.
Parker couldn’t speak for any other man, but he was a bit old fashioned. In his book, the one with the balls led the chase. Plain and simple.
The hallway was as insulated as the room, so it didn’t take much to clearly hear the argument at hand.
“I’m not going to tell you again.” Muscle guy had his arms crossed over his massive chest, in what Parker assumed was to be an intimidating pose. But from the annoyed look on the woman’s face, pressure was the last thing she was feeling.
“You didn’t have to tell me the first time. All you needed to do was ask. You know, just because you have a dick, doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”
“That’s it. You’re out of here.”
“Eat me,” she spat.
“Bitch.”
“Hey,” Parker shouted, angry now. He didn’t know what exactly had gone down and he didn’t care. There was a right way and a wrong way to talk to a lady. “Back down.”
Muscle guy turned around with a scowl, but when he recognized who was speaking to him, his attitude immediately disappeared. “Sorry, sir, this lady was blocking the stairs.”
“No, this lady was sitting on the stairs, for a moment.”
“It’s a fire hazard, sir.”
“Yes, because if by some off the wall chance Club A Go Go caught on fire, my big ass sitting on the second to last step was going to be the reason everyone burned up and died. Yeah, right.”
Apparently the bouncer didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. “It’s against the law, sir.”
What an ass. Parker truly didn’t invest half a million dollars in tittypolozza to referee grudge matches. Though, before he could speak, the fireball mouthed off again. “No, what should be against the law is the overpriced, watered-down drinks. Whoever owns this place needs their ass kicked.”
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“Really?” Amused now, Parker focused all his attention on the woman. “Well, as one of the aforementioned owners, should I be worried?”
“Maybe.” Her bottom lip quivered as if she was biting back a laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was in the company of club royalty.”
Her obvious amusement made it difficult for Parker to believe her. Bored no longer, Parker leaned against the wall and smiled. “Forgiven. Now if you would—”
The spitfire raised her hands, halting his words. She in essence shushed him. A first for Parker.
