“Nope, just stating a fact.”

“Seems like you’re trying to fucking instigate me.”

“Is it working?” he asked with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re a fuckwit, you know that?”

“Yup,” he smiled. “Seriously though, if you ever want to talk….”

“Got it, thanks,” I replied as the song playing over the loud speakers ended.

Diego wiped his brow with his forearm. Privately, he made a comment to the girl. She nodded and took off toward the back, looking rejected. Diego stood in the middle of the ring with his hands on his hips and shaking his head.

“Looks like you’re not the only one having a rough day,” Blane said while nodding at Diego.

Defeated, Diego walked toward us but stopped off at the bar quickly to grab a handful of beers. He pulled a seat from another table set and sat in it backward while placing the beers on the table for all of us.

“Fuck, she was terrible,” Diego huffed while knocking off the cap using the edge of the table.

“Why did you hire her?” Blane asked. “I mean, killer fucking body, but she looks like a robot up there.”

“Tell me about it. She said she was nervous with you guys watching.”

“She realizes there will be an audience of more than two people, right?” Blane asked.

“You hope there is.” I smirked over my beer.

“There will be more than two people, jackass,” Diego countered. “When I interviewed her, she was confident and sexy as hell. She has an extensive dance background. Apparently she forgot to put brilliant liar on her resume as well.”

“Did you can her?” Blane asked.

“Nah, not yet. Figured I would give her one more shot.”

“Didn’t know you were running a charity,” I said.

Diego smirked at me. “Damn, who chewed on your dick and took off?”

“Your mom,” I responded with a grin, swallowing a large gulp of beer.

The floors in the hallway creaked, letting us know someone was approaching. In seconds, Jett appeared with a gorgeous Goldie at his side.

The lucky fuck got to take her wherever he wanted, hold her when he pleased, and live his life with a sassy yet beautiful woman that would turn the head of any man.

I’d had such a crush on her, “had” being the key word.

Hell, she’d turned my world around the first time I held a conversation with her. I can still remember the day Jett came home to the Lafayette Club after a trip to the cemetery. He’d told me I needed to make room for another Jett Girl. There were already four. Adding another would have made things uneven, but he’d been adamant about it. I hadn’t understood, but I’d accommodated him and moved Francy to bartender permanently. It had actually worked out because she was more excited handing out drinks than dancing for the city elites.

Jett’s constant need to add Goldie to the lineup had been confusing to me. I hadn’t understood the urgency, but then I’d met her in daylight, at a restaurant, and she’d flipped my entire world upside down. A little piece of me had hated Jett that day because he’d found her first.

The only shred of hope I’d held on to was the fact that Goldie had to decide if she actually wanted to become a Jett Girl. If she’d decided against signing the contract, then she was fair game and there was no doubt in my mind that I would have gone after her, but she chose to sign, making her off limits.

There were nights when I’d lain alone in my bed, praying she would come find me, come talk to me just so I could hear her sweet little voice ramble on about God knows what. But she chose a different man, a more dignified man.

I knew she wasn’t meant for me, but at the time, I’d wished for once I had been able to hold something positive in my life.

And then came Lyla.

I’d thought I knew what it felt like to be knocked on my ass by a woman, but damn had I been wrong.

Lyla had swept into my life and grabbed me by the motherfucking balls with a vise grip, never letting up. She still clutched them now, even from so far away.

“How the hell did we get so lucky to have you grace us with your presence tonight?” Diego asked Jett.

Goldie and Jett walked into the main room, holding hands and smiling brightly. Their love was sickening, and I was fucking green with envy.

“I wanted to show Jett all the rooms I painted.”

Goldie was a brilliant artist and had painted murals and designs on the walls to coincide with the theme of each room. I’d had the opportunity to look at some of her work and would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.

Jett nodded in greeting. “How’s the hangover?”

“Sitting pretty,” I responded with a tilt of my beer bottle. His jaw tensed when he saw the alcohol in my hand. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s only a couple of beers.”

“That’s cute,” Blane said. “That you call him Mom. Do you suckle his tit too?”

“Watch it,” I warned, not really in the mood.

“Blane, don’t you know you can’t joke with Kace?” Goldie chimed in, her arms crossed and looking pissed. I didn’t blame her. I’d wronged her best friend and was usually a dick to her.

“Calm down, little one,” Jett cooed. “He’s having a rough day.”

“When is he not?” Goldie rolled her eyes and took off down the hall.

Jett gave me an apologetic look and went after Goldie.

“Taming her has got to be a damn good time,” Diego said.

“It’s not fucking easy,” I responded, knowing damn well how hard it was to wrangle her in.

“How’s the community center?” Blane asked. “Is it open yet?”

Honestly, I had no clue. It was supposed to be opening soon, but my alcohol-induced coma had left me currently unaware of where the community center stood. Nausea and dread continuously flowed through me, making my days uncomfortable.

It wasn’t like me to skip out on my responsibilities, especially when I was in charge, but the dark abyss I slipped into after my night with Lyla was hard to climb out of. That combined with the fact that I had almost missed Madeline’s birthday had my stomach churning at an alarming rate.

“Don’t know,” I answered.

“Can I be honest with you, man?” Blane asked, looking serious.

“Don’t stop now,” I encouraged.

Rolling his eyes, Blane said, “Why are you letting your demons win? Why are you letting them run your life?”

“Because I don’t deserve a life,” I replied, like the Debby fucking downer I was.

“Fair enough.” Blane sipped his beer. “I don’t understand what happened, and I will probably never know your story, but damn, man, you have to at least give the people around you a chance to include you in their life. You’re a good guy, a fucking fun guy when your head isn’t shoved up your ass. If you want to grieve, be depressed about the hand you drew, by all means, go ahead and fucking grieve, but when you’re around your friends, people who care about you, just fucking lighten up for an hour or so, because damn, you’re disheartening to be around.”

The motherfucker had a serious point, and I hated it.

I nodded at Blane, drained the rest of my beer, and got out of my chair. “Sorry about killing your buzz, dude.”

I walked away while both Diego and Blane called after me, but I ignored them. I wasn’t leaving because I‘d been told I was being a giant pussy. I left because what Blane said was so right.

It hit me like a fucking sucker punch to the liver. The people in my life were important to me, and even though I was living a different kind of life than they were, that didn’t mean I had to be a dick to them. They weren’t the ones who’d fucked up. They were just the unfortunate souls who had to deal with my moody ass.

Contemplating what Blane said, I walked down the hall toward my space. Jett and Goldie stepped out of one of the rooms.

“Hey,” I said as they spotted me.

“Where you off to?” Jett asked. Goldie stood next to him, avoiding eye contact with me, and acting defiant. I wouldn’t expect anything less from her.