I take another beer from the bar, but Haverty immediately snatches it out of my hand and puts it back.

“Listen, dipshit. It’s close to three, and you need some sleep. One’s enough for tonight.”

“Thanks Hav,” Sophia calls out.

He looks at me in an apologetic way. “I’m trying to keep you on track, buddy. Don’t fuck up and start getting shitfaced every night like you used to.”

“You have no idea what...”

“I do,” he halts my explanation. “I know a lot more than you think I know, more than you’ve told me,” he looks back at Sophia who’s walking toward us. “Look at that fucking stunner you caught.”

I laugh at the thought of catching my wife. If he only knew how she came onto me the night we met... Hell, I could have easily fucked her a few minutes into our first conversation; that is, if I hadn’t also been completely terrified of her.

“Those are where your thoughts should lie, with her and not with her father, and not with Vegas or your past,” he whispers.

“How do you know...”

“All set? Can we head out, Babe?” Sophia says. “I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, everything looks good.”

Haverty turns off the remaining lights over the bar and we head out the back door. We’ve loaned him one of the Escalades we use as a service to customers at the Scarlett. When people know they have a safe, luxurious ride home, and don’t have to squeeze into a dingy cab that smells like piss, it’s easier for them to make the decision of staying longer and having another drink with us, and then another. My father’s also using one of the cars, leaving two exclusively for the business. And Haverty’s a brilliant fucking driver. He gets us to the front of our building in less than five minutes, which everyone has learned is the allotted time my wife can keep her alcoholic mush down, anything longer and it’s a vomit fest on the back seat, or worse, on me. The movement of the car is what sets her off.

“Thanks Hav. You’re sure you locked the front door of the Scarlett, right?” I ask, stepping out.

“Checked it twice. It’s secure. Ah, and there she blows,” Haverty laughs as Sophia pukes on the sidewalk next to the car. “Like clockwork.”

I lean in to the open window and whisper so she doesn’t overhear. “Tell the bartenders to start cutting her off after two. That goes for you as well. If I’ve been denied drinks from my own bar, then it will do her some good to be as well. She and I will learn to sober up together.”

He nods and pulls away as I hold her hair. It’s clear when we’re in these moments that we shouldn’t be thinking about having a kid. Sophia has the temperament and behavior of a teenager, and I’m not much better. We were both forced to grow up too quickly and never had a chance to be kids. Now, we play off one another, both lost, and both of us totally fucked in the head. She throws tantrums and still uses sex as a way to heal or diminish her frustrations, and I can be either sweet or a complete dick, and I use sex as a way to disappear from the world and my problems.

“You okay?” I ask, as she straightens up.

“Fuck,” she wipes her mouth. “Let’s go to bed.”

CHAPTER TWO

The top floor of our building consists of three penthouse loft units. My parents own the western side and I’m often jealous of the movie-like sunsets from their terrace. Sophia and I have the unit next to theirs, with a view of the St. Louis Arch, the Mississippi river, and a radiant morning sun. One unit is empty and not for sale. It’s Sophia’s old place, a home her father bought for her before we met. That fucker. I should say he deceived us, set us up, fuck, don’t think about it. For now, until the estate is settled between David Rosen, Sophia, and her brother, that unit will stay vacant.

I’ve never met him... my wife’s brother. She doesn’t talk about him for some reason... or her mother... for good reason. I haven’t met her either, and Sophia insists I never will. From what I’ve heard, I think that’s best. She sounds like an abusive monster, and to think, that’s what Soph’s father used to say about me.

Oh shit, let’s get back to my wife. Haverty would call me a fuckhole if I ever told him this, but her long hair and soft tits shining in the morning light get my dick hard at first sight, or maybe that’s just normal morning wood. I like to believe it’s because of her. I never used to wake up this stiff before we met. Not even when I was sixteen.

And here I am holding her head as she sucks me off, thinking about these other things. Her family, my family, lofts, estates, and I’m stressed about our future and the business.

Fuck, she’s doing that flick across my tip. I need to change the game. I’m not ready to cum just yet.

“Lick my balls while you jack me off. Stop that fluttering tongue trick or I’ll blow my load.”

She laughs at my loss of control whenever she gives me head. “What if I don’t?”

“I’ll make sure I cum on your face.”

“Promise?” She snakes her tongue even faster, taking all the power. The butterfly flick if I recall. It was in one of the videos I had to watch in Vegas. I couldn’t identify the guy on the tape; too long ago, bad angle, dark lighting, fuzzy and full of lines, poor filming, but I could hear what he was saying. He described what he wanted me to do... shit, don’t lose it. You were just a fucking iron rod, think about her. Look at her. Look down at her and that body. Don’t... goddammit!

“What happened? Did I do something wrong? You’ve never gone limp on me before.”

“I’m not. My bladders about to tip; I’ll be right back,” I say. Good save. I’m not going to tell her Paul and his freaks were in my head again.

“Cove, hurry up. We’ll be late for breakfast with your mother and father.”

“Give me a second,” I yell from the bathroom. She can be so inpatient. And bossy. Kind of like my mother. Oh Jesus, I didn’t marry my mother, did I? Fuck, come on... firm up.

“I don’t believe you. I bet you’re stroking it!” she yells.

Great, she knows... or she’s teasing. “Fuck it,” I whisper, looking into the mirror with my hand tugging my dick. I’m not going to disappoint her... picture her, look down at her, slide it inside, watch her eyes roll back and her tongue lick her lips... roll her over and lick her ass.

“I hope you’re thinking about me!”

I hold my nuts and continue my visualization of her smooth naked body. Nail her ass until she screams and watch her claw at the bed to get away. Keep going. Finally. I flush the toilet in a cover-up attempt, but I know she’s gonna give me shit anyway.

She’s standing with her arms folded when I open the door. Naked, tapping her foot, giving me that look.

“What happened?” she peers at my erection with a slight grin, but then back at my face for an answer.

“I told you, I had to take a piss.”

“Don’t lie, Cove. It’s one of the most unattractive habits you have. I heard you flush twenty minutes ago when I was just waking up. Tell me what I did wrong so it doesn’t happen again. I can take the criticism.”

Her reaction cuts into my heart. “It wasn’t you. I love the way you touch me, everything you do turns me on.”

“Obviously not.” She sits on the edge of the bed as her eyes well with tears.

“You’re overreacting. I can take it when you yell and scream at me for stupid shit, but not when you break down and cry. This is a bit melodramatic. I just lost it for a second. It happens.” I know she wants an answer; it’s the only way she’ll calm down.

“No it doesn’t. It’s never happened to me before... to us. It makes me feel unattractive.”

I close my eyes and sigh. My wife’s so needy, but if I were in her shoes... if I was fingering her and she seemed disconnected, then got up and disappeared into another room, I’d be like what the fuck?