Bachelor Number Five (The Bachelor Series, Volume 1) (16 page)

“You know, I’m really not the ladies’ man that you seem to think I am,” said Peter.

“Is that so?”  Amanda didn’t buy it.  “I saw that girl the other morning with the torn fishnet stockings.  She was quite something.”

Peter put a hand to his face and rubbed his cheek.  He didn’t seem to care much for this line of conversation.  “I should have known better than to try to defend myself.”

Amanda took another drink.  She knew that the alcohol flowing through her veins might cause her to say something rash, but she couldn’t stop herself now.  “How can you sleep with these girls if it doesn’t mean anything to you?  Can’t you see that you’re leading them on?”

“You don’t know these girls.  They’re not expecting anything, believe me.”

“That’s what you think.  Girls are always expecting something.  It’s in our DNA.”

“Not these girls.”

“What about Lauren?”

“That was absolutely not my fault!”  Peter was becoming slightly agitated.

“You could have said no.”  Amanda regretted her words as soon as she’d spoken them.  It wasn’t fair to press him so hard.  Peter hadn’t been anything but kind to her so far.  “Look, I’m sorry.  Forget it.  It’s not my place to judge you.”

“Why does sex have to be
anybody’s
fault?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

“It shouldn’t have to come with obligations.”

Amanda shook her head.  Despite the limoncello’s effects on her brain, she knew that this comment was better left unanswered.  The truth was, she wouldn’t have minded being one of those girls, sneaking out of his apartment bright and early on a Sunday morning.  That was the last thing either one of them really needed, though.  “It is a great view from up here, isn’t it?” Amanda changed the subject.

“Yeah, I guess.  I don’t usually come up here.”

“Too busy dancing?”

“Sometimes we get bottle service.”

“What is that exactly?”

“Basically you pay for one of those tables down there and they charge you a ton of money to bring out full bottles of booze.  You thought these drinks were expensive?  With bottle service you drop some serious cash.”

Amanda scanned the tables on the main level, covered with bottles of liquor, mixers and glasses and surrounded by well-heeled revelers on padded seats.  “If it cost so much, why would anyone do it?”

“It’s all about status.  Impressing people.”

“I knew you were a ladies’ man…”

Peter laughed and shook his head.  “Here we go again.”

“You’re certainly not doing much to prove your innocence.”

“Maybe where you come from the girls expect a ring, but around here they’re pretty happy with a good night of bottle service.  That’s what they’re after.”

“And if you want what
you’re
after, you have to give it to them.”

Peter looked right and then left in jest.  “Can I get a public defender here?  I don’t think I should answer these questions without a lawyer.”

“Too bad Samantha dumped you.”

“Ouch!  You play rough!”

Amanda couldn’t suppress a grin.  “I can’t help it, you make an easy target.”  She turned her attention back to the people sitting in the booths down below.  There were the usual scantily clad women with too much cleavage and guys who looked like they might be gangsters of some kind; burly with shaved heads and tattoos.  One table had a middle-aged businessman in an expensive suit with a woman half his age.  Amanda couldn’t help but wonder if that would be Peter in 20 years, still chasing whatever it was that he was after.  She preferred to think that he’d have this lifestyle out of his system by then.  She liked to believe that he’d settle down at some point to raise a family of his own, but then that was his business.

Amanda was just about to turn away when she saw something that made her heart nearly stop.  It was a woman in her 20’s; tall, blond and thin.  She wore a sleek and shiny blue dress and sat with her bare legs tucked up onto her seat as she leaned forward, her full attention on her man, staring into his eyes as though they were the only two people in the place.  “Oh my god,” Amanda said quietly to herself.

“What?  You see someone you know?”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe what?”

“It’s her?!”

“Ok, you’re going to have to be a little bit more specific than that.” 

“That woman in the blue dress,” Amanda pointed.  “Do you know who she is?”

Peter peered over the rail, scanning the crowd until he spotted the woman.  “I don’t think so.  Should I?”

“Scarlett Hawkins?!”

Peter put his hands up in the air.  “Who?”

“The Bride!” Amanda turned back to him in disbelief.

“What bride?”

Amanda shook her head dismissively and then focused her attention back below, everything else dissipating into a fog, as though Scarlett Hawkins and her unknown accomplice really
were
the only two people in existence.  Who was he?  And what was she doing with him?  Amanda tore her focus away long enough to scan the club for television cameras.  Could this all be part of the show?  But then, why was she not with one of the bachelors?  She was due to marry one of them in just a few more weeks, yet from the look of things, Scarlett Hawkins couldn’t have cared less.  Amanda’s pulse raced as Scarlett leaned forward and kissed this mystery man on the lips.  Amanda put a hand in front of her face.  “I can’t watch.”

“Do you know that woman?”

“She’s on the show I told you about. 
The Bride
!”

Peter watched Scarlett himself for a few seconds before his face showed some recognition.  “Oh, I get it!  Your crush!  The guy on your bulletin board.”

Amanda didn’t answer.  She was too busy peering through her fingers as the couple in question cavorted on their sofa.

“That guy I ran into, right?!” Peter continued.  “At the diner?  Is that the girl he’s trying to marry?”

“That’s the idea.”  Amanda pulled her hand down from her face and turned back toward Peter.  She knew she shouldn’t care.  These people were strangers to her; Scarlett Hawkins and Grant Hutchinson and all of the other bachelors.  Amanda had no connection to any of them whatsoever, aside from watching them on a reality TV show, but she couldn’t help but feel offended by what she’d just witnessed.  Sure it made no sense, but Amanda felt what she felt.  This shallow, duplicitous woman didn’t deserve Grant.  The fact that she might still win him made the universe seem entirely unfair.

“By the shade of red you’re turning, I’d say that you don’t approve,” said Peter.

Amanda looked back down to see Scarlett Hawkins climbing all over her date, their lips locked together, tongues deep in each other’s mouths.  It was too much for Amanda to take, as though something snapped inside her brain.  She picked up her drink, intending to dump it over the railing and onto the ravenous couple below but the glass was empty.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked with some concern.

“I can’t take this.  I’m sorry.”  Amanda wanted nothing more at that moment than to get out of there, as quickly as she possibly could.

“Can’t take what?” Peter asked.

Amanda hardly heard.  She hopped to her feet and made a bee line for the stairs, bumping people aside as she made her way down.

“Hey, hold on!” Peter shouted out as he chased after her.

When Amanda got to the main floor, she continued around the bar and then headed for the exit.  One unfortunate fact was that to get there, she’d have to walk right past Scarlett’s table.  She put her head down and tried not to look as she barreled on by, but at the last moment as she nearly brushed the amorous couple, Amanda turned her head to see them groping and kissing right beside her.

“Hey!” Amanda finally shouted purely out of instinct.  “Hey, knock it off!” she tried again as she froze in her tracks and then reached over to poke Scarlett in the shoulder. 

Scarlett Hawkins turned to look, her blond hair hanging in her face, lipstick smeared across her mouth.  “Who are you?”  She squinted in confusion.

Amanda’s eyes narrowed.  There was so much she wanted to say.  Amanda wanted to tell her off.  She wanted to scold her.  Her mouth opened, yet nothing more came out.  She felt faint, as though she might drop to the ground where she stood until she felt a steady hand on her arm.  “Come on, I think it’s time to go.”  She looked around to see Peter standing next to her.  Amanda nodded and took a few unsteady steps.

“What a freak,” said Scarlett as Peter led Amanda away.

“It’s ok,” said Peter quietly.  “I think we’ve both had enough of this place.”  He escorted Amanda back past the bouncer and on out the door.  By the time they reached the sidewalk, Amanda’s whole body was shaking.  By now her anger and frustration was being replaced with a growing sense of shame.  When she saw Peter’s expression, his eyes gave away exactly what he thought; that she’d completely lost her mind.  Or maybe he figured she’d been crazy all along.

“You don’t understand…” Amanda tried to explain.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” he replied.

Amanda shivered in her thin black dress, clutching her arms tightly to her body.  Peter looked at his wristwatch.  “It’s not even midnight.  You want to go someplace else?”

Amanda shook her head.  “I think I’ve had enough.”

“We can’t go home this early on a Saturday.”

“Maybe it will do you some good.”

Peter glanced up and down the sidewalk.  “I’ll tell you what…  How about if we go grab some food?  That diner I like to hit up is only a few blocks from here.  It’s the same place I spotted your crush last week.  Maybe he’ll even be there.”

Amanda perked up.  “Food could be good.”

“They make a great chili cheese burger.”

“Uhhh, I think I’ll leave that one to you.”

“Ok, come on.”  Peter headed up the sidewalk.

“Do you think he’d be there this early?” said Amanda, hot on his heels.

Peter laughed and shook his head.  “You are kind of pathetic, you know that?”

“I know.  You don’t have to tell me.”

“I have to admit, it is somewhat endearing to see such a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“The emphasis is on hopeless.”  He gave a wry smile.  This time Amanda wound up and punched him in the arm.  “Ow!” he said.

“You deserved that!”

“All right, let’s go, I’m freezing my butt off out here.”

“You’re the one with a jacket…” Amanda pointed out as they hurried down the block.

Chapter Eighteen

Just in case she’d had any other ideas, Amanda knew without a doubt that this wasn’t a date when she saw the enormous, dripping chili cheeseburger on her plate.  She never would have ordered something so incredibly messy if she was worried at all about her appearance.  By this point, Amanda had already embarrassed herself enough in front of Peter that a sloppy cheeseburger wasn’t going to make a difference.  The two of them were two completely different people, with diametrically opposed views on love and life.  There could never be anything between them.  That’s what Amanda told herself, though she couldn’t banish the slight hint of a question about something he’d said. 
I like your company
.  The words still lingered, despite her best intentions.  Of course, how much did that actually mean?  Not much, Amanda knew.  The two of them were becoming friends, and that was all she was looking for.  She liked Peter’s company, too.

“What’s wrong?”  Peter sat across from her in a blue vinyl booth.

“Nothing!  It looks great!”  Amanda wrapped her fingers around the greasy bun and slowly lifted it up, gobs of chili and melted cheese dripping onto the plate.

“Bon appétit.”

“Yeah.  We’ll see about that.”  She opened her mouth wide and took a bite before slowly chewing.

“Well?” Peter asked.

Amanda swallowed her mouthful.  “I knew I should have ordered the fruit plate.”

“Oh, come on!  Don’t tell me that’s not the best chili cheeseburger you’ve ever had!”

Amanda tilted her head to one side as she looked at the burger.  “It does kind of hit the spot.”

“See?!  They’re even better after 2 a.m.  By then you’ve really earned it.”

“You’re not going to start laying a guilt trip on me are you?”

“No, look, forget it.  I’m sorry.”

“I know I ruined your night.  You don’t have to rub it in.”

“You did not ruin my night!”

Amanda furrowed her brow as she tried to decide if he was telling her the truth.  She was happy to have his company either way.  Amanda took another bite of her burger and looked around the restaurant.  It was a typical diner, not much different from Lucy’s place, only the décor was newer.  The tables shone and the blue upholstery glistened under neon lights.  The uniforms on the wait staff were a crisp, clean white.  At half past midnight the restaurant was still more than half full.  It was definitely not Quincy, where everyone would be home fast asleep by this hour.  “Is this place always so busy?” she asked.