Fighting Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 2) (2 page)

     “What’s the matter, you don’t like sex or orgasms?” the blond man asked as he towered over me on my stool. 

     “I’m not in the habit of discussing my personal life with perfect strangers,” I replied acidly.

     He gave me what I guessed was supposed to be an innocent look but for the gleam in his eye, and held up both hands in a surrendering gesture. “Hey, I’m just asking about your drink preferences.   I don’t know what else you think I might mean.”

     I rolled my eyes at him.  “That sort of approach may work with the college girls around here, but you’re going to have to do a lot better than that with me.”  I looked him up and down, then turned to receive the drink the bartender had put in front of me.

    The man pulled out his wallet and attempted to pay for my drink, but I put up my hand right away.  “No thank you.  I can pay for my own drink.”

     He sighed dramatically then asked, “Can I at least sit next to you and enjoy your remarkably friendly attitude?”

     Despite myself, I chuckled.  I was a sucker for a smart-ass.  I nodded toward the stool next to me and said, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the mechanics of sitting, so I suppose you can.  Whether or not you may is what’s in question here.”

     “What would I need to do to be allowed to sit next to you for the next hour or so?” he asked, taking the seat anyway.

     “I suppose asking you to be quiet would be too tall of an order?”

     He leaned his elbows on the edge of the bar as he laughed and nodded.  “Yes.  Anyone who knows me knows that would be like asking the earth to spin in the other direction.”  He thrust his hand toward me and said, “Hi.  I’m James Calloway, or just Jim, if you prefer.”

     Not trusting his sudden display of propriety, I hesitantly placed my hand in his large, rough one.  “Anastasia Steele.” I said, feeling cheekier by the moment.  “You can call me Ms. Steele.”

     He gave me another cocky grin and said, “Well Ms. Steele, I guarantee we’ll be on a first name basis by the end of the night.”

     “You’re very sure of yourself.”

     “You’re very astute.  If nothing else, I know exactly who I am and what I want,” he said as he looked at me with those intense brown eyes, “and I know how to get it.” 

     I felt a little ripple run down my spine.  He may have come off a little bit boorish, but he was definitely growing on me.  I could instinctively tell that every word out of his mouth was craftily calculated.  Not because he actually thought these lines would work, but because he was trying to have one over on me.  He wanted to see me react, be it as a giggling bimbo or an aghast proper lady, he didn’t much care one way or the other.  He simply enjoyed trying to pull my strings.

     “And just whom are you, Mr. Calloway?” 

     “I already told you.  I’m James.”

     “So you did and it revealed all,” I said sarcastically with a sip of my drink.  Greyhound—tasty one that.  One day I’d have to branch away from the vodka though.  Or not.

     “Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of prickly Anastasia?” James asked.

     “Prickly?  Funny, I was going to say the same about you, however I think I mean it differently than you do.”   

     He threw his head back and laughed throatily.  “Damn, woman.  Would it kill you to be nice for two seconds?  I’m only trying to make pleasant conversation with you.”

     I turned sideways on my stool and gave him a careful once over.  Yes, he was definitely a sexy man, and while the last thing I would call him was charming, he had a definite type of swagger to him.  He was what I would call an All-American male, but I don’t mean in a college football hero sort of way.  He was all testosterone and broad shoulders with a cocky personality to go with them.  I could tell he was a hit it and quit it kind of guy.  Maybe not as callous as that, I didn’t know, but he was not a relationship guy.  I wasn’t sure how I knew this from the kind of conversation we’d been having, but somehow I could tell.  He definitely wasn’t Mr. Romance that much was sorely evident.  This got me thinking.

     I looked at my suddenly empty glass and said, “Perhaps I’m just not sufficiently lubricated.  From what I understand, it helps things progress a little more smoothly.”

     He looked at me suddenly wide eyed.  Yep.  Direct hit.  I did a little dance inside.  I may have had to sink to his level to deliver a direct blow, but man it was worth it just to shut him up for a minute.  Sadly, he recovered far too quickly.  Of course he did.  He had years of being a dick on me.

     “Normally I have them wet and begging for more all by myself, but I’m not above using a little assistance when matters call for it,” he said raising his hand to signal the bartender.  When he came over, James said, “She’ll take a double of whatever she’s having, and I’ll have another Scotch.”

    I felt a small twinge when he ordered the Scotch, but brushed it aside.  Some things would always be a reminder of Vance, but at least they didn’t hurt anymore.

     We bantered back and forth over several drinks with him growing more and more attractive with each one.  His jokes lessened and took on a much less abrasive quality when he did make them.  I found myself actually enjoying his company after a time.  We didn’t talk about personal or heavy things, mostly soft topics like the people in the bar and casino.  We made up stories about them--why they were there, what they were doing, etc.

     “See that guy over there in the corner?”  He pointed to a tall, skinny guy in a rumpled suit with a haggard face sitting in a booth in the back of the bar.  He was hunched over his glass looking miserable.  “He’s lost his ass at the blackjack table and is now waiting for the high-priced call girl he ordered.”

     “Yes,” I said.  “Only he doesn’t know how he is going to tell her that he isn’t going to be able to pay her for the night.”

     “Yep,” James said nodding in mock sympathy, “and Bruiser, her pimp, is not going to be happy because it’s the third time this month.”

    “Wow.  Don’t you think we should help him?’ I asked.

     “What do you want me to do?  Loan him five bills so he can get his rocks off?”

     “No!  Save him from an ass-beating, James!”

     “Now how is he ever going to learn if we do that?” He looked at me pointedly before tossing back the last of the contents of his glass and raising his hand to signal for another.

     I giggled softly and tried to straighten my face into something more appropriate for our   pseudo-serious conversation.  “Well, we should at least smuggle him out of here and give him a ride to safety.  You said this was the third time this month.  I’m sure Bruiser gave him the what-for the last two times and it didn’t make a difference.  Bruiser doesn’t sound like a pushover.”

     The bartender put the fresh drink in front of James and looked at me questioningly.  I slid my glass over to him, nodding my head for another.  I probably should have thought about quitting for the night, but honestly, I was just having too much fun.

     “I have a better idea, Anastasia.  Why don’t you go over and get cozy with him.  That way, when Bubbles shows up, she’ll see that he’s already procured company for the night, and she’s lost her john.”

     “Not a bad idea as far as plans go, but won’t that put me in a precarious position?  Won’t Bubbles want to kick my ass?”  I hiccupped.

     “Nah.  Happens all the time ‘round these parts.  Now scoot.”

     The bartender pushed my drink in front of me with a look that told me he thought this was a bad idea.  I smiled happily at him, believing I was doing my good deed for the week while James paid for our drinks. 

     I got up from my seat and nodded at James.  “All right partner, I’m going in.  You’ve got my back if anything goes hinky, right?”

     “I’m your wingman, gorgeous.  You can count on me,” he said with a salute.

     I wiped my suddenly damp palms on my skirt before picking up my drink and strolling over to the unhappy-looking man.  He didn’t even look up as I approached.

     I cleared my throat softly to get his attention.  “Go away,” he said morosely.

     I cleared it again before replying, “You look like you could use some company, Sir.”

    He looked up at me wearily.  “I don’t have any money so go peddle your charms to someone else, Blondie.  You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

     “I don’t know what you mean.  You just look sad so I thought I’d come over and see if I could try to cheer you up.  I don’t want anything from you.”

    He snorted.  “Other than five hundred dollars for the pleasure, you mean.”

    I pinned him with a direct stare.  “You are an asshole.  Do I look like some kind of whore to you?  Have you been drunk and broke in casinos so long that you forgot that not all women are prostitutes?”

     I turned on my heel to leave, totally caught up in our pretend scenario.  As I took a step away, I heard the man call out, “Wait.  I’m sorry.  Come back.”

     I turned back to look at him.  He still looked broken down, but he had an apologetic look on his face.

     “You’re right.  I’m sorry.  Please come sit.  I could use the company after all.”

     I smiled brightly at him.  “You’re doing the right thing,” I said.

     He looked at me a little confused but patted the cushioned seat next to him.  I slid into the booth alongside him and rested my drink on the table.

     “So you’re having a hard time?”  I said to him with the most sympathetic look I could manage. 

     He was staring at me kind of funny as he spun his glass around with his fingertips.  “You could say that,” he said. 

     “You lost money?”  I said, trying to prod him into talking.

     “I did.”  He nodded, still staring at me with a look that was beginning to look remarkably similar to a leer.

     “Do you want to talk about it?”  I asked.

     “No,” he said, as he lifted his hand and took hold of a lock of my hair and began rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

     “Uhhh, well then, what’s your name?”

     “Why don’t you just call me Sir, and I’ll call you Kitten.”

     “Um, what?” I asked, feeling my eyes grow larger.

     “Come a little bit closer, Kitten.”  He reached out and grabbed hold of my hips and slid my body closer to his so we were thigh to thigh.  I leaned my upper body as far away from him as I could as I tried to scramble away, but he kept a vice-like grip on me as he leaned forward.

     “So tell me Kitten, do you like spankings?”

      “Uhhhh, Sir,” I stammered.  This situation had gone from zero to get me out of here in no time flat.  So much for my speech about not being a prostitute.  All this guy took away from it was that while I wasn’t a whore, I must just be a slut.

     “Ahhh yes, you learn quickly…”

     “Look Mister…I think you have the wrong idea,” I said starting to panic.

      Just then, James walked up.  “Anastasia, I’ve been looking for you everywhere, darling.  Who is your friend?  He looks cute.”  He said affecting a rather flamboyant pose.

     The man quickly looked at James and said “Cute?  Kitten, who is this?”

     I took advantage of his momentary distraction and slid away from him.  I struggled not to laugh and said “Oh, this is my boyfriend, um… Christian.  Christian, this is my new friend.  I’m sorry, I didn’t get his name.”

    “That’s okay darling, we decided on a no-names policy earlier, remember?  So, new friend, are you going to come up to our hotel room and play horsey with us?  I’m sorry to be so blunt, but moonlight is burning and all that.”  James waived a hand in the air while snapping his fingers.

     “Uhh, horsey?” the man mumbled.

     “Didn’t she tell you?  You know, you ride her, I ride you?”

      I looked at James with my eyes bulging out of their sockets.  I coughed loudly to cover up the hysterical laughter that was trying to escape my lips.

     “Um no.  I’m not into that shit.  I don’t do gay,” the guy spit out bitterly looking at me red faced and angry.

     “Oh then it’s a good thing I didn’t waste any time,” James said flippantly.  “Come on love, let’s get moving.”  He held out his hand as I slid across the booth as if the devil himself were chasing me. 

     As I stood, James winked at the man and said, “Pity it didn’t work out.  You really are a cutie.  Have a good evening,” then he hurried me out of the bar and into the casino.

     Neither one of us were walking very steadily at that point, whether from the vast number of alcoholic beverages we’d consumed or the hysterical laughter that threatened to double us over,  it was hard to tell--probably a combination of both.  We continued stumbling our way through the casino until we burst through the doors leading outside and into the fresh air. 

     We both took a moment to catch our breath and just looked at each other.  “That was fun,” James said.

     “Play horsey?”  I inquired, the giggles threatening to resurface and overtake me.

     “Well I had to say something.  It just came to me in the moment.”

     “What if he had gone for it though?  He did seem to be a bit kinky, James,” I offered.