Lauren Blakely - After This Night

“I don’t know. Is it? Isn’t it? Sometimes I think it takes all the time in the world, and sometimes it takes no time,” she said.

“You’re crazy about him, aren’t you?” Michele said, and her voice sounded sad.

Julia rested her elbows on the bar. “I am. Absolutely. In every way.”

“I can tell,” she said, casting her eyes down at her glass.

“I’m glad it’s obvious. Are you okay, though? You look . . .” Her voice trailed off as her bartender instincts to listen to patrons’ woes kicked in.

Michele raised her eyes, and fixed them on Julia. “I want him to be happy,” she said firmly. “My brother and I care deeply for him. We’ve been friends ever since college.” Then she added, “Clay and I.”

“He mentioned you went to school together.”

“He was there for me when I was having a hard time with my parents’ death.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It was a while ago. But I had a hard time with it in college, and he was there for me,” she said, and it was the second time she’d voiced that word – college. She glanced over at Clay as he chatted with Cam, blowing streams of smoke. Clay reached for his phone, flicking his thumb across the screen casually. Strange for him to be on his phone, Julia thought; he rarely was. But then he put it away quickly.

“I’m glad he was there for you,” she said, and Michele simply nodded, barely listening as she looked at Clay. That’s when it hit her—it hadn’t been a mere coincidence when Michele had watched his hand on her thigh earlier in the game. It wasn’t a coincidence at all. It was a sign of longing, and now Julia knew something about Michele that Clay didn’t know. Something that Michele had been hiding for years.

Or maybe he did know that she longed for him. Maybe he simply hadn’t told Julia yet.

That possibility pissed her off, but somehow she’d have to use it to fuel the game.

Two hours later, she’d pushed thoughts of Michele aside. Clay was with her and only her. Julia might be possessive, but she was not a jealous woman. How could she be jealous when she was closer to her goal? She was almost halfway to the prize, and Liam was making bigger and bigger bets. God bless an actor like him. He was simply flush with cash and didn’t seem to mind parting ways with it.

She revealed her two aces, and Liam laughed, shaking his head. “Got me again,” he said, shoving all the chips to Julia since everyone else was out for this hand.

Another step closer. She felt buoyant, bubbles rising to the surface. She could do this. She could win on her terms. Be free of her debt. The way she wanted to, by clawing her way out of her troubles. The prospect of not having to rely on Clay’s bailout sent a surge of adrenaline through her. She didn’t want a safety net. Her blood pumped faster, turbocharged with anticipation. She could taste freedom on her tongue, like sweet sugary crystals, and that drove her as they played another round, then another, and each time, she added to her totals.

Clay leaned in to nuzzle her neck. “You’re winning, gorgeous. I knew you would.”

“Don’t jinx me,” she said softly.

“No jinxes. Just complete confidence in you.”

A blast of pride raced through her. He was proud of her because she was good, because she’d earned it. Clay was the opposite of her ex. Dillon had taken her for a ride and fooled her. Clay was upfront about everything, and he believed in her. He’d never try to hoodwink her. “I’m glad you feel that way about me,” she said as he knocked back a scotch. “Want me to freshen that up for you?”

“No, bring me a Purple Snow Globe or a Heist. The drink you named for me. Or wait. I have a better idea. Make me a new drink and call it the Long Distance Lover,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

She laughed. “You want me to whip up an impromptu cocktail? You don’t even like mixed drinks.”

“I might if you made me one, but I’d probably just want to lick it off of you,” he said, his dark eyes raking over her.

“You’re drunk.”

“I assure you, I would lick it off you sober, drunk, bone-tired, or sick as a dog,” he whispered in her ear, flicking the tip of his tongue over her earlobe.

“I’m changing your name to Captain PDA.”

“What can I say? I have my woman here with me, and I’m out with my good friends. All is well in the world,” he said, then pulled back to catch Liam’s attention across the table.

“Liam, we have a bartender in the house. Let her show you how much you wish you had her drinks on your menu here at Speakeasy.”

Julia rolled her eyes, and pushed his shoulder. He grabbed her and kissed her on the lips.

“Man, do I need to book you a room at the Plaza?” Cam said, slamming his hand on the table.

“Yeah, ‘cause we know you have connections everywhere,” Clay said.

“Hey, I told you I got out of that racket.”

“Well, you two boys just keep up the chest thumping, and I’ll go a-mixing,” Julia said, heading to the bar. She perused the offerings, considering gin, vodka and rum, then decided to start with a tequila as the base, adding in some fruity mixers, a little lemon soda and then something special—a secret ingredient. She held up a glass when she was done. “Who wants to be my guinea pig for the Long Distance Lover?”

Liam raised a hand, waving broadly. “My place. I go first.” He trotted over to the bar, brought the glass to his lips, and tasted. “Mmm, this is superb,” he said, smacking his lips. “You’re like a mad scientist of the liquorian variety.”

“Call me a chemist. I’m all about new flavors,” she said with a big smile.

“You need to text me the recipe.”

She shook her head. “A good bartender doesn’t give up her recipes for free.”

“Then give me your number and we’ll make a deal for it.”

She pointed her finger at him playfully. “Now you’re talking,” she said, and rattled off her number.

Liam spun around and used his big stage voice to call out to the table. “Everyone needs one of these.”

After whipping up more cocktails, she returned to the table and served drinks to the rest of the players.

“Mmm, I love it,” Clay said to her after he tasted the drink. He was pretty carefree and happy. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening him up. Or maybe it was because she was winning. He pulled her into his lap.

“Since when do you like mixed drinks?”

Julia looked up to see Michele asking Clay the pointed question.

“Every now and then I like to break out of my habits,” he said.

“You’re always a scotch drinker,” the brunette added pointedly, and there was something protective in Michele’s voice. Almost like a lover, or an ex. An ex who knew things about someone. “You were never like that in college.”

“I was never a lot of things in college.”

College. Julia’s ears pricked at that word. Why on earth did Michele keep hearkening back to college with Clay?

“You were some things,” Michele said.

“C’mon, enough about drinks and college. Time to deal,” Klausman said gruffly, and started doling out the cards.

Julia slid off Clay’s lap and back to her own chair. Focus, she told herself. She was almost there. She had to keep riding this wave of luck and skill to the tune of another few thousand dollars and she’d be free and clear.

She appraised her cards, and soon the betting began. Then the strangest thing happened. Michele won the next hand. And the next. And the next. With each successive win, Julia grew more tense, and she noticed Clay’s light-and-easy mood slip away. He was no longer leaning casually in his chair. He was more focused on the game, his eyes shifting back and forth, and he kept looking at his watch too. The ticking clock, winding down to Charlie.

Michele cleaned up once more with a full house that made Clay sit up straight in his chair and reach into his back pocket. Maybe for his phone. But then he stopped, resting his hands on the table, and checking out Julia’s dwindling stack of chips.

By the time the woman who’d known him since college had sliced Julia’s winnings in half, she was ready to lunge at her and it had nothing to do with her staring at Clay, but everything to do with how jealous Julia was of Michele’s hands all over the money she needed.

She probably didn’t even need it. She’d probably use it for a goddamn spa weekend, not to pay off a mob boss.

“I swear it’s beginner’s luck,” Michele said with the kind of laugh that sparkled. A pure laugh, a happy laugh, but it grated on her to no end because Julia wanted those chips to herself. “I have no clue how to play.”

“What are you going to use your money for, baby?” Liam said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. “Take me out someplace nice, will ya? I want to go to the Bahamas again.”

“Yes, and have your picture taken by someone trying to sell you real estate.”

Julia latched onto one word—Bahamas. And it nagged at her brain. “My ex is probably in the Bahamas,” she muttered.

Clay’s eyes snapped up. “Dillon?”

She shrugged. “He always said he wanted to go there,” she said in a low voice.

“He did?” Clay whispered.

“Yeah, but everyone wants to go there. He could be anywhere,” she said, and something inside of Julia coiled tightly, like a viper rising through her chest. Maybe it was her mention of Dillon. Maybe it was Michele’s carefree way with money. Or maybe it was the simple fact that when Liam kissed Michele’s neck, her eyes didn’t flutter closed. She didn’t part her lips to sigh. And she didn’t slide her body closer to his.