35 Move On

For a while, Alexey tried to make fun of me, but then, from a single look, he realized that if he didn’t shut up right the fuck now, a visit to the dentist would become inevitable. I was pissed, but serious. Fight fire with fire, right? Just need to tune myself to the right wave.

So what if I fell in love? I fell, I’ll fall out. Life goes on, gotta move forward.

Only saying that is one thing. In reality, it’s a whole different mess. My heart doesn’t want to have that one bright thing ripped out of it after so many years. It fucking aches inside as we walk into one of the expensive clubs that opened recently.

“Dude, you won’t regret this!” my friend beams, dragging me inside toward the VIP area. “This place is fucking awesome! Been telling you about it forever. And the chicks? Absolute fire! Every type you can imagine, like straight out of I*******m!”

“Yeah,” I grunt, looking around.

Typical club. Dance floor lit with neon, a small stage with a pole for shows, DJ booth on the left with a screen behind him. Nice touch, four platforms in the corners for the dancers, and the girls there are… damn, very appetizing. Alex’s right, they look like models. Wonder if they fuck for money.

“Trust me, they do,” my buddy answers, apparently I said that out loud. “Any of those dancers can be taken for a private dance in special rooms. And there… you get the idea. Though with your charisma, wouldn’t be surprised if you get it for free.”

We sit down on the couches, and a juicy waitress appears instantly. Yeah, they picked the staff right here. After ordering a bunch of booze, I scan the crowd and glance toward the bar, like I noticed something familiar.

A stunning brunette sat there on a high stool, cocktail in hand, shooting glances at me. Gorgeous, polished, classy, everything in place. A tight red dress outlined her full chest perfectly, and the hem sat way above the knee, showing off long, slim legs in high heels. Graceful movements, a sultry gaze, proud posture of a real female who knows exactly what she wants.

But no, sweetheart. Not a fucking chance I’m coming over!

No more brunettes. Already had one, ran off like hell. I’ve had enough. Tonight I’m going for a blonde… maybe even more than one.

The drinks arrive and we start knocking them back. Alex leans into it hard, while I slowly nurse only my second glass of whiskey. Feels like alcohol isn’t even touching me tonight.

Fucking annoying. Everything’s annoying.

For the first time in my life, in a club, I felt out of place. And Alex noticed it.

“Damn, Shade, you’re completely out of it,” he points out the obvious, which I really don’t want to think about right now. “Was that mom really that good? Better than these chicks?”

“Alex, since when did you get so talkative?” I shoot him a dark look.

Tall, pretty boy, women like him. Not even thirty yet, but his head’s full of nothing but wind. Typical rich brat living off daddy’s money, who’s involved in some shady shit.

Yeah, my father’s one of the richest men around too, and he gave each son capital. But I built my own money, invested his into my business, and now it works for me. This one? Just a useless fuckup blowing through his parents’ cash and constantly getting into trouble. No idea why they keep pulling his ass out and funding him.

“I’m worried about my friend!” he laughs. “If you quit this life, who the hell am I gonna hang out with?”

“You’ll survive,” I smirk, looking into my glass. “And I’m not quitting anything.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Alex grins, then spots someone and disappears into the crowd.