Night Shifts Black(19)

I'm not sure what to expect as I open it, but it's certainly not what I find. "Some people" means something very different to Luke Craven than it does to me. Music blares, the lights are dimmed to an uncomfortably low level, and voices swell around me. Laughing, talking, shouting, beautiful people pressed together everywhere. And sex. Lots and lots of sex. Not the shocking kind from Roman orgy documentaries, but the obscure kind, the subtle kind oozing from every flirtatious interaction and scantily clad body. The kind I'd just seen saturating every professional image of Luke. The kind that doesn't define sex as an act but as a lifestyle. It's everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

I'm about to turn and leave when I feel a hand on my arm. I spin toward it, expecting Luke, and fear I don't cover my disappointment enough when Casey leans close.

"Breakfast club girl!" he shouts toward my ear.

I force a smile. "Rock god!" I return, and he laughs. He's clearly already well on his way to a great time, and I make the decision right then to stop fearing and resenting Luke's world. How can I even start to understand him if I don't try to understand what created him?

"Where's Luke?" I ask, and Casey points toward the main living area.

"Come on! I'll get you a drink."

I can feel him looking at me as I pass, and I realize, in yet another self-shaming moment, that I don't hate the attention. In fact, it feels good to be admired. To be wanted. Even if deep down I know I would do anything to have Luke look at me the way Casey is. I also find it hilarious that he's trying to guide me through a room in which I spend more time than my own apartment. It's a valiant maneuver, however, so I allow him to show me around.

A tour guide turns out to be more helpful than I'd thought. I do my best to take in the lights and sound, but the peaceful oasis in which Luke and I have spent hours in escape has been transformed into a club-like atmosphere I barely recognize. Women who must be famous for being beautiful sway and move to the music, cocktails in hand, smiles suggesting they're waiting for something. I'm not sure what, so I quickly move on, still concerned that I don't see Luke.

"Here!" a voice interrupts behind me, and I turn to meet Casey again. He hands me an empty champagne glass and holds up a sealed bottle with a mischievous glint.

"I can tell you're cautious. You don't trust us wild rockers!" he calls, opening the seal on the bottle. He pops the cork and fills my glass. He's not wrong, and I smile in-spite of myself. I would not have accepted a drink from him, or anyone. Not unless I'd watched him pour it himself. I'm actually kind of impressed that he thought of it, but then can't help but wonder why he'd thought of it. Some answers are more flattering than others, but there's something about him that's always seemed genuine, so I go with the flattering ones.

"To Luke," he says, holding up his own glass.

I stare at the bubbly liquid and nod. Fair enough.

"To Luke."

I take a tentative sip and am afraid I don't cover my reaction fast enough. Casey laughs at my expression.

"Princess of Tanzania, my ass!" he cries. "You've never even had good champagne before!"

I shrug with a grin and empty the glass. "A girl could get used to this," I agree. He refills my glass, then his own, before placing the bottle on a table and pulling me toward the music.

"Where are we going?" I cry.

"To dance!" he returns.

"What? No way!"

He rolls his eyes and clearly has no intention of accepting a refusal. It's my turn to laugh, and I let him lead me to the tight pack of swaying bodies.



       
         
       
        

"Hey, darling!" a gorgeous brunette purrs as we work our way through the crowd.

Casey accepts her embrace and kiss on the cheek, but I don't miss the brief shadow that washes across his face. Her arm remains tightly around his neck as they exchange more words, and I find myself getting slightly jealous. Ridiculous, since I barely even know Casey, let alone care who touches him. It's probably just my insane fear that if he abandons me for this woman, I will have no idea what to do with myself next.

The interaction doesn't last long, and the other woman eyes me with a mix of suspicion and disdain as he pulls away. She gives him another kiss, this one less polite and more determined, but he only smiles and ducks away with a very satisfying awkwardness.

"Sorry about that," he says to me when I finally get him back. "Ex-girlfriend."

"Ex? Does she know that?" I ask, and he shrugs with a smile.

"Sometimes the lines get blurred," he explains. "Ok, enough stalling. Let's dance!"

I manage to forget all about my discomfort, and even Luke, as Casey pulls me close. I know this means nothing to him, that this is yet another night in the life of a rock star, that I'm yet another decent-looking girl in a tight dress he can impress for a bit, but for me, every sound, smell, second, is like a dream I'm trying to absorb before reality dumps me back in my one-bedroom aimless existence.

Casey reminds me a lot of Luke, at least, according to the champagne, and as it works its way through my system, I start to find him extremely attractive. His hair is darker than Luke's, almost black, and his eyes hold a constant amusement that's the opposite of Luke's saturated depth. I suspect that Casey would make me laugh if I let him. Humor without the constant eggshells. Right now, that's exactly what I need, someone I can't break, and when he pulls me against him, I suddenly remember the photos I'd just seen of him as well. Apparently, not wearing clothing is a popular pose for rock stars, drummers included, even though at the time I had skimmed over Casey's images in search of Luke. Now, I wish I hadn't. I suck in my breath at the annoying thought, knowing it's not real, this sudden attraction. Casey isn't Luke, and part of me is just grateful to him for taking me under his wing and showing me a good time. But as the moment pounds on, I find it harder and harder to care what my brain thinks.

Our bodies are close now, moving together with the music, pulsating in the sensual wave of light and heat surrounding us. Couples on all sides are touching each other, lips coming together, exploring, laughing, drinking. I glance up at Casey and am startled to meet his expression, very different than what I'd expected, what it was just a moment ago. I almost feel hurt as his constant smile fades and he puts some distance between us. He gives me a quick, almost apologetic, twist of the lips. 

"I'm thirsty. Let's go get a drink," he shouts, taking my hand and leading me away from the group.

Surprised, and yes, disappointed, I nod and follow him toward the kitchen island which has been transformed into a full-service bar. Instead of more champagne, however, he asks for water, and the bartender pours a glass for each of us. Then Casey pulls out a stool for me, and drops to the one beside it.

"Whew. It's hot in here, huh?" he says, holding the glass up to his forehead. I know he's just trying to explain away the sudden retreat, but I'm not buying it.

"Is everything ok? Is it your ex-girlfriend?" I ask.

He looks confused, then laughs. "Jana? No."

"Oh, I see. So it's me. I'm just a terrible dancer."

He grins again. "Yes, that's it." Then grows serious when I refuse to let him off the hook.

"You don't want to sleep with me, Callie," he states bluntly.

I almost choke on my water. "What?"

He shrugs. "Am I wrong? Is that where you wanted that to go?"

"We can't dance without sleeping together?"

He shrugs. "You tell me. Would you have let me kiss you out there?"

I look away, starting to understand. "Probably."

"You would have. And you would have loved it," he adds with a glint that somehow makes the boast sweet instead of obnoxious. His smile fades as he shakes his head. "Anyway, this isn't your scene. I'm trying to remember that. The normal rules don't apply."

I swallow and look away. There it is. I'm filled with some strange mix of embarrassment, anger, gratitude, and admiration. I certainly hadn't expected Casey Barrett of Night Shifts Black to play the gentleman, and I don't know how to thank him without admitting he's right, I don't belong here. I certainly don't belong with him.

Then, my eyes catch a glimpse of Luke, and I forget all about the awkward moment. Casey senses my shift and follows my gaze across the room. Distracted, I miss his reaction as my stomach turns at the sight of Luke surrounded by three women, all clearly from a magazine cover. Their hands run over his body as they move in sync with the music. Even in the dim light, I can see that he's wasted. The women may be dancing, but he's just trying to stay upright. I notice they're practically supporting him, his other hand braced against the wall. One of the models pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and he laughs for a second before her mouth covers his. They all move in, shoving him into the wall. I can barely see him anymore.

Tears burn my eyes as I stare in shocked horror. I don't know what to do. He's so out of it, he can't possibly be making this choice. And yet, I know somehow he made this choice the second he decided to "have some people over." This is his world. Like he said. This is what he meant. This is what he wanted. This is today's escape from the emotional scars. My efforts aren't enough anymore.