Prodigal Son(12)

Jesus. I wanted nothing more than to tell Bug to go fuck himself, but he was right. I had slept with practically everyone in the MC, and I couldn’t expect to do much better than to become the VP’s old lady. That was probably too good for me. Bug always knew how to make me feel small and shitty about myself.

“Can we just talk about this tomorrow? I’m tired, and I have homework due early tomorrow.”

“Maybe there’s nothing to talk about. I can’t have my old lady slutting all over town.”

“Bug, I wasn’t slutting around. I had a drink. That’s all, I promise.”

“Whatever. Maybe I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Maybe you should let me make it up to you, sugar.”

I knew Bug liked it when I used sex to try to get my way.

“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t.”

He hung up, and I sighed with relief that the conversation was over. I really needed to decide what to do about Bug. What I wanted to do was to finish school, get my degree, get a good job, and find a man like Luke. I knew that was practically impossible, though, given my past. No decent guy was ever going to want a washed up club whore. If that was the way everyone was going to think of me, I might as well have just fucked Luke, rather than trying to do the right thing. At least he seemed like a decent guy.

I’d been telling the truth in that ridiculously gorgeous bathroom, though. I really wasn’t sure that Luke was the kind of guy who could satisfy me. He seemed a little timid, and timid was not my type. I wanted a man who saw what he wanted and took it. I could tell that he’d wanted to kiss me in front of the window in his room, but I wasn’t about to make it easy for him. I’d wanted to see if he would take charge and go for what he wanted. He hadn’t. I had no time to spare for wishy-washy men.





Chapter 7


Luke


Sunday, May 5, 2013

I woke up, and before I even opened my eyes, I knew that I needed ibuprofen. The headache got even worse as I walked into the bathroom to get a glass of water to wash the pills down. I called room service for some coffee and breakfast, and I sat down to make a plan for the day. The first order of business was checking to see when the Rockies played. I saw that they were scheduled for a home game on Friday night, and I picked up my phone, pleased to see that I’d remembered to charge it the night before.

Good morning, gorgeous. Baseball game Friday night?

I figured that Krystal would know who the text was from. I hoped she wasn’t working Friday night, but I figured that if she was, that I was sticking around until she had a free evening. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to be.

The knock on the door startled me, and I let the room service guy inside. He set the breakfast table up for me, and I signed for the tab. I poured myself a cup of black coffee and realized that I couldn’t avoid the issue of my birth parents any longer. Sooner or later, I had to do what I’d come to town for. I rooted through my backpack and pulled the private investigator’s file out.

Sable Bellamy Hall and Daniel Hall. The file showed that they lived out east of the city in a two-story house that looked much nicer than you’d expect based on Daniel’s spotty work history. I was thinking that there was no way that a secretary could afford a house like the one in the photograph when my phone chimed to let me know a text message had arrived.

There’s nothing on my calendar for Friday.

I grinned like a little kid as I answered Krystal’s text.

It’s a date. I’ll txt you later to work out the details.

I was stoked that I had something to look forward to, and then I realized that I had nearly a whole week to wait before I could see Krystal again. I didn’t know if showing up at the Taphouse would make me look like a stalker and I thought that maybe I’d get in touch with her in a day or so to see if she’d go out to dinner with me.

But first things first. The Halls. I couldn’t bring myself to think of them as Mom and Dad, but biologically, that’s what they were. I’d always known that I was adopted, but had believed that I’d never meet the people who created me and gave me up. I was curious and apprehensive, and even a little bit angry at the people who would desert an infant. Yes, Sable and Daniel had given me up to wonderful parents — people who had supported me and loved me just as if I’d been born to them, but I couldn’t quite get over the little bit of anger that I felt at having been abandoned in the first place.

I pulled up Google Maps on my laptop and put their home address into the computer. With the relatively light Sunday morning traffic, the drive should take about twenty minutes. I thought about heading down to the fitness center to work out, but I decided that my hangover was just a little too intense. Promising myself that I’d get some exercise later that day, I headed for the shower.