Chapter Four
“What in the god-awful fuck was that all about?” Ghost demanded as soon as the door shut behind Starla. She immediately wiped the little smile off her face and replaced it with her usual Ghost-induced scowl. He didn’t give her a chance to reply. “Actually, I don’t even know what question to ask to get an explanation for what my eyes just saw.”
“Then don’t ask. It’s really not any of your business.”
“Star, I think my girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend is kind of my business.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you threatened? Think Macy will finally come to her senses?”
“Hey, fuck you. I’m not threatened.”
“Then drop it.”
“Last night, it was Max, and now that?”
“That is who picked my walking ass up on the side of the road and took me home after Max shoved me out of the car. He also rescued my purse for me. So quit pissing on trees to mark your territory and maybe be grateful to the guy. That is, if you give a shit at all about my well-being.”
“You don’t give a shit about your well-being, Ms. Self-Destruct. But whatever. He’s an insanely jealous asshole, just so you know.”
Starla shoved past him on her way to the front. “Just because his dick’s been in your girlfriend doesn’t make him an asshole, just so you know.”
“That’s harsh even for you.”
“You’re harsh. He did something nice for me, and I’m doing something nice for him. End of.”
“Throwing him a bone of thanks?”
“Oh my God. Fuck. Off.” They drew stares from Janelle and Tay as they emerged from the hallway into the front of the shop. Janelle met Starla’s gaze and quickly directed her attention elsewhere. She’d been doing a lot of that today. Starla leveled a glare at her until she looked up again and finally huffed, “What?”
“You’re creating a very hostile work environment,” Ghost pointed out, seeing the heated stare down between the two girls. “I’m going to complain to my supervisor.”
“You haven’t seen hostile, baby.”
“Now you’re sexually harassing me.”
She couldn’t resist laughing at that. And for the first time today, she felt a little better as the surprising sound left her, like it purged some of the bitterness from her soul. Her purse was back on her shoulder thanks to Jared, and she had absolutely no reason ever to speak to Max again. If she could only get her cell phone replaced soon, everything would be as close to normal as it could get.
And what about her offer to Jared? It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, out of her mouth practically before she realized it—a common enough problem for her, but still. She’d told him he wouldn’t regret it, but she felt that maybe for the first time in a long while, she wouldn’t regret one of her split-second decisions either.
“I was only looking out for you, you know,” Janelle said quietly. “If that’s such a problem, then I won’t bother anymore.”
“No, just… I’m sorry, okay? It was shitty of me to get mad. Can we go get drinks after work or something? On me, since I have my wallet back.” She attempted a feeble smile.
“I’m never one to turn down a free drink.” Janelle winked at her.
“Why her?” Ghost asked. “I’m the one you’ve subjected to verbal abuse and sexual harassment.”
“As if you could tear yourself from Macy for one night,” Tay muttered, getting a chuckle from the rest of them and a middle finger from Ghost.
“He’s not wrong, bitchface,” Starla pointed out, and he swung the gesture in her direction.
Twenty minutes later, three of them had clients under their needles, and the good-natured banter they were rather renowned for was in full swing. Janelle—the only one free—went to get pizza. Starla kept waiting for her relief over her returned property to crash and burn, but it never did. She had one of her favorite clients in her chair, and that girl’s problems usually made Starla’s look miniscule by comparison. She wasn’t shy about spilling them either. By the time Starla had finished working on Bianca’s shoulder piece, the aroma of hot supreme pizza wafted in from the break room, and she had scarcely eaten all day. She devoured three slices with gusto. The night was looking up. Ghost even got off her case about Jared.
She refused to entertain the notion that Jared was the reason she felt better.
His eyes were so, so blue. Damn blue.
“Maybe you can turn over a new leaf,” Janelle suggested as she and Starla sipped Malibu and pineapple juice at the bar down the street from Dermamania. It had been a slow night after their clients left, and they’d shut down a little earlier than usual. Starla had just finished filling her friend in on the events of the evening and the night before. Until now, she had never exactly admitted to Jan who’d picked her up last night. “I mean, give the good guy a shot for a change. We’ve both had our share of the bad ones.”
“I’m not really even thinking about that,” Starla said, sweeping her gaze around to the guys drinking by the pool tables. More than one of them were her exes. “I think I need to lay off men altogether. Obviously I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Who does?”
“And this one is divorced. With kids. I ask you, what the hell would I do with kids? The thought, like, terrifies me.”
Janelle laughed, playing with the back fringe of her black-and-blue pixie cut. “I wonder what happened. Why is he divorced?”
“No idea.”
“These are things you can find out Sunday.”
“It’s not really any of my business.”
“Oh, come on. Can you imagine how crazy this is going to drive Ghost? It’ll be worth it for that alone.”
“Ghost said Jared is an insanely jealous asshole. If I remember right, he’s the reason Ghost and Macy had that major fight when they first got together. I’ve had my share of insane. And jealous. And assholes.”
“I don’t think an asshole would have done what he did for you. Do you?”
“No,” Starla admitted.
“So we’ve ruled that out. The ‘insane’ and ‘jealous’ parts we’ll verify in time. Because you’ll end up sleeping with him. You can’t help yourself.”
What the hell? “Excuse me?”
“You said he has blue eyes? You’ll shag him rotten. You’re a sucker.”
Starla held up a hand, futile though it was to quell Janelle’s giggles. “If anything, that should be my warning. It’s a harbinger of doom. It’s my curse. The damn Brian Ross curse.” She let her head fall to the table with a thud. “Why can’t I get him out of my mind? It’s worse now than ever.”
“Because you haven’t met the man of your dreams yet,” Janelle said thoughtfully.
Starla lifted her head and took another drink. It wasn’t enough to dull the ache in her chest. “I have. I just can’t have him.”
“I don’t believe that. I believe there’s a guy out there somewhere who will wipe all thought of him from your head, except as a friend.”
“Impossible.”
“You don’t want to believe it. You’ve nursed this crush for so long, I think it’s the fear of letting go of it that holds you back more than anything.”
“When did you become my fucking psychologist?”
Jan scoffed. “I’ve always been your fucking psychologist, and you know it. Brian and I, it’s like our calling in life to talk you into, through, and out of everything. Not that we ever have much success.”
And she didn’t know what she’d do without them. “Thanks for that. Really. Maybe I’ll start listening. Someday.”
“You won’t, but that doesn’t mean we’ll stop trying.”
She could definitely use a shot of willpower where sex was concerned. A hot body and smoldering eyes, and she was a sucker. No use denying it. The guys standing by the pool table right now, for instance—one of them was a current booty call. God, he was fine, and a beast in the sheets. If he strolled over right now and flashed that cocky shit-eating grin of his, she’d probably be under those sheets with him tonight.
It wasn’t that she had any measure of guilt over having a healthy sex drive. She loved sex: having it, watching it, fantasizing about it, and anyone who didn’t love that about her could fuck off. But last night had been a wakeup call. She was tired. Tired of…emptiness. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure had its merits. But she felt like she had so much more than that to give someone. All these years spent directing her love where it wasn’t wanted or needed… How would it feel to have it appreciated? Even returned?
She damn sure wasn’t going to find it in that group over by the pool tables. She damn sure wasn’t going to find it with guys like Max. He was a beast under the sheets too; the two occasions she’d let him between her thighs, she’d felt like one gigantic walking bruise for days afterward. She’d climaxed around his punishing thrusts until she couldn’t think anymore. Which, she supposed, had been the point.
Seemed she was an expert in picking out the guys who were an excellent lay but either closed off emotionally or freaking insane. Hot sociopaths were her specialty. Sex was all they had to offer. Hell, was there anything more? She was beginning to wonder.