Chapter 5
The sound of balls hitting balls—or occasionally, wood—filled the otherwise dull room. A ways from where they were, music boomed loudly, making even the walls and floors of the VIP section of the club pulsate with each beat, regardless of the stark contrasting quietude settling in the room.
The room was dark, save for the dim illumination from the pendant lights hanging from the ceiling of the bar and the faux LED flames licking up the walls of the room, casting the space in an intimate orange glow. Music rocked the rest of the club, swarming the building with liveliness, however, only occasional pong noises emanated from the pool table in the VIP room, filling the otherwise light silence.
Gabriel sat, hunched over the bar counter, his hands holding the sides of his head, fingers lost in a forest of dark unruly strands, as he stared unblinkingly at his drink. Minutes idled by with absolutely no movement from Gabriel (not even the blink of an eye) but when the ice cubes in his amber colored drink clinked against each other, he lunged forward without preamble, grabbed the glass and downed it all in one loud gulp.
Exhaling a groan laced with exasperation and frustration, Gabriel shifted his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands before dragging his hands down his face.
“Fuck. My. Life.” He cursed with another groan over the sound of an object ball making its way down a pocket.
“You've been cursing and groaning all night, Jack Sparrow. Ready to spill the beans on what's bothering you yet?” Colin, one of Gabriel's two best friends, spoke, tapping the cue lightly against his palm as he surveyed the billiard table.
“Yeah, man.” James, his second best friend, piped up. “We've been here for about two hours now and the only words—”
“—more like sounds—” Colin pitched in quickly.
“—you've uttered are curses, grunts and groans.” James concluded.
Gabriel raked his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time tonight, once again downing the drink in his refilled glass. “It's nothing,” he muttered, his voice gruff as though he hadn't spoken for days.
“Nothing?” His friends chorused over the sound of the cue ball hitting one of the object balls.
“Yet you told us to meet you at the club.” James began.
“And you booked the entire VIP room. Sure sounds like nothing.” Colin concluded, his attention still riveted to the game before him.
“I simply wanted some peace and quiet.” Even to his own ears, Gabriel knew he sounded foolish. In tandem, Colin snickered in amusement and James hummed disbelievingly.
“Something you couldn't have gotten in the comforts of your own home, I presume.” Colin taunted.
Gabriel exhaled a loud groan before face-planting against the bar counter, the quartzite surface cool against his forehead, momentarily chilling the heat caused by the turmoil raging his mind. He couldn't help but regret calling his friends to join him; they were the very opposite of peace and quiet—especially Colin—however, he couldn't refute the fact that he needed someone to talk to. He needed to let out the recent development (or total opposite of that) in his life.
“You can't hide anything from us, dude.” Colin spoke again, getting into position to shoot a ball. “You're gonna crack eventually and it's better sooner than later.”
Colin was right, Gabriel hated to admit it but he was.
Therefore, defeatedly, Gabriel straightened in his seat, wrapping his fingers around the glass of his again, refilled drink, hoping to absorb some of the coolness from the perspiration running down its body as he ground out the words, “I found Jos.”
Almost immediately, the room went quiet—in fact, the entire club went silent, faded completely away as Gabriel's words echoed in his own ears.
Although he'd spent almost the whole day in Joslyn's presence, inhaling her perfume, feeling her body heat when they mistakenly brushed against one another, hearing her laughter tickle his ears and listening to her voice whilst picking up the slight husky undertone he now recalled her having that night two years ago, it all only felt real now that he'd said it out loud.
He'd found her, the woman he'd craved for two years... and she turned out to be his girlfriend's best friend.
What a sick fate.
Just as everything had faded away, it all drifted back into focus again and Gabriel realized that the room had never gone quiet nor had the activities of the club halted nor had the Earth stopped revolving. He'd simply zoned out.
“Well? Any minute now,” Colin sang and Gabriel realized that they hadn't heard him. He sighed and tried again, much louder this time.
“I said, I found Jos.”
“Jos?” James echoed. “Who or what is Jos?”
“As in Jos, the state in Nigeria?” Gabriel turned to glare at Colin, who couldn't resist teasing him.
“No, as in Jos, the woman I asked you guys to help me find back then.”
“Oh,” James and Colin echoed.
“You mean the Jos whose pussy has you whipped so bad.” Colin chuckled, feeling his friend's heated glare bore into the side of his face. Still not looking up from the billiard table, he tapped the cue lightly against his temple in a mock salute. “I only speak the truth.”
“Well, I fucking found her,” Gabriel grumbled and tossed back his umpteenth drink for the night.
“And is that a problem?” James asked, shifting his gaze from the table to his friend's slumped posture at the bar.
“You tell me,” Gabriel chuckled drily, proceeding to drop the bomb on his friends. “She's Sigourney's best friend.” He announced just as Colin hit a ball, making it roll into a pocket.
This time, the room did go silent and Colin, whose gaze had been fixed solely on their game, finally raised his head (still in a shooting position) to regard Gabriel. Even James stood statuesquely still, eyes wide.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Colin said after long moments of silence. He straightened and he and James dumped their rods then together, made their way towards the bar, finally seeing how serious their friend's situation was.
They sat, flanking his brooding frame as they each ordered their own drinks before settling into a comfortable yet slightly tense silence while nursing their drinks. Occasionally, Colin and James exchanged glances over their friend's hunched figure, shooting each other questioning looks before Gabriel finally groaned loudly, aware of their shenanigans.
“Spit it out, fuckers.”
James was the first to speak. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Gabriel took a moment to sit up, straightening his posture. “I need to get her off my damn mind.”
“And you intend to accomplish that by?” Colin spoke up this time, his lips around the rim of his glass.
Tossing back yet another drink, Gabriel gruffed out, “Fucking her out of it one last time, of course.”
Once again, James and Colin exchanged a look, their eyebrows raised, before simultaneously returning their gaze to their friend.
“And what makes you think that'll work?” Colin asked, to which Gabriel arched a single questioning brow.
James elaborated. “You had sex with her just once before, yes? Yet she's already so deeply buried under your skin. What makes you think doing it the second time won't make it worse?”
Colin hummed in agreement. “He's merely pussy whipped for now, perhaps this time, he'll be obsessed.” He sipped his drink, gargling a chuckle at Gabriel's death glare.
“That's most unlikely to happen,” he replied.
“Y'all never learn, do you?” James tut-tutted, shaking his head. “Do you think the person who came up with this ‘bed a girl to get her off your mind’ mentality actually succeeded in achieving that? Ever thought that he, instead, ended up falling in love with said girl and marrying her because fucking her the first time or in your case—one last time—had him only falling deeper into a self-dug pit.”
Gabriel blinked once. Twice. Staring at James before looking at Colin who shrugged with raised eyebrows, also surprised by their friend's word-vomit.
“Again,” Gabriel began, his voice firm. “That can't happen to me.”
“Oh, I admire your confidence, oh pussy whipped master. What is your source, pray tell?” Colin teased in a faux British accent.
“I have Sigourney, my girlfriend.”
“Ah–hah! Which brings us to our final point. Do you intend to cheat on your girlfriend? That too, with her best friend?” At James' question, Gabriel, who had been lifting his glass to his lips, froze before lowering his drink back to the counter as a grimace dominated his countenance.
“Fuck!” he cried, sifting his hands through his hair roughly.
“Our thoughts exactly,” Colin mused, turning serious on seeing his friend's troubled expression. “Maybe you two should talk it out?”
With his forehead resting on the cool countertop, Gabriel considered Colin's advice but the thought that remained at the forefront of his mind was;
How could he hold a conversation with her when all he pictured when he saw her was her naked body?
