THIRTY ONE

Ryder

The opening of a restaurant that I would never eat at, surrounded by people who I would never eat with, was the last place I wanted to be because it was the worst possible scenario. But Andrew was obligated to leave because he was babysitting for a prominent customer who was down to his last chance, and he conned me into accompanying him in some way so that he could fulfill his responsibility.

The lighting inside was very subdued, and there was a string of pink LEDs that ran along the length of the bar and followed the contours of the room. When people walked, the floor tiles that were directly under their heels and Italian loafers lit up in a bright yellow and lime green color respectively. I didn't particularly care for the taste of caviar, and it was as tacky as hell. I wouldn't care where I went as long as the beer was good and there weren't too many douchebags.

On the other hand, judging by the beer on tap and the state of the bartenders, this establishment fails to deliver on both counts. I placed an order with Bam Bam, a bartender who doubled as a supporting character on a reality television show, and I made sure to get the best that was available to me. I gave Andrew the worst of it as a form of twisted vengeance that gave me a sick sense of satisfaction. I put a pint glass in his hand, but he barely looked at it as he kept his attention fixed on the troubled actor he was watching.

After taking a sip, he turned his attention to me with a quizzical expression on his face. "What the hell is this crap?"

I attempted to conceal my grin as I said, "Bam Bam recommended it."

“Who?”

I indicated the direction of the bar by jerking my thumb in that direction. Andrew appeared to be frowning, but before he could say anything, his actor raised the volume of his voice.

Andrew's eyes suddenly snapped open, and he went back to absentmindedly sipping the beer with the feces flavor, as if he had completely forgotten about the flavor by this point. I couldn't help but be mildly entertained as I watched him foil his charge's numerous attempts to enter potentially dangerous territory. At one point, we were required to move into the back room, which featured low-slung tables and squat velvet armchairs as seating options. There were no barstools in this area. The atmosphere was eerily reminiscent of a nightmare thanks to the iron chandeliers that were decorated with string LED lights that pulsed and reflected off of the mirrored walls.

Over the sound of the music, I yelled out to Andrew, "It's like I'm in hell."

"Perhaps, but at least there are no stools in hell," the speaker said.

I didn't need to bother asking him to explain it further. Last month, it was common knowledge that his actor had picked up a barstool with the specific intention of hurling it over the head of one of his competitors. The jackass's failure was entirely attributable to the fact that he had failed to appreciate how effing heavy a barstool was. It was rumored that he had replaced his personal trainer with a bodybuilder the following day after dismissing him the day before.

To Andrew's annoyance, I remarked that "He's getting big." Soon enough, he'll be able to pull the entire bar up to his shoulders.

Andrew snapped, "Shut up," and then, because he couldn't help himself, he went to the bar to assess the structural integrity of its building while still holding that stale beer in his hand. "Shut up," he said.

I had to hold back my laughter as I made my way back to the first room. Even though Bam Bam was a complete moron, at least this watering hole offered something that was passable. I realized too late that I had developed tunnel vision. It worked well both in my professional life and in situations like this one, when I didn't want to make eye contact with a single fucking person for fear that they would recognize me and spend the rest of the night trying to airdrop me their headshots. It was effective both in my professional life and in this situation.

Because of this, I was almost at the bar before I realized that the blurry blonde figure in the corner of my eye wasn't some nameless and faceless stranger who would never reveal their identity to me. It was Lexie all along.

I had almost become accustomed to the messed-up mixture of unpleasant shock and lust that pounded into my solar plexus every time I unexpectedly came across her. But despite that, it continued to irritate me.

Especially after I saw what she was wearing and the shock was replaced by a more sinister form of lust than I had anticipated having. Gone were the gauzy skirts and structured blazers that provided oblique allusions to the shapely form that lay underneath. Now she was donning a black dress that grazed down her rear end, caressing her curves without clinging to them, and flared out to a truncated end just below her ass. She was wearing incongruously sensible black heels, which didn't do a damn thing to slow the rush of blood from my head to my groin, and her long, tanned legs were exposed.

She questioned Bam Bam by inquiring, "What do you recommend?"

He beamed a grin that was, in some inexplicable way, even more luminous than the LEDs.

"Pineapple Fantasy IPA," it says on the label. In point of fact, I am the brewologist who conceived of it.

I might have snorted if I hadn't been so preoccupied by Lexie's unexpected entrance into the room at that moment. In the same way that I was a fucking wizard, Bam Bam was a brewologist. It was the work of a group who, in their desperation to generate any sort of attention at all, gave him permission to associate his name with the product. Now he was trying to sell it. The constant dissemination of untruths was what kept this town in its perpetual cycle.

Lexie was saying in an earnest manner, "That's really cool," despite the fact that reluctance was puckering her forehead.

"Well, I guess I'll have to give it a shot."

After taking a step forward, I yelled, "The fuck you do." Andrew was in the fortunate position to be able to purchase a beer for twelve dollars that tasted exactly like it had been strained through the waste basin of a pollution plant. Lexie couldn't.

While I was looking over the other titles, I made a comment along the lines of, "If you like IPAs, the Lunar Eclipse is the only decent one."

Bam Bam made a feeble attempt to scowl at me, but about halfway through, he realized who I was. Despite my best efforts to maintain a low profile, I still had to deal with this issue on occasion. His mouth went completely still, revealing an expression of bewildered disgust. I could almost see the thoughts going back and forth between the cells in his small brain.

This guy is a complete jackass. Ryder Williams is the name of this jackass.

"Ryder," Lexie gasped. "Why are you even in this place?"

What an excellent question. I continued to look ahead without diverting my attention. When I looked at her, I knew those cornflower blue eyes would be wide open, and her pink lips would be parted in surprise. I knew this because I had seen it happen before. On top of that, I didn't want to see how low the neckline of her dress dipped because I didn't want to be embarrassed.

I told Bam Bam that there would be two lunar eclipses.

I felt the pressure of Lexie's wide-eyed gaze on me even more intensely as he turned around to pull them when he was pulling them. I did so with reluctance but eventually looked back at her.

"Why are you even in this place?" I inquired, giving her question back to her without an answer.

"Victoria asked me to come." I recognized the woman with the dark hair from Brand, and Lexie nodded to her.

Development. Therefore, she was attempting to make friends. That was good, but I didn't particularly care for the appearance of this one. She possessed that lethal combination of ruthlessness and hunger that I'd seen propel people both to the top of the world and into an abyss in their pursuit of power and wealth. Their dogged persistence defied the laws of physics and gravity, and if you got too close, there was no telling whether they would drag you up with them or step on you to get where they needed to go.

I wasn't aware that I was staring at Victoria with my eyes slightly narrowed until I felt Lexie's hand on my arm. At that point, I realized that I was staring at Victoria. Again, this mixture of astonishment and sexual desire. However, it wasn't as unpleasant this time around.

Despite this, I rolled my shoulders back, which released the light pressure that she was applying with her fingers.

"I asked you what it was that you were doing here," It was repeated by Lexie.

Bam Bam brought our pint glasses over to the table for us to use. I ignored Lexie's polite insistence that she would pay for her own beverage and instead paid for both of ours.

When Bam Bam saw how much of a tip I'd left for him, his normally smooth affectation began to crack, and he said, "Thanks, man." His unmasked syllables had an undertone that reminded me of the Midwest.

I was the one who stated that there was a catch. "If he's the same guy—"

"—orders another drink from you, tell him you only have Pineapple Fantasy left, okay?" I pointed across the bar to where he could see Andrew standing at the edge of the interior room.

Bam Bam responded awkwardly, "Uh, sure," but by that time I had already started walking away.

When Lexie came after me, it didn't come as a surprise to me. I realized that I'd never responded to her question after all. However, if she hadn't done that, things would have been much simpler. Not better. But fucking easier.

When we finally reached Andrew, I took the opportunity to introduce them.

"Hi Lexie," he said, still preoccupied by his problem actor, who was leaning so close to another actor that they were either about to start kissing or swinging. "I'm sorry about that," he said, still preoccupied by his problem actor. "I've been hearing a lot about you," you said.

She was taken aback and asked, "You have?" She gave me her attention.

I maintained my composure and said, "I told him that you were Samantha's friend and that you were here for a job." "I'm not sure what Andrew considers to be a lot of things," I said.

Andrew responded, "Not from him," as he turned his full attention to us at last. "Not from him." There was a trace of a smirk playing around the edges of his mouth. "You've run into one of our other good friends here."

Of course we're going to fuck Lyndon. He had an intuitive understanding of how I felt about Lexie.

"Lyndon seemed to have quite a few things to say about me? I don't understand," Lexie said, appearing completely perplexed. "We barely spoke for more than a minute."

"He mentioned that you left an impression on him."

Andrew's expression could have appeared to be one of sincerity to anyone else. I couldn't help but notice the smirk that played across his face. He was going to get his revenge on me for forcing him to drink twelve ounces of monkey spit, and then he was going to tell Lyndon about it and have a good laugh about it. I could feel a tightening in the tendons in my shoulders. It's possible that his customer wouldn't be the only one to be hurling barstools later on tonight.

I attempted to keep my tone neutral as I approached Andrew with the statement, "I need to talk to you for a second." Once more, Lexie's eyes widened in surprise. Even Andrew appeared to be taken aback. He turned around and looked at his actor, who, at least for the time being, appeared to be reasonably compliant.

"It'll only take a second," I said, baring my teeth in a friendly-sounding smile that I hoped Lexie would take as an indication of my friendliness. "This has to do with something at work."

Andrew replied, "Sure," revealing that he was not fooled. "Lexie, do you see that guy sitting over there on the leather settee who's wearing an orange shirt?"

She nodded.

"I need you to get my attention as soon as possible if he makes any attempt to pick up that settee or any other piece of furniture in this room, okay?"

Lexie appeared concerned about something.

I echoed that it wouldn't take more than a second each time. I then dropped my act of being a nice guy and led Andrew to a corner a few feet away from where we were standing. The tone of my voice was low and menacing as I issued the command, "Don't say another fucking word to Lexie."

Andrew gave a raised eyebrow in response. “Ever? If you ask me, the rest of the evening is going to be pretty effing awkward as a result of that.

"I'm sure you understand what I mean."

I looked over his shoulder and saw Lexie looking in our direction. She appeared to be mouthing something, but I was unable to make out what it was.

I went on by saying, "I don't know what Lyndon told you, but it's not fucking true." I don't know what Lyndon told you.

"You don't want to—"

I stopped Andrew by giving him a hard look. Then, as someone came up to her from behind him, I saw Lexie smile automatically.

"What I want doesn't matter. She's a friend of Samantha's."

"But you do," she said. Andrew had to force down the last few sips of his beverage, which caused him some discomfort.

Andrew finally finished his drink, and as he took the last bit down, he winced.

Before I could bite off his head, I saw a blur of orange in the corner of my eye. Andrew's ex-girlfriend was leaning on Lexie like he had a broken leg and she was his crutches. She seemed confused about how he got his arm around her. But in true small-town girl fashion, she was still trying to smile. By now, Samantha would have knocked the guy out and smashed her heel into his foot.

"Andrew," I said with a growl in my voice.

He threw up his hands and said, "Then keep telling yourself that." "See if I give a fuck."

"Andrew," I said over and over as I walked around him. I wanted to tell him to take control of his client, but my body didn't want to wait. My hands tightened into fists, and the tension ran up the length of my arms and into my shoulders. As I moved toward Lexie and the jerk whose forehead was on her temple, I felt like I was on springs. He was whispering, and she was making a funny face. Most likely because of how his breath smelled, but maybe also because of what he said.

The idea that he was talking to her like she was one of those sad, clingy groupie girls who followed anyone who was even a little bit famous made me so angry that I went from a level 7 to a level 10 so quickly that I didn't have time to process the change. I just made contact. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tight. My fingers dug into him like a bear trap. My other arm seemed to have moved back on its own.

“Ryder!” Lexie let out a gasp when I pulled the jerk away and put myself between them.

“Ryder!” Andrew yelled with her when he finally figured out what was going on. Before I could do anything else, they both grabbed me. He had me by the elbow, and she held the tight arm that was still holding on to the other man. I could see her worried face on one side and Andrew's on the other, but I could only see one thing at a time. I could only see the jerk right in front of me. His eyes were tired, and he was smiling in a silly way.

He kept saying, "No harm done, no harm done," while trying to put both palms up in the air. "I had no idea she belonged to you."

Lexie, who was offended, tried to tell him that women are not property, but I didn't want to add to the confusion. This kind of guy needed things to be clear-cut.

I said, "Well, she fucking is." "And if you touch her again, I'll mess up your face so much that you'll have to get new headshots."

"And you can't really pay for them now,"

Andrew said in a low voice. "So, man, come on. Let's get you home, all right?"

As Andrew led him away, the man kept saying, "No harm done." "I had no idea. No harm done."

I watched him walk away, half hoping he'd try to get away so I could hit him and get rid of the stress that was making my body stiff. So I wouldn't have to look back at Lexie, whose eyes were a blue beam in the corner of my vision. When Andrew and his actor got lost in the crowd, I had no choice but to follow them.

Like I thought, her eyes were full of confusion, and she was asking a question with her mouth.

I said in a rough tone, "I'm taking you home." I finished my beer in one gulp and slammed the pint glass on the table. If Andrew and Lexie hadn't stopped me, I would have thrown it in his face. Half of me couldn't believe I'd let myself get that out of hand. Part of me still wasn't sure if I'd gotten it back.

Lexie raised one of her golden brows and said,

"I was telling the other guy that women aren't things. "I'll go home whenever I want to." She began to walk away.

I grabbed her arm and turned her around, being careful not to hold too tight. She could get away from him if she wanted to. But she came on her own, even though her eyes were now blue with fire.

"Lexie, I'm leaving because I don't want to spend another second with jerks like the one I just pulled off you. And you're coming with me because there's no way in hell I'm leaving you here alone."

When I turned her around, I accidentally pulled her close to me and pressed her against my chest. Because I could feel her chest going up and down in quick, shaky bursts, it led me to believe that she was experiencing some kind of intense emotion. Or cheerful. When her eyes went to the space in the hollow of my throat, I had the sensation that I was being suffocated by the pressure. It is best for her to leave. I couldn't keep her. Even if it meant that she wouldn't leave and I had to stay in this fucking bar the whole night to make sure that nobody else was bothering her, I would do it. I tried my best to keep a firm grasp on her, but it was impossible.

When she finally looked up at me, her head was tilted back, but the pressure that had been building up in my chest remained. She spoke softly but clearly, indicating that she did not want to be heard: "I don't want you to leave me here alone."

I pretended that I didn't comprehend what she was saying, but it was clear that I did. I don't care if it was the beer, the adrenaline, or the dress she was wearing, but I just couldn't keep lying to myself, much less to her.

I couldn't let her get away from me.