Love Resolution

JR led the way through the densely packed pub, the twenty something crowd congregating around bistro height tables and lining the long oak bar. In front of her, Sam held tightly onto Avery’s hand. Hood up and head down, Avery let her lead. Between the crowd noise and the TV’s blaring, conversation wasn’t an option.

“The club’s down here,” JR informed them when they reached a dark concrete staircase at the back of the bar.

The basement was dimly lit. People were queued up, velvet rope on one side, unpainted cinderblock on the other, faces glowing from cell displays as they languished. JR bypassed them, heading directly to the front of the line. He stopped before a burly man in a blue blazer. Between his close cropped hair and his clipboard, he appeared to be the man in charge. Lifting his sunglasses to the top of his head, JR made eye contact with him. “Daniels, party of four,” he said firmly.

Buzz Cut checked the list and made a mark on it. He took three armbands out of a legal sized envelope and clipped them on Avery, JR and Sam. His gaze narrowed when Ray stepped forward. He looked at Avery. “This is a very exclusive club, if you get what I mean.”

“No, I don’t get what you mean,” Avery countered defensively. “Tell me this isn’t a racial thing.”

“Of course not.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Avery asked.

“This is a high tone place.” Buzz Cut leaned in, lowering his voice. “The hired help generally wait in the car.”

Avery’s brows drew down. “That’s ridiculous. He’s with us. I’m sure your manager would be interested in your turning away Brutal Strength’s lead guitarist because her friend didn’t meet your personal requirements for admission into the club.”

Buzz man looked around nervously and looked back down at his clipboard. “You’re right. My mistake. We have plenty of room.” He offered Ray a band, swung around, slid a key card through a slot, and pushed open the door so they could enter. “Welcome to Club Classic.”

“Sorry about that, Ray,” Avery told him as he fell into step beside her. “I can’t believe there are still small minded people like that around.”

“Forget it Avery. What matters most to me is that from day one none of that has been a factor in how you see me.”

“Still.” Her jaw clenched. “It’s just not right.” She spun around, determined to go back and have a few more words with the moron.

“Leave it.” Ray moved to block her path. “He’s not worth the breath or the energy.”

Her lips pursed, but she gave him a tight nod before turning back to locate JR and Sam. As she moved deeper into the club the volume of music greatly increased. The heavy bass beat from the Guess Who’s “American Woman” pounded into her chest and pulsating ceiling lights flashed, illuminating her path through the darkened interior of the club. She noticed concert posters of classic rock bands lining the walls on both sides of the room and flat low leather couches and oval Plexiglas coffee tables delineating intimate seating areas.

Avery smiled. It was her kind of place. Spotting Sam and JR near the small bar in the back she threaded her way through the crowd to them. When she reached Sam’s side, she shouted to be heard over the music “This is cool. Thanks for inviting me.”

Sam smiled back.

She was staring at the dancers on the chest high elevated ramp in the center of the room when the waitress walked up.

“I’m Jamie,” said the attractive woman with straight brown hair dressed in skin tight black leather pants and a Club Classic t-shirt. “Boss says drinks are on the house for you guys.” She took their order and soon returned with a silver bucket full of iced beers for JR and Sam and club soda for Avery. Avery took off her hoodie as Led Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” started playing and moved her body in time to the music.

“Let’s dance,” Sam insisted, lifting JR’s and Avery’s hands in the air.

“You guys go ahead,” JR shouted, pulling his hand free. “I’ll watch.” He wiggled his tawny brows while he sprawled out on the sofa, arms outstretched as if he owned the place.

Sam giggled, grey eyes twinkling in the club’s lights.

For a while, Avery was tense and glanced around the room nervously, but as time passed and no one seemed to take notice of them she let herself relax. So much had come at her recently that she just wanted to forget about it all for a while, let loose, and have a good time.

Dancing with Sam was fun. As they laughed and shimmied with abandon, Avery slowly but successfully relegated her concerns to the back of her mind. After an hour, she began to suspect Sam of being more than a tad tipsy. At the end of each song the cute intern turned tour manager would drop down onto JR’s lap, wrap her arm around his neck, and plant a kiss on his lips. The kisses were getting embarrassingly longer and sloppier each time, not that JR seemed to mind.

“You guys need to stop or get a room,” Avery chastised, tugging lightly on one of Sam’s curls.

Sam shook her head and giggled.

When Aerosmith’s “Walk this Way” came on, Avery played along with Sam, both stretching out their arms pretending to be Frankenstein’s monsters.

JR mouthed, “Kids,” and rolled his eyes at them.

They were bumping their hips together toward the middle of the next song, when Avery noticed Bryan and War walk in. Both stopped near the entrance. Dressed as they were, they garnered their fair share of attention from the women in the club.

Aviator sunglasses covered War’s eyes, a dark bandana tied back his hair, and he wore a military inspired jacket open with no shirt and leather pants. Bryan appeared to have just rolled out of bed, which with him was a distinct possibility. His faux hawk was flattened down on one side, and his sleeveless shirt was only half tucked in.

Bryan scanned the room. When his eyes met hers, his lips tipped up into that sexy half smile of his. He lifted his hand to his forehead in a mocking salute, the silver and leather bracelets he wore sliding midway down his arm.

Avery spun back around. She knew that he knew damn well that she liked what she saw. Heck, she was pretty sure it wasn’t a stretch to say Bryan was well aware that he had that effect on most women. He was a player and apparently he’d decided she was his next play. Why else would he be here?

Suddenly, a warm hand dropped on her shoulder just as Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” started playing.

“Hey, Red,” Bryan spoke low and near her ear.

She gulped and turned to face him. “Hey,” she offered in return.

Up close in the low seductive lighting of the club, Bryan Jackson was a bit intimidating and very, very male. His jeans hung low and clung to his lean hips while his sleeveless shirt was definitely a calculated choice to show off arms that were tantalizingly corded with muscle as well as covered with ink.

“What happened to your female entourage?” she asked with an arched brow.

“I got bored. They’re all the same.” He traced a finger around her silver cuff bracelet. “Only one woman I’m really interested in right now.”

“Oh, please.” The guy was a flirt, but she could totally see what all the fuss was about. She wet her dry lips. “Does that line usually work for you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never used it before.” He stared at her mouth. “Is it working? Maybe I need further research to be sure.”

“You do know that I’m engaged?” Bryan was really pushing the envelope with her. He had to know she was taken.

“Yeah, I heard something about that. It’s just a ring, though.” His gaze ran the length of her. “Don’t see a ball and chain around your ankle yet. In fact he’s not even here with you, is he?” He took a step back, holding out his hand. “Come on. Dance with me, Red.”

She stared at it for a moment. The refusal she should have spoken was stifled by the night’s deluge of hurt and uncertainty. Marcus’ drinking worried her most of all. Why had he done it when he knew how much it would upset her?

She took a step toward Bryan as John Paul Jones’ bass rattled her. After all what would be the harm? It was only a dance. It wasn’t like she was sleeping with the guy.

“Closer.” His eyes intense, Bryan stretched out his hands, palms up, crooking his fingers at her.

She moved in. When her body was inches from his, he leaned in, his gaze lingering lustfully on her breasts. Instinctively, she arched backward beneath him. They weren’t even touching, but it felt as if they were. They were certainly close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Her heart began pounding erratically in her chest.

Then Bryan leaned back, his eyes watchful and she knew it was her turn to take the dominant position in the dance. Back and forth they repeated the pattern. Sharing an innate sense of rhythm, hips and shoulders swayed in sync with the music. Sparks of attraction flowed seamlessly between them. Their movements became more and more suggestive as the dance continued. Soon she felt the eyes of everyone in the club watching. She began to feel like a complicit partner in a dangerous game.

When the song segued into Robert Plant’s vocal climax, Bryan changed position, moving behind Avery. She felt the warmth of his body shift to her back as he pressed against her, his shortened breath stirring the hair near her ear. He placed his hands on her hips and she froze when she felt his fingers flex.

Enough! Her brain screamed at her. This was all wrong and she had let it go on for far too long. She reached back to remove his hands when she suddenly had a horrible feeling. Dazed and confused, she glanced up, her stomach instantaneously dropping to her feet.

Marcus.

Legs braced apart, eyes blazing, Marcus stared at her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. He held her captive with his scorching gaze.

Over her shoulder, she heard Bryan’s voice slice through the charged atmosphere. “Hey, we were just dancing, lighten up, Chief.”

Marcus’ murderous gaze cut to him. His hands opened and closed as cell phone cameras flashed all around.

The Zeppelin tune faded out and “Tusk” started, but Avery wasn’t listening to the music anymore. She was drowning in the look of betrayal Marcus directed her way.

She stepped forward and put her hand on Marcus’ arm.

He glanced down at it for a moment, and she could feel the pent up anger in him. A startled cry left her lips as he jerked his arm back. She watched helplessly as he spun around and stormed out of the club, people diving right and left in their hurry to get out of his way. She didn’t blame him. She’d seen him angry before but never like this.

“Red.” Bryan’s warm hands squeezed her shoulders.

“Don’t.” She stepped out of his reach and whirled around to face him, the tightness in her throat making it difficult to speak. “I shouldn’t have danced with you.”

His expression was hard to read. Surely it was only mild disappointment she saw, maybe even irritation that they’d been interrupted. It wasn’t likely that he really cared. They barely knew each other. She didn’t really know what to make of him. She did know that tonight had been a huge mistake. Her mistake. “I think it would be better if you stay away from me.”

She sprinted out of the club, the tears balanced on the edges of her auburn lashes now falling unhindered down her pale cheeks as she hurried to try to catch up to Marcus.