“I will.”
I hugged her again, got a shoulder squeeze from my father, then made my escape out of the penthouse with a grinning Josh by my side.
“Nothing like parents to make a man feel like a teenager again, huh?” he asked, jamming his hands into his pockets.
I punched the down button, wishing I could punch away the sense of guilt so easily. “Amen.”
***
An hour later, I was more comfortable in jeans and button up shirt but was regretting my decision to go out with Josh as the bass from the loud music pounded in my chest.
Turning to look down at the dance floor a few feet below the VIP section, I took another glass from Josh’s hand and clicked the heavy-cut crystal against his in a silent toast.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me it was an erotica club,” I said, raising my brow at the mostly naked women dancing all around us. The Gilded Cage was aptly named, I realized, as I watched a woman wearing only a thin G-string hump the golden bars of her cage.
“You didn’t ask.” Josh lifted his drink, the smirk still in place. “I was lucky to score opening night tickets, so ungird your loins and have some fun.”
“Welcome to The Gilded Cage, gentlemen,” an expensively dressed man said from my right. “I hope you’re having a pleasant evening. I’m Christopher Banning, the owner, at your service.”
I nodded and stuck out a hand. “Langston Kimbrough. Nice place. I’m impressed.”
Mr. Banning gave me an overly formal bow. “Were you given the tour upon your arrival?” he asked, looking between me and Josh, who introduced himself.
“We were, and your club is above expectation.”
The older man didn’t bother to hide his pride as he turned to face the throng of writhing bodies around us. I did the same, sweeping my gaze across the mass of people, searching faces. Searching for… something. I wasn’t sure what.
“Performances will begin shortly,” he said with a nod toward the stage where a half dozen dancers currently humped each other. “There are several talented artists scheduled for tonight, in fact. The first is very entertaining, I’ve seen them several times now.”
I shot a look at Josh, who only grinned and drained his glass as the owner stepped away. Two women, a blonde and a brunette, approached our table, both gorgeous as sin, both ready for sex. I could practically smell it on them, it was so obvious.
“Ready to party?” the blonde asked, leaning over to give me a fuller view of her ample cleavage. The straps of the dress looked incapable of holding her heavy breasts up, and I wondered if having them malfunction was part of some secret strategy on her part. “I’m Monica, and this is my friend, Rachel.”
I narrowed my eyes, wondering if this was part of their game. “I’m Ross and this is Joey,” I teased, thinking the girls might be fun and more interesting after all.
Without missing a beat, Josh stuck out his hand, “How you doin’?”
The blonde fluttered her eyelashes and stepped closer to him, her hand sliding against his palm. “I’m doing great, Joey.”
I stared at her, incredulous. She didn’t get it? How in fuck’s sake didn’t she get it? I rolled my eyes and glanced at the brunette, who clearly hadn’t gotten it either. She winked at me. “Want to buy me a drink?”
Already sick of the place, I shook my head but handed her my nearly full one. “I’m out of here,” I said to Josh, who looked appalled.
“You’re kidding me.”
I wasn’t kidding in the least. “You stay. Have fun. Not my thing tonight.”
I could tell he wanted to fight me, convince me to stay, but then both women hooked a hand through his arms, their enormous breasts pressing against him. He lifted a brow, the smirk returning. “You sure? I’m happy to share.”
I tossed some bills down on the table. “Yeah, I’m sure. Have fun.” He broke away from the girls, and the man hug we gave each other was as natural as breathing.
“Be careful, old man,” he said, even though he was officially fifty-two days older than me. But he was right, I was acting like the elderly at the moment. And I didn’t care. I just wanted out of here. Out of this city. This country. I needed to be somewhere I could breathe.
I nodded to the girls, who were already wrapping themselves back around my friend. “You be careful too.” He winked, and I shook my head at the cheesy ass grin on his face, knowing it would be the last time I saw it for a while.
Escaping the club wasn’t an easy feat as I navigated the crowd, and it felt good to inhale a lungful of New York’s questionably fresh air. It was still hot and sticky, and I considered calling a cab but decided to walk the blocks back to the hotel. Walk off the energy that seemed to be vibrating through me.
I’d gone several blocks by the time the tension inside me began to release. I shook out my shoulders, releasing it even further. When I was only a couple blocks to my hotel, I heard jazz music pouring from a bar. Good jazz, and it caught my attention. Glancing at my watch, I couldn’t believe it was only a little after ten in the evening. What the hell, maybe this old man could stay out a little longer after all.
Inside, the pub was exactly as I’d imagined it. Long, glistening bar top spanned the length of the dimly lit room while a couple dozen tables dotted a dance floor flanked by a five-piece band that was bringing a Benny Goodman classic to life.
The place was three-quarters full, lively enough to lift your spirits without feeling crushed by the body heat of the place. I found a prime spot at the end of the bar and seated myself on the bolted down stool, glad no one was seated on the side of me, giving me room to stretch out my six-four frame.
The old barkeep grinned and whipped a towel over his shoulder. “What’re you having tonight?”
I checked the tap, happy with the unusual selections. “I’ll try the Mosaic Dream.”
His grin grew wider. “Fine choice, my friend.”
I watched him expertly pour the dark orange liquid, ending with a perfect one-inch head. I thanked him and opened a tab, sliding my AmEx Black across the gleaming wood. I liked it here. The gnawing sensation that had been sinking its teeth into me loosened and began to disappear. This was a place I fit in.
A group of women at one of the tables began to yell. A tall blonde with a short crop of hair stood up, waving at someone near the door.
And I saw her.
She was dressed casually. Ripped jeans and a white loose-fitting, buttoned up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. I smiled. We were dressed nearly identically, down to the brown shoes, hers some type of pointy flats to my loafers.