Infinite Desire(8)

By: Danielle Jamie

I figured with Savannah coming back home that things were all good now. But then, shit! What do I find on my cell phone this afternoon, but a picture of Savannah lying on a bar letting some guy do belly shots off of her. I couldn’t see his face because it was dark in the club…my club of all places, but a source confirmed that it was none other than Shayne Andrews. Shayne-Fuckin-Andrews! The guy I’m throwing a party for here in Vegas to celebrate his highly anticipated fight next weekend.

“Hey man, what are you drinking?” Dixon asks as the bottle girl approaches our table, snapping me out of my dark thoughts.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I drag my gaze from the crowd on the dance floor and reply, “Just bring me a bottle of Jack.”

I’m not in the mood for partying and feel horrible. This is Braxton’s last hurrah before he and Mya make it official and tie the knot. I still can’t believe they’re finally getting married. It took him fuckin’ long enough to finally get the balls to ask her. They’ve been together since high school.

“So, ya enjoying your last trip to Vegas as a bachelor so far?” I ask Braxton trying to distract myself from my wondering mind. If I keep thinking about Shayne being all over my fuckin’ fiancée, I won’t be able to stop myself from walking over to his table and beatin’ the livin’ shit outta him.

Letting out a loud chuckle Braxton slides his hands behind his head and leans back in the booth as he smiles across the table at me. “Hell yeah, but it won’t be complete until I drag your asses to the casino for some poker and take y’all for all ya got.”

“Ha. You wish Bro. Y’all know no one’s better at Texas hold’em than yours truly. So ya best be prepared to lose.” Dixon says, finally taking his eyes off his cell phone. He’s been texting non-stop for the last twenty minutes.

“First of all, I taught you how to play poker douchebag, and secondly, this is a guy’s weekend. So put the damn phone away and drink!” I shout lifting my glass into the air. The sound of ice clinking off of the glass can barely be heard over the loud, thumping techno music.

After a few minutes of back and forth bantering with Dixon and Braxton, they finally shifted their bullshit talking to the fight next weekend. I’m glad they’ve not said anything about the story spreading like wild fire about Savannah. I think they know as well as I do, if I get worked up, it’ll be me next all over the gossip sites and celebrity news shows.

Between the beers I had at dinner and the two glasses of Jack and Coke I’ve had since we got to Vertigo, I’m feelin’ pretty buzzed. Turning, I wave over a bottle girl and ask her to bring us another bottle of Jack. Getting totally shit faced tonight is on my agenda.

Reaching for the bottle, I proceed to pour myself another drink. I feel someone sit beside me and immediately my nose is attacked by an overly sweet perfume. Smells like someone rolled around in a candy shop before coming to the club.

I instantly freeze when I hear the all too familiar voice of Trixie LaRue. She’s a well-known socialite who lives in Vegas, and has been known to jump on a stripper pole on occasion. Trixie’s father is a big name movie producer in Hollywood who has a shelf full of awards. Her life consists of partying and living off daddy’s money.

“Kayden Knox! I thought that was you. It’s been like, what? Six months since I last saw you. It’s about time you came back to Vegas!” She says overly enthusiastic into my ear as she presses her double D boobs against my arm. She flashes a flirtatious smile at Braxton and Dixon, who look none too happy about Trixie crashing our guy’s night. This is the last fuckin’ thing I need. How much more shit can be piled on my head?!

Shifting my body, I maneuver away from her, but she’s like a fuckin’ puppy begging for attention. She is immediately scooting closer to me. Rolling my eyes, I tip my head back, tossing back the entire glass. I just found another reason to get totally fucked up. I can’t believe I ever fucked this chick. Now that I’ve been with Savannah, I see how shallow I was bedding anything with big tits, and a perky personality. Fuckin’ moron…that’s what I was.

Dixon jokes, trying to get a rise out of her. “Hey Trixie, what are you doing at a UFC party? Looking for your new conquest?”

Snapping her head from me to Dixon, she lets out an annoyed grunt, “I was invited by Shayne. It’s a pretty kick ass party…I can’t believe all the people who’ve showed up. This party’s going to be all over the magazines come tomorrow. The paparazzi are lined up outside, just dying to get some pics of drunk celebrities stumbling out of the hotel.”

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