Haisley

“Quit scrutinizing my every move. You’re always on my back.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes—you are.”

What’s wrong with a woman going out and having a good time? Let me answer that question for you—absolutely nothing. So why does it always feel wrong when I tell my mother that I’m going to the bar with friends? I mean, it’s not like I’m a teenager anymore. I don’t need her approval, but I can still feel her judgement and steely blue eyes through the damn phone. I think she tries to give me a headache on purpose just to mess up my carefully made plans.

“Seriously Haisley? When are you ever going to settle down?”

“Mom.”

“Your sister just found a lovely young man. He adores her tremendously. I can tell by the way he looks at her. I just know there’s wedding bells for those two.”

“I’m not Willow mother.”

“Well—no. Of course you’re not.”

Of course I’m not. I’m not looking for the most eligible bachelor with the biggest bank account.

“I’m successful in my own right mom. I don’t need a man to take care of me.”

“I didn’t say that Haisley. I just meant that it would be nice to see you with someone every once in a while.

I am. Just not in the context she would like. Usually it’s in a hotel room—under the sheets or against the wall.

“The day I bring someone home is the day hell has frozen over. On that day, you better call an ambulance because I’m already dying and I’m just trying to give you your last wish.”

“Haisley Carina Knox.”

“I got to go, Mom. I need to meet Ella and Phoebe in a little while and I still need to get dressed.”

I hear the sigh. It’s the sigh full of nothing but judgement and disapproval. Yet she knows there’s nothing she can do. I’m 26 years old. I’m way beyond her telling me how to live my life. She had high hopes for me to marry well. I had high hopes that she would forget about it altogether.

“Alright. Call me in a few days. Let me know your still alive at least.”

“I will. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart.”

Walking into my closet I search for the perfect outfit. My closet is pretty extensive. Where my sister Willow shops for the richest bachelor, I shop for clothes. Where she shops for the one who’s going to put a ring on her finger, I shop for shoes and where she’s looking for the perfect man to take care of her, so she never has to work, I’m looking for a new handbag. My sister and I are like night and day.

She has never worked a day in her life and isn’t ashamed of it. Her plans in life are to be the perfect trophy wife. Which I’m sure she’ll be good at with her tall, slender frame. She has blonde hair (which isn’t her normal color by the way), blue eyes and breasts that she just had redone compliments of her last rich bachelor. She’s quite beautiful. Turns heads wherever she goes and she knows it. Me on the other hand, took my father’s color in hair. So, it’s a deep brown, almost black and I took mom’s blue eyes. I’m also tall. Not quite as slender as Willow, but of course she can get knocked over with the wind. Unlike Willow, who I’ve never seen eat more than a couple of lettuce leaves, I’m not afraid to eat. So, I have some curves and an ass that I’m told that just won’t quit. So there. I have a great ass and a little thicker. So, sue me. I still rock this life like nobody’s business.

I’ve also worked my romp off to get where I’m at, physically and metaphorically speaking. I stay in the gym with a trainer three days a week. I’m also a songwriter and singer. I don’t sing as much as I sell my songs. I get paid a ton of money for my songs to be sung by some of the most famous singers in the world. I get paid even more royalties if that song is used in movies, commercials, or any other platform. My newest song that was just picked up was used in one of the movies that just came out. It’s supposed to be a trilogy. So, they are already wanting another song for the second movie, set to start filming in about a year. Which means I kind of need to read the books, I guess. I just hope it’s not another vampire or werewolf movie. Give me a bad boy. One who just thinks he can live without her until he realizes he can’t. Then realizes it’s too damn late. Damn, maybe I need to start writing books too.

After grabbing a quick shower and sliding on a short black dress that hugs all my scrumptious curves, I grab my favorite black strappy heels. If I plan on dancing, these heels are the ones for it. I was going to leave my hair down but figured it would get too hot, so I pulled it up in a high ponytail, curling the ends. Going to the mirror, I decide on just some nude lipstick, some color on my cheeks, mascara, and I’m good to go. Nobody really wants to sweat a whole face full of makeup off in a hot as hell dance club. Alcohol, dancing, and a lot of bodies in one building equals sweat. If it weren’t for so many bodies pressed up against each other, I’d question the underwear but thongs it is. After my phone rings, I hit the speaker and continue to get my things together.

“Bitch! Are you not ready yet?” Phoebe yells.

“I got stuck on the phone with mom.”

“This place is kicking already. Fine looking men.”

“Save me at least one will you, Phoebe? I need to get laid tonight and I know you. You like to take them all for yourself.”

“Well then you better hurry your up and get here. They’re sitting up in the VIP across from us. Damn, fine indeed.”

“Well as long as at least one has a halfway decent cock and knows how to use it, I’m good to go. No need to see his face that well.”

“Oh, you’re going to want to see their faces.”

“We’ll see. I’m on my way. Order me Vodka Cran.”

“Will do!!”

Grabbing a cab, I head towards the Dragon Tails Nightclub. It’s the most popular club in the city and the only place we go to dance. The bouncers know us by name. We never wait in line and always sit in VIP.

I have the cab driver pull up to the front. I pay the driver and carefully get out so as to not show everyone here my goods. Maybe the dress is a little shorter than I thought because when I sit down it rides all the way up high on my thigh. Yep, keeping legs crossed and no bending over tonight. I hear the groans and curses as I walk up to Bruce, kiss him on the cheek and walk inside. On my way in I heard Bruce say to the other bouncer Curt, “Damn that ass.”

I turn my head right before the door shuts and see Bruce looking and I wink. Making my way up to our usual VIP section, I hear the squeals of Phoebe and Ella.

“It’s about damn time! Come on, drink up and let’s go dance!” Phoebe squeals.

“Sorry! My mom wouldn’t let me off the damn phone. Willow found her a new one. She’s sure this one is going to ring those wedding bells she wants so damn bad.”

Ella asks, “Wait—what happened to the last one? You know, the one who paid for her boob job.”

“He left her for one who was “natural.” You know, the curtains match the drapes sort of thing.”

“Oh my god. Tell me he didn’t.”

“Yep. Told her the ombre didn’t do it for him anymore. Blonde on top, brown down south.”

Phoebe loses it and spits her drink everywhere. The bad part is the poor waiter was just bringing me a second vodka cran.

“I’m so sorry!” I tell him over the music.

As I was helping the waiter clean himself up, I looked up to see a set of deep, dark eyes staring hard in our direction. Hot damn. There was three gorgeous men on the other VIP section. Phoebe was right. I definitely wanted to see their faces. Especially Mr. Dark eyes with his chiseled jaw and week-old scruff. He’s wearing what looked like a dark blue suit, but it was missing the jacket. The white shirt has the first few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled midway up his arms. Those pants though? They fit him like a second skin, and I itched to wrap my legs around those muscular legs.

Looking back up to his face, I see him leaning forward with his arms on his legs and his fingers barely laced together, steadily watching my face. Then he purposely nods his hello, never taking his eyes off mine.

Holy shit. I just realized he was watching me the whole time I was steadily checking him out.