Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(18)

We didn’t end up having to take turns taking naps, since Bev took the boys out for the afternoon. We both crashed for three hours, me on the couch, and Danika on her bed.

I ended up cooking everyone enchiladas for dinner, just to watch the look on Danika’s face as she tasted them.

When I’d realized that I couldn’t move into my new apartment for a few weeks, even though the lease on my old apartment was already up, I hadn’t known things would turn out like this. Still, I wasn’t complaining. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d had more fun.

I wore a dark, collared shirt and jeans for our night out. Few clubs were as strict with their dress code as the Cavendish resort, and Cory wasn’t working, so we couldn’t afford to go to Decadence.

Danika came out in tiny black satin shorts, and a crimson blouse that hugged her breasts in a way that made my mouth water. She was wearing the same f*ck-me heels she’d had on the night before, and it was official—she had killer legs.

“Fucking A,” I said, not bothering to watch my language, since the boys were already in bed.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, tossing her hair as she gave me a sassy grin. “Is Kenny our chauffeur again?”

I nodded. “Let’s wait outside for him. If he had to ring the bell, that might wake the boys, and then there might be hell to pay.”

It was a bit of a challenge to get out of the front door without the dogs getting loose, but Danika managed it like a pro.

“So you don’t have a house, or a car?” she asked, as we made our way to the curb to wait for Kenny.

I smirked. She didn’t pull punches, that was for sure. “I have a car. I loaned it to a buddy, who needed to drive to L.A. for a few days.”

“That was nice of you,” she said.

I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, especially since I have friends like Kenny, who will drive me around.”

“Kenny is a sweetheart,” she said, sounding like she meant it.

I felt my jaw clenching, though I knew it was unreasonable to be jealous.

“He’s a guy in a band. Don’t trust any of us,” I warned, my voice harsher than I’d intended.

She shrugged. “You all seem safe enough to me, as long as I’m not stupid enough to date any of you.”

I felt a wave of relief at her dismissive tone. “Exactly.”

We ended up going to a club that ironically enough was called Tryst. I shot Danika a warning look when Kenny told us where we were headed. The look said ‘say a word, and I won’t cook you breakfast again’.

She seemed to get the point, but her grin was infuriating.

“You getting us free drinks at this place?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kenny answered. “Our buddy Doug is working one of the bars tonight.”

“Do you have connections at every club in town?” she questioned.

“Just about,” Kenny conceded. “When you’re trying to promote a local band, you tend to get to know a lot of the people working the clubs.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that you guys seem to go out every night, too,” she shot back.

Tryst was packed. Still, the bouncer at the door recognized us on sight, and let us in with one small nod. Getting in was always half the battle.

We found Doug at one of the main bars in the club. He nodded when he saw me, waving me over. His bar was so packed that I had to shoulder my way in.

“Got you guys a table,” he said into my ear, voice pitched low. “And bottle service. It’s your lucky night.”

I grinned. “Thanks, man.”

“Sure thing. It’s not like you’ve never hooked me up. Who’s that f*cking hottie you walked in with?”

My grin wilted a little. “My friend, Danika. She’s off-limits.”

He sighed. “All the ones that look like that usually are.”

A VIP hostess showed us to our seats, courtesy of Doug. She was cute, and shot me some very inviting looks.

I smiled, not really considering it. I’d invited Danika out to dance, and by God, we were going to dance, even if I was jonesing for a hook-up.

Danika gave me a mischievous smile as we slid onto the cushioned VIP bench.

“So where did you learn to cook like that?” she asked. “Those were the best enchiladas I’ve ever had, and enchiladas are one of my favorites.”

I smiled, thinking of my mother. “My mother taught me to cook. You should try her enchiladas. They put mine to shame, especially since I was missing some of the ingredients for pico on top.”

“Does she live here in Vegas?”

“Yes. In fact, I’m due for a family dinner soon, and I’m going to make you come with me.”

Her eyes widened. “You want me to meet your parents?”

My face stiffened a little, but I didn’t let it show. It couldn’t be a sore subject if I didn’t allow it to be.

“I want you to meet my mother. I’ve never met my father. He left the second my mother told him she was pregnant. Never bothered to look him up.”

She nodded, her eyes searching my face. She swallowed. “We’re in the same boat, my friend. I’ve not a clue who my father is. My mother would never tell me a thing about him.”

I blinked, a little taken aback. It was selfish, but I felt comforted by the thought that she and I had both experienced something so painful. It made me feel less alone, and so connected to her in ways I couldn’t remember being connected to anyone besides family since I could remember.