I nodded. “She said it was to see me, but the way he was hanging all over her, I seriously doubt that,” I said. “She wanted to get even with me. Make me jealous.”
“Manipulative little whore,” my mom muttered.
I stifled a laugh. My mom wasn't one to call people names, but her loyalty to me knew no bounds, and I loved her for it.
I looked at the time and downed the rest of my wine. “Sorry, Ma, I have to get going,” I said. “Hanging with Greg tonight.”
“Another night on the town?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You know that when you have a baby, you can't do this.”
“Exactly why I need to have fun now. Before I'm strapped down with responsibility,” I said, giving her a wink. “Don't worry. I won't be out too late.”
“And you'll make that appointment on Monday?”
“Yes, Mom,” I sighed.
It was worth at least talking to them and explore any options I might have. Especially if it made my mom happy. After all, it sounded like I was going to need to have a baby sometime within the next nine months or so if I wanted to make sure my father's company didn't end up in Adam's hands.
That meant that, unless I met the girl of my dreams at some point within the next few days or so, and things moved very fast, it was likely not going to happen.
Hell, I'd have had better odds at winning the lottery. Damn my dad for doing this to me. Damn him.
~ooo000ooo~
The Obelisk was the club for playboys with disposable income, which was exactly why Greg always chose it when we went out. Situated in Beverly Hills, it was nearly impossible to get inside without knowing someone or being known yourself.
Celebrities often posted selfies from inside the club, in front of the waterfalls that are several stories high, surrounded by glass so the water and light created rainbows and other prismatic effects. It was a work of art in and of itself, and perfect for Instagramable moments.
Such was life in the digital age.
Of course, the beautiful cocktail waitresses didn't hurt the club's reputation either. Especially since the outfits had gotten skimpier recently – another reason Greg always wanted to go there.
“Think that hottie will be here tonight?” he asked me as we pushed past some models puckering for their iPhone cameras in front of the waterfall.
“Which one?” I laughed, looking around us. “We're surrounded by hotties.”
“You know which one,” he said, his voice colored with excitement. “The one that takes no shit from anyone. I love a feisty woman.”
Yeah, I knew exactly which one he'd meant. He was right, she didn't take shit from anybody. Small, but fierce. There was definitely something sexy about that. I could see why Greg was practically wetting himself.
“Carly or something like that...”
“Casey,” I said.
Greg shot me a half-grin. “Ah man, you know her name,” he said. “Maybe she can help you forget all about Danielle.”
“No, I think I'm going to pass,” I said. “Not into rebounds, Greg. You know that.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “I'll make sure to tell you how she is in the sack.”
“Yeah, you stand as much of a chance of getting her into the sack as I do of driving my car to Mars.”
Greg was strictly a trust-fund kid. Daddy's money took care of him, so he could travel the world and claim to be a socialite. Nightclubs had even paid for his very presence – and for what? Just to claim they had a billionaire playboy frequent the club? I guess it brought in the ladies or something like that. Still, I had a hard time calling it a job.
He'd always had the inside scoop on the best places to party, though, which was why we'd made a good pair. Even though I found him to be a raging doucehbag most of the time, we'd practically grown up together, so he got a pass from time to time.
We slid into a corner booth that faced the dance floor, which was currently filled with bright lights, more prismatic colors, and lots of women wearing next to nothing, bumping and grinding with the music. Lots of skin, long hair, long legs, short skirts, big tits – suffice it to say, the view was pretty incredible from our booth.
The wall behind us was a large, ever-flowing waterfall with more lights streaming out of it. The name, Obelisk, came from the fact that the nightclub itself was several stories tall, with different levels, some of them feeling like hidden retreats. I had no doubt about what happened in some of the little nooks and crannies within the club – places where the light did not shine. There