Page 54 of Forgotten Comeback (Parisi Family #5)

Chapter

Fifty-Three

Taylor

“Baby, I need to get back to the bar. Why don’t you join me when you’re finished?” Gavin tells me as I move the paintbrush in long strokes, creating black “zebra” stripes over the white base coat on the model’s chest. Gavin and I agreed that my hands aren’t touching any body parts, so good to go.

Zebras. Lions. Cheetahs. Flamingos. An artistic menagerie of exotic animals.

“Sounds good,” I tell him, still focused on my work.

Gavin gives me directions to the bar and a quick kiss before he walks out, and I return my undivided attention to my “medium.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, your boyfriend is a hottie.” The model whistles.

“He is, but don’t tell him that.” I smile, adding another stripe across the model’s stomach.

“Not that your face card isn’t lethal.”

“Aww, that’s something you can tell me, over and over,” I joke.

“Girl, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you. That man’s down bad.”

My heart’s suddenly pounding like a drum, that foreboding feeling back with a vengeance. “This is my first time working one of these parties. What is your job?” I change the subject to a safer topic.

“Uh, I’m a zebra?”

“Got that much.” I chortle.

“Tonight’s spotlight fetish is pet play, and I’m one of the animals in the petting zoo. Patrons can touch, if I allow it. There are a couple of regulars who have a humiliation kink, and those get turned down in a really loud and messy way,” he explains.

“Hum, I’m not familiar with pet play,” I admit, moving the paintbrush bristles in the last of the body paint.

“It’s not my favorite, but I’m an exhibitionist, so as long as I’m performing for an audience, I’m game.”

It’s not the performance aspect that gets me going with public sex, but the element of danger. The thrill that someone might catch us.

Gavin has brought some much needed excitement to my life. A smile stretches across my face.

“Girl, please put on a show with your boyfriend. Let me live vicariously through you,” he begs.

I snort a laugh, finishing up the last stripe. “There you go, Zebra.”

He examines my work in the mirror. “You’re crazy talented.”

My knee-jerk reaction is to bristle at his word choice, but I shake it off. “Thanks. Have fun tonight.”

“You too,” he says wistfully.

After tidying up and washing my hands, I venture in search of the bar.

Go past the petting zoo…

Oh my, some of the petting has already begun.

Past the cigar lounge…

Never seen a cigar inside that orifice.

Make a left at the music room…

A masked woman’s getting railed bent over a piano.

And you’ve reached the bar.

And here I am, all hot and bothered, only to find multiple bitches thirsting over my man.

I march right behind the bar, wrapping my arms around Gavin’s neck and kissing the shit out of him. “Why don’t I help you?” I offer against his lips.

“Sure,” he says with a grin. “Get me started on a cosmopolitan.”

My nose crinkles.

“Thought you liked that drink?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Hate it,” I admit to him quietly as I line up the juice, booze, mixing glass, and jiggers, getting to work.

Staring down a woman who’s eye-fucking Gavin, I pour the concoction and tamp down on the mixing glass a little too hard before giving the shaker a violent shake.

The drink gets strained into the cocktail glass, and I add a wheel of fresh lime and present it to her. This woman has audacity in spades. Still eye-fucking Gavin, she tears her gaze off of him and finally acknowledges me. “Here’s your cosmopolitan,” I tell her.

She takes a sip, making a face. “This is in desperate need of more vodka and cranberry.”

“Sure thing.” Gavin intercepts the drink before I pour it over the woman’s head, and he turns his back to her. Doing absolutely nothing, he turns back around and presents the same drink. “There you go.”

She takes a sip and flashes a sultry smile. “Perfect.”

Gavin locks eyes with me when our backs are to the bar, with mine rolling so hard they’re in danger of becoming dislodged. He silently chuckles before grabbing a beer and popping the top, giving it a perfect pour into a fancy glass.

Turning around, I attempt a polite smile at the patron next to cosmopolitan woman. Not that it matters; she’s checking out Gavin’s ass. I clear my throat. “What can I get you?”

“I’m waiting for him,” the woman tells me dismissively.

“Same,” cosmopolitan lady says.

“He’s not on the menu.” I meant for it to come off as a breezy joke, but it sounds more bitchy than anything. “What do you want to drink?”

“Don’t order a cosmopolitan from her,” the woman beside her whispers conspiratorially.

“Vodka soda.”

I get to work on the drink, deciding that I do need to learn how to throw a bare-knuckles punch.

After the rush clears out, I inform Gavin crossly, “I’m never bartending with you again.”

He wraps his arms around me with a grin. “You’re the only woman I want. I love being in a committed, exclusive relationship with you. See, I don’t have to flirt with every woman in the Tri-State area, Philly included. How am I doing on the reassurance?”

Keeping my face neutral, I lift a disinterested shoulder. “Meh.”

“Red’s your color, but green is a close second.” Gavin smirks, picking me up by the hips and placing me on the bar. “My dick, my tongue, or my fingers?” he says against my ear, nipping my lobe with his teeth.

My body arches, baring more of my neck, and he runs his teeth along my fluttering pulse. “All of the above,” I whisper.

Reassurance, ultimate boss.

“But in the break room.”

Thirsty bitches—male or female—aren’t going to live vicariously through me tonight.