Page 34 of Goode to Be Bad
He shook his head. “I know better.”
“Dammit, Myles, that’s not fair.”
He pulled me close, wrapped me up in a hug. A warm, enveloping, platonic, safe embrace. Just held me. “I’ll wait, Lex. I know you got shit you can’t talk about, won’t talk about. I ain’t blind. It’s deep, and it’s big, and it’s painful, and I doubt you’ve ever talked about it. I ain’t gonna ask, now or ever. I want to know—Ineedto know. But you gotta decide if you trust me, if I’m somebody you want deep enough in your life to give me your secrets. Only you can decide that. I ain’t pushin’, Lex. Not gonna. Just so we’re clear, I am asking you to try to trust me. To give it to me. Talk to me. But this, right here, right now, it’s the only time I’m gonna say it. It’s up to you, Lex, and I’m strong enough and patient enough to wait for you to figure it out on your own time.”
I let him hold me and didn’t try to respond. I had nothing to respond with. Eventually, the panic attack lessened, faded away, and left me. When I could, I pushed away from him. Drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I stared up at him and tried to find something to say. “Myles, I…”
He touched my lips. “Don’t have to say anything, Lex. Just wanted you to know where I’m at.” He took my hand, twined his fingers with mine, and smiled at me. “Ready?”
I sighed again—I didn’t deserve him, the way he treated me. But I was going to take it, because it felt too good to deny myself. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Badd Kitty turnedout to be Badd Kitty Saloon—a supermasculine place, but in an inviting, appealing way. Faded, reclaimed wood for the floorboards and walls, weathered, aged, rusted, reclaimed bits of tin, copper, and steel for trim and odds and ends, a long polished bar running the entire length of the interior on one side, real double-hinged batwing doors in front of the bathrooms and kitchen; forties and fifties pinup posters on the walls, along with movie posters from spaghetti westerns, Charles Bronson movies, and old black-and-white horrors likePsycho,Nosferatu,andCreature from the Black Lagoon. Other decorations included an entire antique motorcycle on one section of wall, a pair of Old West pearl-handled revolvers and a gun belt, and an assorted collection of antique tools and weaponry. There were lots of two-tops and four-tops in the middle with plenty of space between the tables and a space for people to dance and mill around. Booths lined the wall opposite the bar.
Interestingly, there were only two TVs in the whole place, placed on either end of the bar, and neither was tuned to Sports Center, but instead both were playing what looked likeThe Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, with the volume up enough that if you were sitting near the TV, you could actually hear it. There was music playing everywhere else, an old Elvis Costello tune I recognized but couldn’t have named.
The bar was busy, but I soon realized that it was only immediate Badd and Goode family members and attached significant others and kids in attendance; there was actually a sign on a stand as you entered which stated the bar was closed for a private event.
And good golly Miss Molly, what a crew it was. Every male I saw was more mouthwateringly hot than the last—I’m not ashamed to say that if the entire collection of men in this room were to do a nude or mostly nude calendar, I’d be the first to buy one and hang it in my bathroom for the purposes of visual stimulation while twiddling my bean. Becausedamn, the men were hot. The sheer volume of muscle and testosterone and insanely perfect male sexiness was so overwhelming I had to fan myself, and restrain myself from running into the bathroom and doing something inappropriate with myself—or better yet, with Myles. I mean, the testosterone and sexiness levels were off the charts.
And then there were the women.
I have a healthy self-esteem, okay? Facts are facts, and I’m hot. I know what I look like and I’m not intimidated being in a room with other beautiful women.
But…the women milling around in the Badd Kitty Saloon? Each of them was incredible.
Faces so beautiful they could start not just fights but whole wars.
Bodies that made mine seem downright frumpy.
Perfect hair in shades ranging from blond to brown to red to black like my own.
Mesmerizing eyes.
Brilliant smiles.
Geez, what a group.
Myles and I were standing in the entrance, taking it all in, and I glanced up at Myles. “Wow.”
He snorted in disbelief. “No kidding. Wow. I mean, where do I look first? The men make me feel like a ninety-pound wuss, and the women make me feel funny in the pants region.”
“Right? I mean, god. Check out the monster dude behind the bar talking to Mom. He makes even Jupiter look small and puny.”
“Must be Baxter, the one Jupe was telling us about.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was the physical embodiment of a comic book superhero. “He’s scary as fuck.” I eyed the crowd again. “I won’t be mad if you feel a little overcome by lust at some of these women, I gotta say.”
He shook his head. “Check out the strawberry blonde with the ice cream-colored skin and the freckles, over there with the blond Adonis.”
I followed his gaze, and was dumbstruck with marvel. “Dude.”
“Right?”
“I think I have boob envy.”
He guffawed. “You got no reason to envyanyone, Lex. But yeah, she’s fuckin’stacked.”
“Is that how you’d describe me? Stacked?”