Alexander Avery was leaning up against the mahogany bar of one of the most popular clubs on Rush Street. His brother, Cole, was hitting on some trashy looking babe at the end of the bar, and Alex was bored with the whole scene. The scotch burned in his throat as he casually looked around. The interested glances of the many women there did not escape his attention, but left him unmoved. He ran his hand over the soft layer of scruff on his jaw and sighed.
Maybe I’m getting old, he thought, but Jesus Christ! I’m only thirty-two. There was a time when he would have jumped on that shit. Now, while it flattered him, it offered limited stimulation. He had yet to find a woman who moved him as much mentally as she did physically, which could be the huge source of his apathy, he admitted.
Maybe it was Whitney’s incessant whining that made his dick go limp, or maybe it was his mother’s demands that it was time he settled down. Between the two of them, he thought his fucking head would explode. Alex glanced in Cole’s direction again and rolled his eyes at his brother’s expression. Cole raised his head from the woman he was talking to and nodded as if to say ‘oh yeah, I’m gonna hit this’.
As for Alex, he wasn’t into one-night stands. Not anymore. He hadn’t been that careless since college, preferring to have monogamous relationships but yet, unemotional. It was a tricky situation and a fine line to walk, but he was a man, and he needed sex. He just preferred it without all the emotional bullshit that came with it, and he made that clear to every woman he got involved with. The problem was; they always seemed to have a hidden agenda, no matter what they agreed to up front. Whitney had turned from being a confident, aggressive sexual partner into a whining, mewling mess he could barely tolerate. That situation had to end, but he wasn’t looking forward to the actual confrontation.
As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and pulling it out, he saw that it was a text from her.
“Where are you? Come over. I miss seeing you.”
He was still looking at the screen when Darian finally arrived. They met in graduate school, both pursuing MBAs and had been friends ever since. Alex’s degree was in economics and finance and Darian’s in marketing and communications. Alex’s family owned a conglomerate of businesses, and he was CFO of the parent company. He’d come back to Chicago after a short stint in New York City at a huge investment firm, and he’d been very smart about investing at Avery Enterprises as a result of his experience. The company had new resources and was able to acquire several smaller companies under his watch. Some observers might call it luck, but his father and the board of directors knew it was shrewd business dealings and rock solid negotiation skills combined with know-how to turn failing businesses around.
“It’s about damn time, man. Where have you been?” Alex growled as he shoved his phone back in his pocket without answering Whitney’s text.
Darian leaned in casually and ordered a beer from the bartender. “If you’d listen to your friends, Alex, you’d know that I have that new radio show at the station.”
Alex vaguely remembered Darian mentioning a hot psychologist that he was trying to land for that gig several weeks back, but had lost track of when it was supposed to happen or even it if materialized.
At the time, Alex had been skeptical and teased him. “How can a psychologist be hot? Probably wears Mary Janes and bifocals, and can freeze ice in her vagina,” he’d mocked.
“Dude. She is. Trust me,” Darian had retorted with a laugh, but the subject had been dropped.
“Oh, sure. How is that going?”
“It’s doing well. The promotion is starting Monday, and I expect the phones to ring off the wall. Dudes will be clamoring to talk to her when they see what she looks like, but she is one tough cookie. She’ll make hamburger out of them. I’m expecting to laugh my ass off.” Darian smiled as he took a long pull on his longneck beer.
“Hmmph,” Alex scoffed, unimpressed. “Whatever.”
Darian just stared and shook his head at his friend’s disbelief.
“What’s your problem?” Alex asked at Darian’s expression. He ran a hand through his thick midnight hair and took a swallow from his glass.
“You mean… what’s your problem, don’t you?” Darian scowled.
“Listen, if you have something to say, I wish you’d just say it. I’ve had a rough week, and I’m wound too tight to have you dancing around something you clearly want to say.”
“Ah. Things not so good with Whitney?” Darian’s eyebrows shot up in mock inquisition.
His relationships weren’t something Alex discussed in great detail. His friends knew he saw women as a convenient way to sate sexual urges and fulfill business obligations, but he never talked about them much. Darian was aware that Alex had yet to meet a woman that he actually wanted to spend time with outside of the bedroom. It was cool, though, because Alex took full responsibility and was honest about his intentions.
Alex was so focused on growing the family business he didn’t have time for romantic distractions. Even if he would have had the inclination to seek it out, he didn’t, not because he was a cold bastard, but it was just a choice that worked.
“Why do you say that?” Alex asked with sincere interest, pulling out a stool and finally sitting down. Where is he going with this?
“You’d better get prepared for a shit storm, man. That’s all I’m saying.” Alex glanced at his friend and Darian’s eyes widened, but only very slightly. “Whitney called in to the show tonight.”
An angry flush rose up underneath Alex’s skin at the implication of Darian’s comment. His expression hardened and the muscle in his jaw started to twitch. Part of the bargain was that he’d provide Whitney with an apartment and bank account, and she’d keep her mouth shut about the true nature of their relationship and not try to turn it into more than it was.
“She did what?” His tone was quiet, but edged in steel.
They were both seated at the bar, facing in, and Darian glanced at his friend’s tense expression in the mirror. Alex set his glass down hard enough to have the liquid swishing over the rim, which prompted Darian to answer.
“She called the show.” Darian shrugged, trying to hide a smile but glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye. He never liked that fake bitch, and the sooner Alex walked, the happier he’d be.
It was clear that the news made Alex angry, but he was good at keeping his cool; years of practice being detached and indifferent helped him regain his composure quickly. He ran a hand over the lower half of his face. “Really? What did she say?”
“That you make her feel invisible.” Darian set his beer on the bar and shifted in his seat. The bartender approached both men to see if they needed another round, but he held his hand up and shook his head, quickly letting the man know that this was not a good time. The savvy bartender took the hint and turned away in a hurry, silently nodding in understanding.
Alex felt a slight twinge of regret. He cared about Whitney, as much as he’d ever cared about a woman, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe he did make her feel invisible, but then, she made him feel like a bank account. “Well, that’s about right.” Alex said quietly and shrugged. “I’m getting ready to end it anyway. I’m just not interested. It isn’t working anymore. She’s always on my ass for more time, more money, more… shit.”