Forrest

MEGAN

Suckstastic!

IT HAD been eight days since I lost my job. Eight days of wallowing in self-pity at the four corners of my apartment—alone. And every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was the image flickering of my evil boss as he tried to violate me. He was a shameless piece of shit and thought I would just welcome his loser dick because he had one.

Since I kneed him on his balls and punched his wrinkled ugly face, I hadn’t seen or heard from him again. I was immensely grateful and scared at the same time that cops would just knock on my door informing me that someone sued me for assault.

I’d never been violent in my entire life, in fact, I was always a victim. Then I saw red when he tried to do that thing that I was scared of. My instinct kicked in, and I did what I thought was right to save a little morality I had left.

It was passed six when I got out of my bed. I tried hard to ignore my urge to call Camila and Bianca because I knew they were both busy with their husbands. And at this time, Blaine was busy playing with Ben and Sammy—who wouldn’t? those kids were adorable. Lucky for them, they met men who respected, loved and treasured them like true gems. But luck was not on my side though, and I doubted if I could trust my heart to any man over again.

I checked my phone, of course, no calls, no messages—no one cared. Naught.

My life sucks!

***

The Night Stalker Club was crowded. The noises always made me feel alive, reminding me that I still had a reason to live despite my life had been turned upside down a couple of times, reeled and grief-stricken—I still managed to pull myself together. Yay to me!

I passed through the crowd and approached the bar. Thankfully, I found an empty barstool and rested my elbows on the dark counter, tapping my blood red-colored nails as if I wasn’t drowning with self-pity earlier.

My heart was speeding up in a second of anticipation as I scanned around, but I couldn’t find him. Was he off work today?

“Caipirinha, please?”

Dice, a bartender with Afro head nodded. The staff knew me through Camila and Pyke. I hummed to the pop song played by the DJ at his booth.

A few moments later, Dice placed down my drink and placed another order from the man beside me who wore a strong perfume. I turned my head slightly to check him out. He was wearing a sophisticated tailored suit with shiny personalized cuff links. He was rich, probably had his own office in Manhattan business district.

He raised his Jack on the rocks to acknowledge me and sipped it, then slightly turned to face me.

I smiled timidly and sipped my Brazilian drink, and let the grassy herbaceous taste of cachaça washed over my loneliness. Wash, huh? Ridiculous!

“Hi,” he prompted, smiling confidently. You’re rich but not attractive. I don’t feel all tingly.

I must say though, this man was tall and physically fit, but I didn’t come here tonight to flirt and get laid just to get rid of this sorrow churning inside me. I still couldn’t forget what that dipshit did to me. I guessed I was born jinx after all.

waiting for someone.” I crossed my legs to avoid touching his

beautiful woman wait.” He raised

instead, I smiled. “What made you think I am waiting for a... man?”

He strolled his gaze from my face to my chest, to my exposed thighs.

right, but I am really waiting for someone.”

entrance.” Back off, already! Your cufflinks are too shiny for my taste. He

my hand to

“Megan.”

choked on my heart and my pulse pounded in my ears. My head snapped to the

thick brows squished

thought it

made my knees tremble. This man always carried the pain, mystery, and broody character, but he was damn beautiful with his imperfection. His powerful presence caught me hyper-aware that

coughed his name.

somewhat assess me before he talked again. “You okay?”

staring at him for a couple of seconds and not saying anything. It was always this way.

My word came unsure.

I get you another drink?” He looked down at

shaky as I pushed the

I completely forgot I was about to shake his hand.

I glanced at him. “He’s here.”

of Forrest who

more tattoos underneath the dark shirt he

watched his biceps bulged as he busied

“Your brother

my head and stared at the man for good seconds. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Forrest placed the drink in front of me.

off, dude. You’re not her type.” Forrest’s voice was deep and harsh, but I could feel that was

“You’re one to talk.”

“What do you think?”

didn’t even open his mouth if he didn’t have to. He was a man of a few words. He used to brood than to

didn’t have the gut to even talk to him if I didn’t have a choice. He intimidated me like a predator, but something deep inside me triggered every time we locked our gazes—it was like rolling of thunder with

where it doesn’t belong. I am just asking a

you asked another beautiful lady yesterday?”

your problem?”

Didn’t she tell you she was waiting for someone?” Oh,