Smoky by Connie Bailey Read Free Book Online

Smoky
     
     
    “W HERE are you taking us?” Jaramie looked nervously around at the broken streetlights, the dark alleys, and the overflowing Dumpsters.
    “Just get out of the car. You’ll be fine.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “You sound like an old maid at a nudist camp.”
    “I do not.” Jaramie gave his friend a wounded look. “But come on, admit it: this neighborhood looks pretty rough.”
    “Do you want to hear some really good music or not?” Tommy said, playing on Jaramie’s biggest weakness. Jaramie loved good music in all its forms, from symphonic to hip hop.
    “Where is this club anyway?” Jaramie asked. “I don’t see any signs, and I expect to be squashed by a garbage truck any second.”
    “There isn’t a sign. I told you; they don’t want just anyone coming in.”
    Jaramie sighed. “How did I let you talk me into this?”
    “Oh for fuck’s sake, will you please stop bitching for five minutes? You always do this. I have to coax and beg and practically get out the cattle prod to get you out of the apartment, and you always end up enjoying it.”
    “Sorry I’m such a drag.” Jaramie said as he shut the car door quite a bit harder than necessary.
    Tommy rolled his eyes again. “You know I love you, and you’re a great roommate.”
    “Really?”
    “Of course.” Tommy took Jaramie’s arm as they began to walk. “I just wish you were a little more… self-confident.”
    “I do too.”
    Tommy sighed. “I wish I knew what you see when you look in the mirror, because it’s obviously not the same thing I see when I look at you. You’re drop-dead gorgeous, and you have a body that won’t quit. You’re beautiful right down to the ground, but you don’t seem to know it.”
    “Looks aren’t everything.”
    “No, but looks are usually what attract people in the first place.”
    “I don’t like those kinds of people.”
    “At this rate you’ll never get a boyfriend. Just don’t whine to me about it, okay?”
    A dimple appeared in Jaramie’s left cheek. “But what will we talk about at work?”
    Tommy glanced at his friend and saw that Jaramie was teasing him. “You’re right. It would be boring to actually talk about the job,” he said, and then turned serious. “I thought I was going to love it, but just because I love clothes doesn’t mean I love selling them.”
    “Seriously,” Jaramie said in agreement. “The only thing I like about working at the mall is the discount we get on the merchandise.”
    Tommy glanced at Jaramie again, admiring his friend’s figure in the tight, artfully ripped, heather-toned jeans and cream-colored, semi-transparent shirt. Maybe Tommy was a little conceited, but he thought he had a real knack for choosing the right clothes for a body type, and the outfit he’d picked for Jaramie had turned his roommate into a sex bomb just waiting to detonate. If all went well, Tommy hoped to get Jaramie laid tonight. As much as he loved his friend, he was tired of listening to him complain about not having a man when men were falling over themselves to get close to the bashful beauty. It was Tommy’s opinion that Jaramie was a little too picky for his own good. Well, the guys that frequented the Caveman’s Club were far from shy.
    “Here it is.” Tommy stopped beside a roll-up garage door and turned to Jaramie for inspection. Jaramie automatically adjusted the hang of Tommy’s chocolate suede jacket and ran a critical eye over the snug beige tank top and curve-hugging corduroy pants.
    “You look fantastic,” Jaramie said. “I love those suede boots.”
    Tommy looked down. “I’ll have to go without lunch all week, but they’re worth it.”
    “Thanks for letting me borrow your Doc Martens,” Jaramie said.
    Tommy transferred his gaze from his feet to Jaramie’s. The dusty purple jeans looked very sharp tucked into the tops of the olive green combat-style boots. “Just don’t spill anything on them,” he said.
    “As if.” Jaramie tossed his