The Truth About Love

"Well I bartend a few nights a week at a bar a few blocks from here."

"Wait, so you left a bar to come hang out at a bar?"

"Yeah, I guess I did." She chuckled, throwing back a quick shot of whiskey.

That was her fourth shot, not to mention the handful of mixed drinks she had already sucked up like a fish. Either it just hadn't caught up with her yet, or she had an incredibly high tolerance level.

I had discovered that she was 32, although she often lied and said she was 29. She had dropped out of college twice and she had lived in New York for six years.

"So bartending part times brings in enough money to live in New York?" I questioned curiously.

Something wasn't adding up here. I was under the impression that New York was a very expensive place to live.

"Well I technically don't have to work at all. My family's rather well off. Enough that I just bartend and do a couple of modeling gigs every once in a while to pass my time." She shrugged, gazing out across the dance floor.

The others had gone to dance with a group of girls some minutes previous but I had stayed with Roxanne. I didn't think it was very polite of Mark to invite his cousin out with us and then ditch her for some random girls.

"So how did you come by that accent?"

"Oh, I modeled in London for a few years when I got out of high school." She replied dismissively with a wave of her hand.

"Do you wanna dance?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She grinned, tipping back another shot and slamming the glass down onto the table.

She stood up from the table, taking off her bag and covering it with her jacket. As she slipped out of her jacket, I noticed a tattoo between her shoulder blades, and another on the inside of her upper arm.

I offered her my arm and led her to the edge of the dancing crowd. She turned so her back was to me and I reached around, resting a hand on her hip. I had to hold in a groan as she started grinding into my crotch, massaging me with her ass. The woman definitely knew how to wind a man up.

The spicy sent of whatever perfume she was wearing wound around me, making me feel lightheaded and dizzy. Although those symptoms could just as well have been attributed to the alcohol I had consumed.

My free hand caressed the soft skin of her shoulder and upper arm as I cast my eyes down to the smooth plain of her shoulder and upper back. In the hazy blue light I made out the words of her tattoo.

'Let me be lighter. I'm tired of being a fighter.'

MARK'S POV

"Hey where'd they go?"

Rob, Chris, and I had returned from dancing and found Jeremy and Roxanne gone.

"Looks like they're getting along swell." Rob chuckled, pointing out across the crowded room to the edge of the dance floor.

I followed the direction of his finger and sure enough, there was my cousin, dancing with my friend. As I watched, he leant down and said something into her ear. She turned her head to look at him and laughed, smiling wide.

"Good. Maybe she'll settle down a little."

"Not likely." Chris chuckled. "The Roxanne I remember is a firecracker. Tonight wasn't the first time she smacked me."

We all laughed and I nodded my head knowingly.

"She's always been like that. She's very independent."

I sighed, stretching before grabbing my jacket off the back of my chair.

"I think I'll head back to the hotel for the night."

"You're just going to leave her?" Rob asked, sounding concerned.

"She's a big girl. Besides, it's Jeremy. I know where he sleeps." I grinned, slipping into my jacket and heading for the door, Rob and Chris following.

ROXANNE'S POV

"You're a much better dancer than your cousin." He murmured, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him.

I turned my head so I could see him out of the corner of my eye and laughed loudly.

"Good to know!" I giggled, increasing the twisting of my hips as the music sped up.

I felt him stiffen again and smirked to myself, knowing that he was enjoying this much more than he was letting on.

JEREMY'S POV

"I think they must have gone home for the night." I sighed when we returned to the table we had all been seated around and found if vacant except for our jackets and her bag.

"Thas a'right. Jusss you'n me." She slurred, plopping down at the table and reaching for the last drink she had left half drank on the table.

I got it before she could and slid it out of her reach.

"I think you've had enough." I scolded, chuckling when she slumped back into her chair and pouted up at me. "Why don't I call you a cab?"

"I can walk. S'not far." She mumbled, stumbling up and clumsily pulling on her jacket.

I guess it just hadn't caught up to her yet.

"I don't think you're walking anywhere." I said, pulling her arm up over my shoulder and supporting her across the club and out the front door.

Once outside, I hailed a cab and after asking her three times, Roxanne finally got her address right. The driver glared at us from the rear view mirror and I shot him an apologetic look.

It really was a short distance to her apartment building, which I was surprised to find was rather ritzy. I paid the cab driver and told him to keep the change before pulling Roxanne unceremoniously from the car. I half carried her to the door of the building, which was being held open by a doorman in a uniform. He smiled at me knowingly as we crossed the threshold.

"I'm afraid the elevator is out of service, sir." He said, nodding towards the stairs.

"Shit. What floor does she live on?"

"I live in the penthouse." Roxanne giggled from my side, tottering off towards the stairs. "I'm important. I get the penthouse."

I followed her across the lobby, arms outstretched in case she fell. She stumbled on the first step and I quickly grabbed her arm, keeping her from falling on her face.

"Ok, up you get." I grunted, kneeling down and throwing her over my shoulder. "To the top floor we go."

Fifteen minutes and twenty three flights of stairs later, I finally set Roxanne down on her feet and reached into her bag, fishing out a set of keys. I tried three of them before finding the right one and helping her through the door, kicking it closed behind me.

Roxanne fell face first onto the large couch and was out before she even hit the upholstery.

I peered around the large room, noticing that one wall of the room was made up of floor to ceiling windows that led out to a balcony overlooking the city. I made my way down the dark hallway to my left, peering into rooms until I found the bathroom.

After taking a piss I opened her medicine cabinet and found a bottle of Advil. I took out three for good measure before going to her marble and stainless steel kitchen. I found a glass in a cabinet and filled it with water. I put the glass and the Advil on the coffee table and made for the door.

"Don go!" Roxanne groaned, flopping onto her back on the couch. "Please."

I sighed and took off my jacket, hanging it by the door as I kicked off my shoes. I sat down on the other end of the sectional and chuckled when I realized Roxanne was ready asleep again, her mouth agape and snoring softly.

Her phone had fallen out of her bag when she fell onto the couch and now it was on the floor by my feet. I picked it up and unlocked it. I programmed my number into her contacts and sent myself a message so I would have hers. I put the phone on the coffee table and set back on the couch, watching Roxanne.

I couldn't stop thinking about that tattoo. I had a feeling that this rough around the edges woman wasn't as tough as she seemed.