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.
“I’m waiting for someone.” I crossed my legs to avoid touching his knees.
“He should be here by now. Shouldn’t let a beautiful woman wait.” He raised an eyebrow, testing. Oh, god! Stop flirting already.
I wanted to roll my eyes, instead, I smiled. “What made you think I am waiting for a... man?”
His eyes glinted wickedly. “As gorgeous as you.” He strolled his gaze from my face to my chest, to my exposed thighs. “It would
be a waste.”
“You’re maybe right, but I am really waiting for someone.”
“At least let me entertain you while you’re waiting for his grand entrance.” Back off, already! Your cufflinks are too shiny for my
taste. He extended his hand. “Asher.” Oh, come on! Aren’t you a little persistent?
I reluctantly raised my hand to shake his.
“Megan.”
Startled, I choked on my heart and my pulse pounded in my ears. My head snapped to the strong and deep voice behind the bar.

Forrest had his dark eyes narrowed at me so intense that made me gulp, with dark thick brows squished together. His straight
nose was flaring, his jaw was locked tight that made his jawline sharper.
“Il est tellement chaud.” I thought it was my voice.
His gaze 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 had my body tense and my vagina shamelessly
reacted. Oops! I shouldn’t have thought of that. Too late, Megan.
“Forrest.” I coughed his name.
He took a few moments to somewhat assess me before he talked again. “You okay?”
I nodded. Suddenly, it came to my senses that I’d been staring at him for a couple of seconds and not saying anything. It was
always this way.
“Yeah.” My word came unsure.
“Can I get you another drink?” He looked down at my almost empty glass.
My hand turned shaky as I pushed the glass toward him. “Yes, please.”
A man on my left side cleared his throat. I completely forgot I was about to shake his hand. “So, you’re Megan.”
I glanced at him. “He’s here.”
“Wait a sec. You’re dating that bartender?” Did I say anything about dating? He gestured his head to the magnificent back of
Forrest who was wearing a black shirt, sleeves were rolled up his elbows, showing off his flames tattooed that I found it intriguing
and sexy.
I preferred a clean guy, but it just looked damn good on him. Sometimes I wondered if he had a few more tattoos underneath the
dark shirt he was wearing. Did his abs or deep V covered with tattoos as well or did he have a piercing on his flagpole? Bad bad
girl, Meggie.
I leisurely watched his biceps bulged as he busied himself mixing. “Nope.”
“Your brother then?”

I snapped 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.
“Back off, dude. You’re not her type.” Forrest’s voice was deep and harsh, but I could feel that was intentional.
“You’re one to talk.”
“What do you think?”
My mouth slacked open and parched because Forrest 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 spend his time talking to someone like this pompous dumbass beside me.
Forrest always intrigued us. I just 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 warmth and
desire, but I had to keep it to myself because he was a friend in my circles. But boy, that’s a damn shame because he looks so
good.
“You’re a bartender, dude. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. I am just asking a beautiful lady over here—”
“Just like you asked another beautiful lady yesterday?”
“What is your problem?”
“My problem? Didn’t she tell you she was waiting for someone?” Oh, he heard me?
My eyes ping-ponged between them while I was trying to process that they were arguing because of me, yet, I couldn’t tell them
to stop.
Clearly, Forrest pissed off Asher. The dude’s face was flaming red and stoned hard. “I can make a complaint against your
rudeness behavior and make sure you can’t find another job even sweeping dog shits in the street.”
“And I am so shaking,” Forrest answered confidently.
“Asshole!” Asher barked harshly.
“You’re not the first time to call me that.” He grabbed the empty glass on my left and a few dollar bills.

“Forrest, what are you doing?” I asked him, finally finding my voice to speak.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled under his breath, then pinned his gaze at me.
“You could be in trouble.”
“Who gives a damn? What are you doing here? Alone.”
“I’m a customer.” I shrugged.
Forrest shifted his gaze to my back, and I noticed Asher left his stool.
“This is for you, asshole.” He threw the bills toward the counter then walked away.
Forrest picked them up from the floor, then Asher’s empty glass.
I waited until he would talk to me again, but he kept himself busy with the other customers and never came back to me as if I
didn’t exist anymore, and it pissed me off. He passed by me when he had to take orders. The rest of the evening remained
uneventful.
Feeling insignificant, I drained my drink empty. After a few deep breaths, I pulled myself together, took a few bills from my clutch
and placed it on the counter.
What happened to me? I wasn’t this attention seeker. I could get attention from any man I wanted. I had a fair share, but I knew
that they only wanted one thing from me, and that was what I hated myself for. Or perhaps, I wanted something more. Something
else. Or more so, someone. I shook the images of my past life as they passed by in a slow blur and walked out of the club,
hoping not to return.
I stayed inside my car for a while, resting my head against the headrest. I couldn’t let my failures consumed me. I needed to find
a job, moved on, and forgot those damages happened in my past.
I couldn’t depend on my friends every time I had a problem—we weren’t like before anymore. They had priorities than to listen to
my sad life stories that no one could fix it other than me.
People thought I had a perfect life because what they saw in me was the flirty and funny Megan, and not the damaged woman
behind these walls I built years ago.

I started my car when my eyes started to blur. So much for an emotionally unavailable bitch! A knock had my head snapped to
my window.
“Megan?”
Crap!