Page 4 of Wardrobe Malfunction

His stare is making me uncomfortable. It’s the disappointment in his eyes that bothers me the most.

In a business filled with sharks, Jack isn’t one. He’s loyal. To me. His wife. His kids.

For all these years, I’ve stayed clean in a city full of dirt with his help and because of my family back home.

Well, I was clean. Now, I’m a helluva lot dirty.

My eyes flit to the girls as they quickly dress.

Shame spreads through my chest.

This isn’t me…

At least, it wasn’t me.

Sure, I’ve done one-night stands in the past. I’ve slept with women with no promise of more.

But this—the endless nights of drinking and fucking, and then rinse and repeat—isn’t me.

But, right now, it’s the only thing that makes me feel better.

Well, for a time anyway.

Shame has me getting to my feet and snapping out, “Jesus, Jack, stop fucking looking at me like that.” I walk my bare ass over to the closet where I pull out a pair of black lounge pants and slip them on.

“Like what? Like you’re a mess?” Jack states, like he doesn’t care that other people are in this room.

I can just see the headline now…

VAUGHN’S MANAGER CALLS HIM “A MESS” IN HEATED ARGUMENT

As I grit my teeth, my angry eyes quickly flit to the girls leaving my room. Neither looks like they heard or care about what Jack said, but you can never be too sure in this town.

My eyes meet with the redhead’s. She gives me a smile that says she wants a repeat and drops a slip of paper on the dresser before she leaves with the brunette in tow.

Sorry, love, no repeats.

Jack walks over and shuts the door behind them.

“Since when do you mouth off in front of people?” I fire at Jack.

He’s the one who always tells me to be careful what I say and to whom.

“Since you clearly don’t give a shit about your career anymore.”

“I care.”

He laughs. “Then, sort your shit out.”

“Give me a fucking break.”

“That’s all I’ve done for the last few months. That’s all anyone’s done. We get that you’re hurting. What they did…it was shit. But shit happens, and life moves on. You move on, Vaughn.”

“I’m moving on,” I growl.

“Yeah, looks like it.” He gives a pointed look at the empty box of condoms on my nightstand and the bottles of Jack littered around the room.

I feel ashamed again. I shouldn’t. I’m a grown fucking man, but I know this isn’t me. It isn’t what I’m about.