The Divorcee Murder Club

Uno ~ 1

"I can't have kids," she says, and my head reels back. Jesus. What an opener. "My ex wants kids, but unfortunately, my insides are messed up, so he thought it'd be grand to fuck his twenty-two-year-old secretary. Gringos, am I right?"

"I'm so sorry, Angie." Gwen cuts through our circle of chairs, crouches, and places a hand on her knee. "We will help you through this difficult time, and if you'd like, I can sign you up for solo sessions too."

"I prefer groups."

"As you wish." Gwen bows her head, then whispers, "Oh, and, please refrain from using racial slurs. Some might take offense to the word, gringo."

Angie's honey-brown eyes drift down to the hand on her knee, and Gwen withdraws it. "I can call my deadbeat ex whatever I want."

Gwen gives a half-smile and stands, but she keeps her shoulders square while going back to her seat. "Would anyone else like to share?" Her dark eyes shift towards me. "Miguel?"

And holy shit, Angie is looking at me too.

"Uh..." I clear my throat and, uncross my legs, lean forward. "Well, I, uh, my wife left me for her best friend, who is a woman."

Angie snorts, so I cut my eyes to her, and she shrugs.

"I'm so sorry, Miguel. Tell us, how can we help you cope?" Gwen asks as if she and the entire group don’t already know my situation.  Mindy reaches over and rubs my back. Too bad it's not my dick.

Jesus. What has gotten into me tonight?

"Just let it out." She smiles at me with her plump lips stretching across that beautiful brown skin of hers. Mindy is like a Bollywood goddess with silky black hair and round hazel eyes. The saddest part is she doesn't realize it. I guess that's what happens when your spouse is a gaslighting shithead.

"Thanks, Mins." I flash her a smile. "Yeah, so, that's why I'm here. My lawyer thought it would be a good idea since I have a lot of pent-up anger. She doesn't think my part-time night job as a Doorman is helping my case."

"Why's that?" Evan asks.

"Because bouncing assholes through glass doors supposedly means I'm violent and that my wife—correction—ex-wife can prove she needs a restraining order," I growl but then soften my tone. "I'm sorry, man."

"It's fine, Miguel. After all, this is a safe space for venting. Right, everyone?" Gwen smiles, and the others mutter a reply between chewing the insides of their cheeks like zombies.

"So you're a Bouncer?"

Holy shit. Did Angie just ask me that? I flick my gaze towards her, and sure enough, she's looking right at me. The incandescent lights above us flicker as if I haven't told Gwen multiple times that she needs to hire a damn electrician. However, tonight I’m not too mad at it because it’s highlighting the rain droplets freckling Angie’s chest as she sizes up my biceps. And what a lovely chest it is. It’s practically bursting from her lacey black top like a can of biscuits.

"Yeah."

"If I hire you to fuck up my ex, would you?"

"Uh..." My eyes go from her to Gwen, who claps her hands together.

"Ok, I think that's the end of tonight's session," she announces with nervous laughter that's followed by a procession of folding chairs squeaking as everyone makes their hasty exit. "Remember that next week we're meeting on Saturday at Dolores park for a barbecue!"

As I stand, my entire body is aware of Angie's electrifying presence, and my arm hairs become erect in the process. I seriously need to get laid. It's been too long, and beating my meat doesn't deliver the same release as being dick-deep in a woman. Shrugging into my leather jacket, I glance her way, and her eyes are already on me like an owl observing a rodent it wants to snatch. Before I can even gather the balls to say what's on my mind, she beats me to it.

"Wanna go for a drink?"

"Name the place." I pop my jacket collar like James Dean.

Angie seems like a no-strings-attached kind of woman who wouldn't mind a quick wham-bam, which is exactly what I need to get over this dry spell. But then Mindy taps my shoulder, batting her long, dark lashes, and I'm reminded there are women worth waiting for. Why does she have to be so damn gorgeous and sweet?

"Some of us are heading over to Pi for dessert. Wanna come?" Her eyes slide over to Angie. "You can too."

"My dessert consists of sugar muddled in bitters and drenched in whiskey. But thanks, kitten," she replies.

"Oh, ok." Mindy shifts back to me.

"It's been a rough week, and I need a beer," I say.

"Ok, sure." Her brows mash together, but then she leans up on tiptoes and presses a kiss to my cheek. "Maybe next time."

"Definitely. See you at the gym tomorrow?"

"Yes." She nods, but I know I've disappointed her, so I need to make it right.

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Um... Depends on where I get it."

"What do you get from Pete's?"

"I like their caramel latte."

"Then tomorrow, I'll have the biggest caramel latte waiting for you. With lots of whip." That earns me a smile.

"Alright, well, I should get going." She squeezes my hand, and hot damn if Mindy isn't marking her territory as she gives Angie a once-over before walking away.

"Poor little kitten..." Angie tuts. "She'll get over it."

"So, where to?"

"A little place just a few blocks from here. Ever been to Royal Cuckoo?"

"Last week, actually."

"With Mins?" She cocks a brow.

"Yeah, and a few others from this group." I point to the exit and step in that direction. "We going, or?"

"Watch the tone, or I won't bang your brains out later."

She tosses the hair off her shoulder before brushing past me, not even waiting for a reply, and like a puppy, I follow with my tongue hanging out.

A choice I'll regret sometime in the immediate future.