Shatter (Club Grit Trilogy)

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Book: Shatter (Club Grit Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Brooke Jaxsen
hand, and I inhaled, the rich floral scent sweet.
    “The pleasure was all mine,” I demurred. I knew how to play Lawrence’s game all too well, but I don’t know why he’d want to play it with me. It was like Bobby Fisher playing a game against the best college chess champion at UCBH: while I was better than my fellow students at playing the social system, Lawrence was on a whole different level.
    “If you’re not too busy, I was wondering if you’d like to join me again,” he said with a small smile. His chin was clean shaven tonight and I smelled not aftershave, but cologne, the smell of bergamot and lavender entering me as I rose and he placed his free hand on the small of my back, his other still holding mine, as we went upstairs.
    Again, the beauties three opened the dark sheer curtains for us.
    Again, there was a bed.
    But this time, the room was lit by a soft white light I was surprised wasn’t very visible from the outside of the strange room overlooking Club Grit. The glow was a yellowish ivory, soft but present, and by its light, I could see Lawrence’s features more clearly. His jawline was like a snow covered fjord at night, dark but with smatterings of silver, which glistened, even in this low light. His strong nose and brow betrayed any assumptions I could make about his age, and his hair was the salt and pepper coloration of his stubble. Like last night, he was in expensive clothes, but tonight, his suit was a dark emerald green, the same deep hue as the handle of the silver slotted spoon he was handing me.
    “You have had absinthe before, yes?” he asked, motioning to a cart being wheeled in by one of the three mysterious ladies. It was covered with a dark veil, which, when drawn away, shimmered a jeweled green in the light, and exposed a carafe of iced water, a small silver bowl of sugar cubes, and two crystal glasses. There was a bottle with an art deco style label and a green fairy, the liquid inside as green as the glass of any beer bottle.
    “No, I haven’t,” I said, honestly. I’d read about it but never actually partaken in the pleasure.
    “You’re in for a treat,” he said, pulling the cart closer to us. “Let me serve you.”
    He didn’t wait for my answer, instead, pouring a decent amount of liquid emerald into my glass, before placing his slotted spoon atop the opening. “Here, do the same with yours,” he commanded, and I obeyed. That’s what had been happening so far: he’d order, I’d listen, I’d perform. I didn’t usually submit to anyone, but Lawrence? He had this allure about him that I’d say was inexplicable, but it wasn’t. It was all too explainable and maybe, to you? It seems obvious, but to me, back then, it wasn’t. If I could tell my past self about Lawrence’s appeal, draw it out and explain it to myself, maybe we never would have gotten this far.
    We definitely wouldn’t have gone any farther.
    “You’re not on a diet, right?” he joked, but I didn’t get it until he laughed.
    “N-no,” I lied. In truth, I was always on a diet, but I didn’t want to offend him.
    “Good,” he said, placing one of the sugar cubes on each of our slotted spoons, before putting a glass under the carafe’s spigot, letting the water drip over the sugar, melting it and letting it run through the slotted spoon in a slurry, until it hit the absinthe, where it clouded the liquid faster than my eyes could process. What was once a glassy forest green was now a cloudy mint shade, and after a while, the glass was a bit less than full but now filled with a mixture of sugar, absinthe, and iced water. He did the same to the second glass, and then, he lifted it up. I grabbed at mine quickly, almost spilling it, and raised mine to meet his, our glasses kissing, even though we hadn’t yet.
    I sipped at the liquid and was surprised at its strong taste. Even with the sugar and water, the strong herbal, almost medicinal taste of the absinthe came through. It tasted the way that
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