by A. Lynn
“It’s Reagan,” I correct the asshole with a bite in my voice, earning a glare from Ryan. I am all out of fucks to give right now, so I glare right back.
“I thought you might want some time with your little friend here before I came to get you.” And now I immediately hate him.
Little friend? Who says that? Fuck you, douche! “Are you leaving, Ryan? I thought you guys were going to stay here?”
“We were, but I changed my mind,” Douche talks over her while looking at me like I’m a piece of shit he happened to step on.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Yet, I answered anyway,” he says.
“How considerate of you. But I am pretty sure—,” I start to say before Ryan interrupts me.
“REAGAN! Stop it,” she screeches like I was the only one being an asshole.
“What?” I give her a very pointed look and say, “Not going to introduce us, Ry?”
“Of course I am. Cooper this is Reagan Marks, Reagan this is Cooper Jameson," she says with stars in her eyes as she looks up at him, which makes me roll mine. Where the hell did my biffle go? I don't know who the person in front of me is.
“Pleasure, I’m sure,” he says without even looking at me. “Ready, baby?”
“Yeah,” she gushes.
“Ryan?”
“Yeah, Rea?”
“Don’t forget we have a pancake date with Jordan in the morning.”
“I won’t,” she says with wide eyes as she turns to follow that jackass out of the bar.
I drop my head into my hands and wonder what the fuck just happened? Why did she look afraid when I mentioned Jordan? That was not my friend. And I seriously hope she doesn’t think that I didn’t notice all she talked about is her happiness. It’s not about us right now. We have a son to think about. And that jackass will never be a part of my family.
“Looks like you could use a drink,” says a deep voice as I hear a chair sliding out.
The face that accompanies that sexy as fuck deep voice—a voice that’s melting panties all over the place—manages to suck me in once again. “Fuuuuck… I’m pretty sure that I just got pregnant,” comes from my mouth before my no-filter-having-ass can shut the fuck up. That’s a thing, right? Ocular conception? You heard it here first! Warn your friends, ladies.
“Sorry, what was that?” I’m pretty sure the smug bastard heard me, judging by the smirk on his face. And what a beautiful face it is, but his eyes are something else. They are this vibrant jade green with a honey brown ring at his pupil. His olive complexion and deep brown hair speak to Native American or Spanish descent. He is quite possibly, the sexiest man I have ever seen.
After God knows how long I say, “I definitely could, that's for sure." He slides a drink over to me as he takes a pull from his own. “Thanks, but that’s okay, I’ll go get one from Harley. I’ll be right back.”
He reaches out and covers my wrist saying, “That’s who made this one.”
I look down at his hand and let my eyes crawl over the length of his heavily tattooed arm. On his left forearm, he has an intricate webbing of rose stems done in black and gray with beautifully placed blood-red petals. Moving up to the elbow he has piles of skulls set to make an antique frame with the most beautiful Day of the Dead woman taking up his bicep.
I’m steadily trying to calm my heart before he sees it through my dress, but the pulsing coming from where we are skin to skin is intense, almost to the point of pain. Surely he feels that, too, right? I shake my head to clear the fog this man is causing with just a look and a small touch.
"No offense, I'm sure you are a really nice guy, but accepting an open drink from a stranger—or any man, really—that’s like lesson number one in Women’s Survival 101.”
He chuckles and says, “Take that class, did you?”
“Oh, I majored in it.”
“That’s a relief,” he says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He pushes a few buttons and says, “Harley, babe, would you mind bringing me another beer and Amaretto sour for Reagan over here, please?”
When he ends the call I ask, “How do you know what I’m drinking? How do you know my name?”
“I asked Harley when I was getting us drinks,” he shrugs.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to know,” he says like it’s obvious.
“Why didn’t you just ask me? You don’t seem like the shy type, considering you just walked up and sat down,” I point out.
“You’re right, I’m not shy, but I was already at the bar getting a drink. Harley was right there noticing me noticing you, so I asked her,” he says slowly like he thinks I can’t keep up.
I just roll my eyes and say, “It seems you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I do not know yours.”
“I’m Crow.”
“That your real name?”
“No, it’s my road name,” he says causing me to look away from that face and notice the black leather vest that he is wearing. His vest has four patches on the front—two on one side and two on the other. The top patch on the left breast bone says his name and the one directly under it says ‘Road Captain 1’. On the right breast bone is an image of a white skull that is missing the mandible and wearing a crown; it also appears to be sitting in a fire. Directly below it says ‘Unsaintly Kings’.
“Here you go guys,” Harley interrupts.
“Thanks, babe,” he says again, causing me to look up and see him watching me watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.
I bring my drink to my lips and ask, “Are the two of you close?”
“Who?” He’s looking at me like I confused him.
With a little green peeking through I say, “You and Harley. Babe.”
“You could say that,” he says. “Do you want to go somewhere a little quieter?”
Letting my irritation show I say, “Are you serious? I just met you like five minutes ago.”
“And?”
“And I don’t know you.”
“What does that have to do with anything? Isn’t that the point of going somewhere quieter?”
“Look, I’m sure you have all the pretty girls throwing themselves at you, and I’m flattered, but no.”
He laughs like my ass is over here telling jokes or some shit. “I meant back to the VIP section we have. It’s my baby sister’s birthday and I’m supposed to be there. I was asking if you would like to join me, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He’s the one who goes to stand up and I who covers his hand to stop him from leaving this time.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sticking my foot in it all over the place. I’m still pretty irritated at my biffle and it is fucking with my demeanor. I swear I am not usually like this.”
“One,” he says, “Don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal. Friends suck sometimes. The invitation is still open. And two, what the fuck if a biffle?”
“I would love to accept the invitation,” I say with a chuckle. “And a biffle is the sound that BFFL would make if it was one word. It’s what we have called each other since we were kids.”
“Ah, I see,” he says, turning his hand over and linking our fingers so he can pull me from the table.
“You do? Nobody else does, like ever.”
“Not even a little,” he says with a smile, making me laugh as we make our way to the VIP section. There are not any tables with his party so we go to the area next to it and sit at a table in the front.
“So, you’re a King, huh? What’s that like?”
“I am. My Pop has been a member since before I was born. It’s all I really know, but it's pretty great… just one great big family."
“That sounds nice. It’s only the three of us for a while now.”
“Us?”
“Yes, me and my roommate and our son.”
“Roommate?”
“Ryan. We have a three-year-old, Jordan."
“Are you and Ryan together?”
“A
bsolutely not,” I say. “We aren’t into each other like that. We just co-parent.”
“Good, I don’t want any competit—” he starts.
“There you are, Crow. I was wondering where you ran off to,” I hear over my shoulder.
I turn around as he says, “I wasn’t gone that long.” My heart stops in my chest when they meet the dark hair and green eyes of the girl who informed me that my last living relative had died. That I was an orphan. In my head, I know she wasn't the one who took that from me, she was just the messenger. "Skylar," I whisper.
“Reagan, hi,” she says while staring at me like she can’t believe it either.
“You know each other?” Crow says.
“I’m sorry, Crow, I got to go,” I say as I shoot to my feet. I need to get out of here. The last thing I want is to break into tears in front of him. Nobody needs to see that; ugly crier over here.
“What? Why?” I hear him ask but I am already walking away. “Reagan, WAIT! Reagan!”
I rush out of the bar and around the corner of the building to hail a cab. In what can only be described as a silver lining among the shitty night I’ve had, it only takes a minute for one to see me and stop. I hop in and close the door before I see Crow rush out of the door and scan the street… but he didn’t see me. Thank God for tinted windows.
“Well, we meet again. How lucky is that…” the cabby states.
I glance away from Crow only to notice that the driver is the same one from earlier tonight. “I suppose.”
“Where to now?”
“Back over to the house on Mooresville, please,” I say leaning back against the seat and closing my eyes.
“Sure thing,” he says. “Did you have a good time? Is your friend not coming?”
“Uh, no,” I say hoping that he would shut up talking to me.
“She met someone, did she? No lucky guy for you tonight?”
“Dude, that’s not an appropriate question. You are making me all kinds of uncomfortable. It’s been a long night, can we not talk, please?”
“Sure,” he says in a clipped voice.
“Thanks.”
“Yep.”
When I finally make it into the house, I go to the kitchen to make myself another Amaretto sour before heading to my bedroom to decompress after the cluster-fuck that befell my celebration. The high of my night was Crow, I hope that isn’t the last time I see him.
I set my alarm and down my drink then settle in to go to sleep. I’m fairly certain that I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Around three in the afternoon, I’m laying on the couch cuddled up with J watching The Incredibles for the hundredth time when the front door opens to Ryan giggling and saying, “Okay, baby, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
Before I can stop him, Jordan hops off the couch and dashes down the hallway, and yells, "Moma! You's home!"
“Jordan, go back to Rea.”
“Kiss-kiss, Moma!”
“Please go, Jordan.”
“I’s misseded you’s.”
“GO!” She yells. I spring to my feet and charge into the hall to see Ryan in the douche’s arms, and Jordan stands there confused with tears running down his cheeks.
I squat down in front of him and pull him into my arms. His death grip on my neck breaks my heart and makes me see red. So I pick him up and take him to get a Popsicle and set him down on the couch to finish his movie. I dry his cheeks and give him kisses before I say, “I’m going to go talk to Moma for a minute. Will you please sit here and eat your Popsicle while you watch the movie?”
“I’s stay, Wea,” he nods.
“Good boy. When I am done talking to her we can go and get some dinner. Okay, baby?”
“Okay,” he whispers.
I give him another kiss before I push to my feet. When I make it to the front door I am boiling and seeing her still attached to this asshole’s face isn’t helping. I harshly rap her on the shoulder as a precursor to the anger she will see on my face when she turns around. “We need to talk. Now.”
“As you can see,” the asshole says, “She’s busy.”
“You,” I point at him, “can shut the fuck up talking to me.”
“Reagan!” Ryan screeches.
“And,” I pause, “you should go ahead and get the fuck out of my house, too.”
“What the hell is your problem, Reagan?” This bitch, like her ass doesn’t know. “Just go, baby, I’m fine here. I’ll see you soon,” she says kissing him again before shutting the door.
“What the hell has gotten into you, Reagan?”
"Funny, that is the same thing I was going to say to you. Maybe we should take this outside, J doesn’t need to listen to us fight.”
“Fine, whatever,” she huffs. “Just say whatever it is that you need to say. I don’t have a whole lot of time; I need to get ready.”
“Where were you this morning? I called you a dozen times. Did you forget about our date with Jordan?”
“No, I didn’t forget!” This bitch snapped at me like I’m the one in the wrong here. “My phone must have died so my alarm couldn’t go off.”
“Sure it did. If it died then how come every time I called you it rang over and over before going to voicemail? What were you doing that was so important that you flaked on a date with our son?”
She starts pacing, it’s almost like she can’t sit still.
“Is that all? Can I go get ready now?”
“No! I want to know who the fuck you thought you were talking to when you yelled at a three-year-old who was only trying to give you love?"
“I asked him nicely twice and he didn’t listen,” she says while making eye contact with me.
“Ryan, he’s three. All he knows is that he missed you and wanted to be with you.”
“I was busy.”
“The fuck you say?”
“I said I was busy.”
“No, I heard what the fuck you said.”
“Why ask then?”
“I was giving you a chance to rethink what the fuck you just said to me. You were ‘busy’?”
“Yeah, Reagan, is that alright with you?”
I am almost stunned silent. She is acting like I’m the one being a cunt instead of her. “Fuck you, Ryan. We aren’t allowed to be busy when it comes to him.”
“I’m just... so tired.”
“Tired of what? And if you are so tired then why the fuck are you about to go out with that asshole again?”
“No,” she says while making a circle with her hands, “Of this.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means… I don’t know what it means.”
“You need to figure your shit out, Ryan. I won’t let you hurt him.”
“I know and I’m sorry. Do you really think that I’m trying to hurt him?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to do,” I scoff. “I don’t know the person who is standing in front of me right now. But what I do know, I better not see that look on his face again behind something that you did or said to him.”
“I’ll do better.”
“You fucking better because if you talk to my baby like that again—friend or not—I will beat the brakes off you. This is your first and last warning. Don’t believe me? Just try me.”
“Alright, Rea! Jesus!”
“I don’t want that asshole in my house again.”
“What is your issue with Cooper?”
“He’s a douche and for some unknown reason to me, you allow him to railroad you.”
“He doesn’t railroad me,” she glares, "he just knows what's best for me!"
“Does he? Really? How can a work associate you only just started dating—that you’ve only known for a couple of months—know what's best for you? Please, enlighten me."
“I didn’t say that I have only known him for two months. I said he has only been working at the bank for two months.”
“I call bullshit… you and I have been
friends since we were eight years old, we basically know all the same people. Never in my life have I ever heard you say the name “Cooper” or “Jameson” in any variation.”
“We don’t know all the same people. I have a life outside of this house.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“He said you would do this, you know?”
“Do what?”
“Try to come between us. He said that you are just jealous and lonely. That it's the reason you were so adamant about us moving in with you. And you wanting to adopt Jordan.”
“Are you high? Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth? Does any of the shit you’re spewing make any sense? Does that even sound like me?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so but it seems like it right now.”
“I wanted you both to move in here because the house was paid off and it beat the alternative. And if I remember rightly, you were the one to bring up the idea of me adopting Jordan. Did you want me to say no? It’s not like you had so many appealing options in front of you. God forbid I do whatever I could to make your load a little lighter, even to the disappointment of my only living relative,” I say through a lump in my throat. “It's sad that you can't see that he is manipulating you into believing that I am the one manipulating you. You see the irony, don’t you? That the douche has walked into your life and, in a matter of months, has turned it upside down.”
“I just want to be happy, too. Why are you the only one that is allowed?”
“You are, but until last night, I thought you were.”
“I did, too. But I just don’t think that I am.”
“Fine, do what the fuck you want, just leave J and me out of it. I've done everything in my power to help you every step of the way and if you are going to shit all over that, so be it. I hope he's worth it because I'm done."
On the way out to get some dinner with Jordan, I pause at the mouth of Ryan’s room and debating on trying to talk to her again. Her door is partially open and allows me to see in and see her sitting at her vanity with her head hanging and her shoulders slumped. She is sniffling and I hate it. I take a couple of steps into her room; however, she must not hear me because she doesn't shift position in the slightest, but the sniffling continues to cut me deep. Even though we fought, she is still my biffle and I don't want her to be upset.
