by Cassie Wild
“Hi,” she said with an easy smile. “I’m Tish, and I’m taking over for Sam. Can I get you another round of drinks? An appetizer, maybe?”
A whoop of frenzied cheers rose up from the crowd inside the restaurant just then. Dominick joined in, his eyes on the nearest big screen TV. “Yeah!” he shouted, his fist pumping the air.
Tish, apparently used to it, smiled apologetically and waited until the noise faded back to a dull roar before repeating the question.
“I’ll take another one of these.” I tapped my bottle. “Some cheese fries…and maybe your phone number.” I said the last with a slow smile. It worked half the time.
Without blinking, she made a few rapid notes on the tablet she carried, then gave me a sweet smile. “I’m afraid I can’t help with the last one, but I’ll get right on the first two. What about you guys?”
Next to me, Cedric chuckled. Dominick acted completely unaware as he put in his order, although judging by the gleam in his eye, he wasn’t going to just let it pass.
Cedric had apparently decided against making a try for her, just putting in an order for a burger and another beer.
As she walked off, Dominick said, “I told you she was too smart for you, Sean.”
I flipped him off.
Three beers later, I tried one last time. My head was pounding, I was tired and ready to go home, but I definitely wasn’t interested in sleeping alone if I didn’t have to.
More often than not, I either stayed up and watched TV until my eyelids were too heavy, or I had a joint until I thought maybe I was relaxed enough to go without dreaming.
But lately, the dreams were getting worse, and I wanted something else to silence the noise in my head.
Tish put the ticket down in front of us, along with my credit card. “Don’t suppose you had second thoughts and put your number down on there, did you, sugar?”
“I knew I’d forgotten something.” She picked up the pen and scrawled something down, then turned the ticket toward me.
I groaned as I read the sorry scrawled under a big, happy smiley face.
“Figures,” I muttered as she walked away. Still, I gave her a big tip and rose. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom before I leave.”
As I was making my way back to our table, a cute brunette bumped into me.
Normally, I avoided brunettes these days. Especially tall, leggy ones with long hair. They reminded me too much of Isabel. The girl was Isabel’s exact opposite, save for the darkness of her hair. Isabel’s skin had been like gold-dusted ivory. This girl had the kind of pale skin that would burn to a crisp if she spent more than five minutes in the sun. Her lush curves all but spilled out of the short mini dress. The dark hair was cropped close and spiked up, leaving her heart-shaped face on display as she tipped her head back to smile at me.
“Well, hello there,” she said with a giggle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t step on your toes, did I?”
“No.”
She rested a hand on my arm. “You look really familiar.”
“Do I?”
As she sidled closer, the warmth of her body reached out to mine, and the interest in her eyes was impossible to miss.
Hell. She wasn’t the one I’d been hoping to spend the night with, but she was cute, and at least I wouldn’t have to be alone.
Eight
Tish
“That man is a dog.”
I jerked my head around, pretending to be focused on the task at hand instead of watching the sexy jerk who’d been flirting with me all night.
“What?”
The bartender, Ayiesha, gave me a knowing grin. She braced her elbows on the bar and leaned forward. Her black-and-white striped shirt still looked pristine, even though she’d been here for several hours longer than I had, and her makeup was flawless.
She’d been working on teaching me how to mix up basic drinks after someone mentioned to her that I was a quick learner. She told me it was helpful when the servers could mix up a simple rum-and-coke. According to her, it made life easier all around. It made sense to me, and I was always open to learning new things.
I wasn’t too certain I liked that grin, though. “What?” I asked again, feeling blood rush up to color my cheeks. I hadn’t been that obvious when I checked him out, had I?
Although, seriously, who could blame me? He had a face that was model beautiful, saved from being too perfect by a scar on his chin and a faint crook to his nose, making me think it had been broken once. His cheekbones were chiseled and high, like some Greek sculpture had taken his time with crafting each one. And his eyes. Wow.
“That boy was flirting with you all night, girl. I ain’t the only one who saw.” She shook her head so that her thick dreadlocks, secured in a ponytail at her crown, bounced around. “We were taking bets on whether or not you’d fall for his tricks.”
“I said you would.”
I glanced over as a new server joined the conversation. It was Kari, the woman who’d trained me. She looked me up and down, eyes narrowed. “But I’m betting I’m wrong. He’s leaving with that girl instead of waiting for you. What, didn’t he ask for your phone number?”
My face went hot, and I knew from past experience that my cheeks were close to flaming red. “Yeah, he asked.” Squirming uncomfortably now, I added, “Twice. Why?”
“Twice?” Ayiesha laughed, throwing her head back so that the rich, full sound bounced around the room. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good. But you told him no, both times?”
Shifting around, I jerked up a shoulder. “Well, yeah. I don’t know the guy.”
Kari huffed out a sigh and pulled a wad of cash from her pocket, slamming a five on the bar top. “You win.” She rolled her eyes at the bartender, who was still chuckling. “Again. I’ll go make sure the others know to pay up.”
“You guys were betting on me?” I gaped as Ayiesha collected the bill. It disappeared into her pocket.
“Absolutely.” She beamed at me. “It was a safe bet, in my opinion. You’ve had a bunch of guys in here flirting with you. That sweet, innocent Midwestern vibe of yours hooks them fast. But, like I said, sweet and innocent as you may be, you’re too smart to drop your panties just because a guy has a pretty face.”
My cheeks heated even more. I wasn’t use to this kind of talk. “Um. Thanks, I guess. I need to get these drinks out.”
“Wait.” Ayiesha put a hand on my lower arm. When I hesitated, she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “All joking aside…stay away from that guy. I know he seems nice enough, but trouble follows him everywhere he goes. You’re a nice girl. You don’t need to get mixed up with that shit. Okay?”
I studied Ayiesha and saw nothing but sincerity in her eyes.
“I’m not looking to hook up with anybody right now,” I told her. “I’m just trying to get by.”
It was almost two when I let myself into my little apartment.
It wasn’t in the area I’d hoped to live when I’d moved to Philadelphia back in April, but I’d had to make the choice between splurging or conserving the money left over from the life insurance policies my parents had taken out, and the bookstore’s insurance. I’d only gotten a modest amount for the sale of my parents’ home, but that, combined with the insurance policies, meant I wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, as long as I was cautious.
Since I’d always been cautious, I’d taken the conservative route and settled for a smaller, simpler apartment in a quiet, safe area in Philadelphia that wasn’t anywhere close to the more historical part of town.
I’d come to like the little place I’d found, as well as the neighborhood. I could take the subway to get around the city and visit all the historical sites I’d read about for so long. At almost any time of day, I could go out and find some new kind of cuisine I’d never had. And the bookstores…
I’d avoided the antique stores in the city, but there were so many other ones. There were more stores within a few miles of my place than there were in the ent
ire town of Eufaula. I’d been blown away by how many bookstores there had been in Oklahoma City when I’d first started college, but Philadelphia made that look like nothing.
It had taken me a while to start visiting them, but once I talked myself into it, I was glad I’d gone. I stuck to the new bookstores. Antique bookstores and used bookstores smelled too similar, and I’d forever associate the smell of old books with my parents.
I had a new book on the small table next to the little loft seat I’d bought at a yard sale back in the spring. Seeing it, I had to debate on whether I had the energy for a few pages and…of course, I did. I might fall asleep out here on the couch again, but if I read until I passed out from exhaustion, what did it matter?
But first, I wanted to change out of my clothes. I smelled like chicken wings, French fries, and onion rings. It had taken me a while to figure out how to get that smell out of my hair, and the right products to get it out of my clothes, but I’d finally succeeded. I wasn’t about to make my couch and bed smell like Stripes, the place where I’d been working since the end of October.
This was my third job since moving out East, and I still wasn’t sure if I was going to stick with it.
For the most part, the people who came into the sports bar were easy to get along with. I worked the evening shift, and the crowd was typically loud and boisterous, more men than women, although it wasn’t just a guy’s place. People came to cheer on their favorite sports teams and grab a drink after work and…flirt with the servers.
I shoved that thought, and the image of the cute guy from earlier, out of my head.
He wasn’t the first one who’d flirted with me since I’d started, and he wouldn’t be the last.
But for some reason, he stuck out in my mind, and I didn’t know why.
There was something in his eyes, I decided.
In the bathroom, I stripped out of my uniform and dumped it into the hamper I kept just for work clothes. After letting the water warm up, I climbed into the shower and set about scrubbing my hair, leaving the shampoo in to help wash the scent of fried food out while I continued to think about the guy.
His eyes were sad. Beautiful…a strange shade of blue that almost looked purple. But sad.
I’d always been a sucker for that sort of thing. If I saw somebody unhappy, I wanted to hug them and make them feel better.
For the past year, though, I’d been too busy working on holding myself together and didn’t much have the energy to worry about anybody else, except in the abstract.
The cynical part of me that had seemed to have been born in the days and weeks after Wylie and I broke up stirred. She whispered to me in a caustic voice, He’s probably playing you. You’re too easy to read for some of these people.
I wanted to shrug it off, pretend like that couldn’t be the case.
But I didn’t entirely believe that myself.
Instead, I decided to ignore my inner, cynical bitch in favor of wine and a book.
That was a more pleasant option anyway.
Nine
Sean
Her name was Chrissie.
She had a way of kissing that made me think she was already picturing eating me alive. Since I was in the mood to forget every damn thing, I just sat back and went along for the ride.
It was one hell of a ride too.
The problems didn’t start until later—much later.
I probably managed to get a few hours of sleep in before the nightmares started. Even when they did, I knew I was dreaming. I always knew when I was dreaming anymore.
The last time I’d seen Isabel alive, it had been as she looked at me through the windshield and smiled at me. The beautiful smile that had caught my attention from the start, back when we’d met in New York.
But she didn’t smile at me in the dreams.
This time, as she started to walk away, she looked back at me and half turned, walking backward with her hand outstretched. “Stop me,” she said. “Help me, Sean. Don’t let me die. I don’t want to die!”
I tried to reach her, stretching out my hand, but she was too far away, and my feet wouldn’t move. It was like they’d been set in cement, and I couldn’t do anything but struggle futilely, straining to reach just a little bit farther.
Then she was way too far out of reach and standing by the car.
Tears filled her eyes. “So, you’re just going to stand there?” she asked, her voice breaking. “You’re just going to let me die?”
“Don’t get in the car,” I begged her.
“It won’t matter.” She shook her head, the tears an endless fall down her face. Then she was inside, and the explosion hit.
I could move again, but instead of being able to rush toward the car, I was thrown back.
But I wasn’t deafened like I had been during the explosion, and I wasn’t knocked half-senseless for the first sixty seconds either. She was screaming. I could hear her.
Scrabbling to my feet, I ran for the car only to have Cormac grab me around the waist from behind and hurl me down, grinning at me as he loomed over me. Before I could get up, he hunkered down over me, one knee on either side of my torso as he began to slam one merciless fist after another into my face. “It’s your fucking fault, you sorry sack of shit,” he said in a cheerful voice. “She’s dead because of you. They all are.”
He finally got up. Because it was a dream, there wasn’t really any pain, just that sense of helplessness. As I turned to see what he was staring at, dread gathered in my gut, and I tried to rip myself out of the dream. But it wasn’t happening.
“They’re all dead, because of you, because of me…we’re all just sorry sacks of shit,” Cormac said, still smiling a little as he stared at the bodies laid out in front of us like they were on display in some creepy show. I saw them, one by one. My father, my brothers…Briar.
I lunged for him.
He actually laughed.
The minute I caught the front of his shirt, I woke up.
Panting, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, disoriented and feeling out of place.
A soft sighing sound came from next to me, and I jerked up warily. A heart-shaped face, framed by short, spiky dark hair lay on the pillow, angled in my direction. Memory crashed back into me and reality snapped into place. Chrissie. She’d all but jumped on me in the elevator, and by the time we got to my condo, I was too focused on sex to think about anything else.
Like the fact that I’d started to sober up, and I either needed a drink or some of the weed I’d picked up.
I hadn’t done either, and now I was dealing with the aftereffects of another lousy dream.
Swearing, I grabbed the pants on the floor and pulled them on. That done, I moved over to the sliding glass doors and stared outside.
Dawn was coming. It was still dark, but the faint lightening of the sky off in the east gave me some idea what time it was.
At least I’d gotten four or five hours of sleep. That was actually decent for me.
My head hurt, a dull ache that made it clear it was probably best that I hadn’t had anything else to drink, even if the effects had started to leave my system by the time we got inside my condo. I pressed my fingertips to the telltale throbbing under my right eyeball, then headed into the kitchen. Over the past ten months, I’d become a veritable student in the art of hangover management. The best thing to do was try to get on top of it.
There was a white bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, and I opened it, shaking a few pills into my hand. There was no cure for hangovers, but if I replenished the electrolytes I’d lost, plus some sugar and fluids, and did something to fight the inflammatory-like effects of the headache, I’d feel better faster. Not good, but better.
I popped the pills into my hand and downed them with one of those sodium-laden vegetable drinks. Under most circumstances, I avoided them like the plague, but I was dying of thirst, and the salty concoction hit my parched throat like a spicy elixir.
After I finished it, I also do
wned two glasses of water.
I’d end up pissing half the fluids out shortly, but within ten or fifteen minutes, the worst of the headache would start to fade.
My stomach growled, so I popped some bread into the toaster. I wanted more, but it would be stupid to eat until the headache eased a bit
The chill in the air finally penetrated the fog of exhaustion, and I rubbed my arms, heading back into the bedroom. Chrissie’s naked, curvy form stood by the window. And she was going through my wallet.
“Drop it,” I told her flatly.
She jerked, clearly caught off guard. The wallet fell from her hands…and so did some cash and a couple of my cards.
“Nice.” I hit the switch on the wall and eyed the loose bills and cards. “Funny, I don’t remember my cards ever coming out so easily.”
“Hey, funny, huh?” She stared at me, cheeks bright red and her eyes glassy. Her eyes darted to the door, and I could all but see her calculating the distance.
She was still naked as a jaybird too.
Somehow, I managed not to snort. “You going to take off out the door naked?”
“You going to call the cops on me?”
“No. Get dressed. Get the fuck out.”
She took one step forward, and something about the way she moved, how she held her hands made me suspicious.
Taking a step toward her, I asked, “What’s in your hand?”
“Nothing.” But she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Maybe I will call the cops,” I decided, lingering near the door long enough to grab the doorknob, slowly starting to close it.
“Fine!” She flung her hand out. A hundred-dollar-bill, one credit card, a picture of Isabel, and my driver’s license fluttered from her fingers. “There, you happy?”
Staring hard at the picture of Isabel, I waited until the roaring in my ears started to ebb, then I looked up at her. “Get the fuck out, and don’t ever let me see you again.”
