Picture Us (Turn it Up Book 3)

by Natalie Parker

  Then again, he’s one smooth motherfucker and a seasoned ladies’ man that’s bound to have a few tricks up his sleeve. That easily could’ve been one of them.

  But still, it felt good to feel his want for me and have it feel like it was on more than one level; like he wanted the closeness along with the arousal. Uggghhh… as nice as that thought it is, I can’t let myself fall for it. I did the right thing just now. I know I fell for him a little that night. If we were to do that again, I might fall all the way.

  It took everything I had to squeak out that I’d see him around sometime, pick up my things and turn for the door. God only knows if and when I’ll get to feel that way again. But… I can only fall into a player’s trap if I’m stupid enough to let myself.

  Over the next couple of weeks, I let my memory of our night together fade into the background, welcoming the little flashes that bring warmth to my belly and then dismissing them just as quickly. I do photo sessions and put together the packages that my customers order. I send Cliff the photos I think work best for what he and Tyler have in mind for the bar’s website, and get an email back from him thanking me profusely, accompanied by a deposit for my time in my PayPal account. I go to the dance studio, catch up with Mayzie when she calls, and I go to bed each night. All while pushing Tyler out of my head fifty times a day.

  I’m toast. Screwed. Fucked. Done for.

  I have not so much as looked at another girl since my night with Annie three weeks ago, and my dick is furious. I’m used to getting laid at least once a week. Not by jerking off; but actually getting laid. He used to enjoy the variety of willing females I’d go to bed with. Now he just sits down there in my pants with his proverbial arms crossed, pissed off that the only attention he’s getting is my hand when I think about Annie late at night. But he can’t pretend it’s entirely my fault. He doesn’t even get hard at the thought of someone other than her anymore.

  Even now, as I’m behind the bar during Happy Hour on Friday evening, my mind is swirling in its own little galaxy. I’m half doing inventory and half helping the bartenders through the rush as I try to decide what to do with my night. I’m not interested in going out and trolling for ass anymore, which leaves me either going to the gym or Netflix and chilling myself at home in my otherwise empty studio apartment. Either prospect is just depressing. And fuck, I’ve lost count of Coors again. I look down to reevaluate the number on my clipboard only to hear a familiar, booming voice break through my concentration.

  “Yo, Ty!” My best friend, Juan, sidles up to the last stool at the end of the bar where I’m standing. This is a nice surprise and a welcome distraction from my obsession with a certain blonde with glittering eyes.

  “What’s up, man?” I offer him a smile as I tuck my clipboard at my side to reach over the bar and slap hands with him.

  “Ah, same ol’,” he answers me, just a hint of a Latin accent in his voice.

  “You’re not on duty tonight?” I ask as I hand a scrambling Forrest the Bacardi.

  “No!” He states, triumphantly. “First Friday night off in weeks!” Juan is a cop on graveyard shift, usually working form ten at night until eight in the morning. “What time are you done here? We have to go out,” he says, crossing his arms on the bar and shaking his head like he absolutely cannot entertain any other prospect. Dammit. For the first time in my life, I just don’t feel like going out and living it up surrounded by women, which I know is what he has in mind. His high-stress job with demanding hours doesn’t allow for much of a social life, so he gets what he can, when he can.

  “I don’t know, I’m not really up for the bar scene tonight. Why don’t we just keep it low key? Get some steaks? Play some cards? We could call up some other guys?” I offer, doing my best to come off as my normal self. He’s not biting.

  “What?” he draws his eyebrows together and tilts his head back in befuddlement. The next thing I know, he’s standing on the stool legs and leaning over the bar to put his hand on my forehead. “Something’s wrong man,” he says, as I swat his hand away.

  “What?” I ask, defensively. “I’m in a bar day in and day out. Is it so crazy I don’t want to spend my evening in another bar?”

  “Did you not hear me when I said it was my first Friday night off in forever? What makes you think I’d want to spend it with a bunch of dudes?” He says it like I should be ashamed for even suggesting it. “Besides,” he changes his tone to one I know well. The one he uses when he’s trying to talk me into something. He puts just a hint of excitement and reason into it. “I already got something lined up for us tonight. I met this cute barista when I got off shift yesterday morning. She agreed to meet up tonight, but she’s bringing her friend, man. I said we’d meet them at Black Fire.”

  “Fuck. No.” I shake my head and fill a shaker full of ice before passing it to Forrest. “You know I can’t stand that place, even when I’m not tired of the bar scene.” The Black Fire is where you go when you feel like waiting in line around the block for overpriced drinks.

  “What the hell do you want me to do?” He whips out his phone while I step to the side a little so that Colton, a young, overzealous busser, can come and clear the dirty glasses and empties from under the bar. “Tell them to come here?”

  “Absolutely fucking not,” I chastise with my hand held out in protest.

  “Oh, that’s right, you don’t allow any of your chicas to come to your place of employment. Or hit on them here - keep the place drama free and all that. Forgot rules one and two. So sorry,” he says sarcastically as he smacks his forehead with his palm.

  “That’s true. It is forbidden,” I affirm as Colton gives me a sheepish look and makes off with his full bus tub. “But uh, to be honest man,” I get serious and move in closer to the two feet of bar that separates us so that I can lower my voice. “I actually broke that rule recently… both of them.” When I saw Annie that night, I didn’t give a shit. I had to go out with her. I wanted to talk and hang out with her again so badly, and yeah, some part of me thought maybe if we had sex, I’d get her out of my system. It didn’t work. In fact, I want nothing more than to see her again. And again.

  “You what?!” Juan exclaims at my revelation, making me lean back slightly. He looks around briefly to see who caught his little outburst before leaning in. “Are you serious, man? You really picked up a chick here? You’ve never done that - not since you became manager. You said you were dead-set on keeping it professional and keeping your…” he holds his hands out and his head wobbles as he searches for the right words, “… extracurriculars away from it.”

  “I know,” I concede as I rest my hands on the bar and lean on them. “I just, I already sort of knew her…”

  Juan’s mouth drops open, not in disbelief, but more in wonder. “Who is it?” he asks more quietly. He’s done busting my ass and has adopted a more attentive demeanor.

  “You know Jack Krasinski’s wife, Mayzie? It’s her best friend, Annie. I met her three years ago when she and Mayzie would come around to see Turn it Up.” I go for broke and tell Juan everything about my night with Annie. Well, not every detail, but the gist. With each word out of my mouth, my feelings for her seem to feel more and more real, like I’m making her exist to someone besides just myself.

  “You fell asleep?!” he freaks out again as I get towards the end of my tale.

  “Yeah,” I confirm as I lean on my elbow and rub the bridge of my nose. “She had to wake me up to kick me out. Well, she didn’t really kick me out, she was nice about it. But seriously, I don’t know what to do with this.”

  “As in… feelings?” he asks. I look up at him but don’t say anything. I’m scared shitless to say the ‘f’ word out loud. I don’t know what this is, to be honest. There have been women in the past that I’ve had a great enough time with that I’ve gone back for seconds, sure. But none that have made me lose interest in all others.

  “Okay Ty, I can see you’re struggling internally so I’m going to help you out he
re. Say it with me; you just let your top teeth barely make contact with your bottom lip. Come on, f-f-f-eeee-ll-ing-s! Ah!” He flinches back when I reach over the bar to smack him.

  “Hey cutie,” Forrest’s voice is all of a sudden very audible beside me as he leans on the bar to address a redheaded customer. “Did you sit in some sugar, ‘cause you’ve got a sweet little -,”

  “Forrest!” I bark, and I immediately have my hand on his chest, pushing him towards the shelves of spirits, before lowering my voice. “What have I told you about the flirting? Subtle and respectful. I don’t want any sexual harassment complaints, and I sure as hell don’t want to fire one of my lead bartenders.” He swallows as I say all this from between my teeth. “Are we clear?” I ask him.

  “Yes. Sorry, perfectly clear. It won’t happen again, Tyler.” He’s holding his hands up in surrender but keeping his cool, probably for the benefit of the girl he was just trying to hit on, very horribly. I take my hand from his chest and approach the girl. “I apologize for my employee here, Miss. He’s very sorry too, and he’s going to buy you your first drink,” I announce as I slap my hand on Forrest’s back a little too hard.

  My idiot best friend is laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, his head tossed back, not actually making any sound.

  “What?” I humor him, rolling my eyes as I lean on the bar again.

  “That used to be you, Papi!” he says, as he tries to calm himself.

  “Fuck off.”

  “I’m serious! Sure, it’s been a few years, but once upon a time …” he trails off, grinning and shaking his head. He’s not lying. There was a time I was a completely shameless flirt, and okay, fine, I’m still that guy in a way, but I’ve changed. I’m a man now, and fiercely professional. I just continue to stand there at let the asshole yuck it up and get it out of his system.

  “Alright,” he continues after composing himself. “Back to the subject at hand. Are you seeing her? Does she have f-f-feelings for you too?”

  “I haven’t seen her since she photographed the bar,” I admit quietly. I tell him how I wanted to keep in touch but Annie just wanted to let it lay, accept it for the epic night it was and move on; that she was afraid of getting attached and making our connection… friendship… whatever you want to call it, complicated. Which is smart and sensible on her part, but it doesn’t change the way I’ve been feeling the last three weeks.

  “Juan,” I say addressing him seriously as I lean in and lower my voice again. He follows my lead and gives me his ‘seriously listening’ face as he leans in too. “It was the best.”

  His eyebrows go up. “The best? As in… the best sex you’ve ever had?”

  “Yes,” I answer him as seriously as I can so that he can grasp the gravity of what I’m saying.

  “You mean of all the women you’ve gone home with, this…” he holds his hand out for me to finish the thought.

  “Leaves them all in the dust. Blows them all away.” I’ve had great sex; amazing sex. But now, none of it can compare.

  “You know man, I hear that’s what happens when there are, say it with me now...”

  “Fine! Feelings! I have feelings! Happy now?” I brace myself on the bar, waiting for lightning to strike.

  “Yes!” he pumps his fist like he just won a scratch ticket. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he muses with a smug-ass smile. I roll my eyes and shake my head, letting him have his moment. I get busy for a few moments, helping Forrest and the other two bartenders when the waitresses hit them with a bunch of drink orders. I get them through the wave and then make my way back over to Juan.

  “So, you’re not seeing her?” he says it more like a statement that he’s trying to confirm. I shake my head. “Then you can come out with me and be my wingman, bro.”

  “Ugghhh…” I grunt out, white knuckling the edge of the bar.

  “Come on, for me?” He pleads. “You may be feeling ready to hang it up but I’m not, and this is my first chance in weeks to go out and shake things up. Don’t leave me to fend for myself.” I look around like someone might be close enough to bail me out. “Come onnn…” he starts to sound like a preteen that just lost his video game privileges.

  “I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling it, man.” I really am sorry too. He’s my buddy and I know how badly he wants to get out and let loose, but I just cannot get myself in the headspace required for this.

  “Look, just come along and keep her friend company so I can put in some one-on-one time. You don’t have to flirt, you don’t have to even act like you’re interested,” he’s gesturing wildly with his hands and I can see the desperation lurking just underneath all his reasoning. “Just be nice. There’s no harm in that. Just have a conversation. You can do that, right?” he closes out his arguments with a pleading look on his face.

  I let out a deep sigh that feels like a windstorm releasing from my chest.

  “Alright,” I grumble, as Juan pumps his fist in victory. “Fine…”

  So, this was a mistake. I’m nursing a six-dollar beer as the cute but annoying blonde in front of me babbles on about… well I’m not quite sure what. It’s too fucking loud in here to really understand anything she’s saying, and I don’t want to give her the wrong impression by leaning in too close to hear her. I’m trying like hell to be polite, but it’s a serious challenge being in a club I can’t stand while keeping company with a woman who isn’t Annie.

  As this chick yammers on about her hair (the only word I’ve caught clearly), I draw into myself, trying to make sense of what I’m feeling and why I could possibly be feeling it. I give the woman a few subtle nods, trying to act interested while I allow myself to get lost in my own self-analysis. Back when Annie would come around The Cedar with Mayzie, she refused to fall for my lines and my games, leaving me no choice but to talk to her, see her and like her as a person. Sassy, snarky, but sweet. I knew she was something. As much as I wanted her to give in to me and see how great of a time we could have between the sheets, I remember having a hint of a feeling in my gut, like just maybe it was for the best that she didn’t. I didn’t know why, nor did I bother to explore it. I just let the whole idea fade off as time passed. Turn it Up got big, leaving Jack and Mayzie no reason to be at The Cedar anymore, and by association, neither did Annie. I moved on, content with my way of life and almost forgetting Annie Phillips. Almost.

  Until the night she walked back into my bar and… my life?

  “Alright Ladies,” the deep, bold voice of Juan jolts me from own little space-out. I startle again when he claps his hand on my shoulder as he moves to stand by my chair. “We’ve had a wonderful time, but my friend and I have to get going.” The blonde I was supposed to be entertaining stops talking but leaves her mouth open while she looks between the two of us and her friend that Juan has been trying to conquer.

  “You see, Tyler here is dealing with some deep emotional shit…” He’s got to be fucking kidding me with this right now, yet I’m thankful for the out so I let him continue on as I slowly close my eyes and clench my jaw. “We thought maybe a night out would snap him out of it,” he continues, “but clearly he needs to deal with his feelings in a controlled environment by confiding his best friend and idol.” He pats his chest to indicate himself while resting his elbow on my shoulder. “So being the genuine, sensitive, and best friend that I am, I’m going to reluctantly take my leave of your beautiful presence to help him work out his emotions.” I want to hug him and throttle him right now. But the dark-haired woman he’s been hitting on all evening seems to be buying it as she gives him an adoring look and mouths ‘aww’ as she looks to her friend who smiles tightly in response, but still seems disappointed in the turn of events.

  After promising to call his date tomorrow, we bid them goodnight and fall in step with each other as we make our way to the exit.

  “I guess I should thank you,” I say, indignant but thankful, as we walk out into the crisp night air and turn to head down the street towards m
y car.

  “Please,” he huffs beside me. “If I had to look over at your miserable mug one more time I was going to reach over and bitch-slap you. You looked like you were in your own personal hell the whole time. I couldn’t take it anymore,” he exclaims dramatically as we approach my car. “You really are messed up over this chick.” I roll my eyes as I unlock the doors and open the driver’s side. “We’re going to go hang out somewhere low key and talk your ass through it,” he says before climbing in. “But I am not braiding your hair while we do it,” he finishes as I turn the engine over.

  8

  I am dragging ass for some reason. I’m in the dance studio for the first time in a week because I haven’t felt like coming. I don’t know what the hell that’s about, but I’ve been lacking some serious energy. Today I dragged myself in, thinking it was just stress from work weighing me down and if I just got back into moving again, I’d feel better and get back in the groove. I am just not feeling it though.

  I’m pushing through the jazz number Emma is teaching and it’s getting down to the end of the hour when we decide to run through the whole piece. We get to a part where we do a spin, stop, and spin again in the opposite direction when the studio turns sideways. The mirrored wall and the barre shift, and the hardwood floor comes up to meet me.

  Oww.

  Still dizzy, I sit up and put my head in my hands, trying to stop the merry-go-round. The voices surrounding me sound like they’re coming from a fishbowl for a moment before everything snaps back into place and my senses are clear again.