Wasted Words: Inspired by Jane Austen's Emma (The Austens Book 1)

by Staci Hart

  Tyler smiled. “Jack’s the best at what he does, so I don’t doubt it will be.”

  “Maybe I can smooth things over with my boss on the matter too. Team effort, right?” Adrienne took a sip of her drink. “Cam, I’m so jealous that you have such a cool job. This is way better than sitting in some office in Midtown every day in heels and a pencil skirt.”

  “Amen,” I said with a laugh, raising my glass as I looked Adrienne over again. She was drop-dead gorgeous — she could have easily been a model. Her face was perfect, from the structure itself to her impeccable makeup, her dark hair spilling out in waves from under her Catwoman mask. And of all the women in Wasted Words dressed in spandex, she was the only one who didn’t have an errant lump or bump — just the soft, sultry curve of her breasts to her hips.

  She was beautiful. Successful. Nice. And she was into Tyler.

  He was into her too.

  They’d be an ideal match.

  I smiled at her, playing it all out in my head. In part, it made me feel a little sick, sort of like looking down off the top of the Empire State Building, dizzying vertigo. I didn’t quite understand it, though I recognized it distantly as some form of jealousy — not the ragey type, just more of a … longing, I guess you could say. But I shook my head, stepped back from the ledge, and put on my matchmaker hat. Because Tyler deserved the absolute best, and this chick was the cream of the crop.

  “I’m so glad you came tonight, Adrienne.” And I meant that in more ways than one.

  She smiled again. Seriously, she and Tyler could have been in an ad for teeth whitening or orthodontics. “Me too,” she said. “This place is great. It’s got everything a girl needs — booze, books, and boys.” She glanced at Tyler, and he leaned in closer.

  I felt a little like puking. Must have been that taco truck.

  Ruby rushed over, bright red hair shining. “Hey, Cam. I just caught some people making out in Erotica.”

  I laughed. “Well, at least they picked the right aisle. Did you break them up? I don’t want to damage books out of inventory on account of bodily fluids.”

  “Yeah, I had Sammy bust them up, but the guy’s pretty wasted and kind of causing a scene. What should we do?”

  I turned back to the group. “You’ll have to excuse me. Enjoy yourselves, okay? I’ll try to make it back over when I can.”

  They all waved, even Bayleigh, that traitor, and I followed Ruby through the crowd to deal with the horny drunks. That was my first hint that the night had been a success, and in more than one way.

  Cam

  From that point, it was one thing after another — the ice machine lost its shit and shot ice all over the back room. By the time we got that cleaned up, it was time for another round of games, and this time I split everyone up by neighborhood. Tyler and Adrienne ended up together, which was just another reason why they’d be great together. If she’d lived in Brooklyn, the whole operation would have been doomed.

  We found more people getting fresh in the darker corners of the bookstore, and I started working out numbers to have an extra man on staff to patrol for lovebirds and general mischief.

  The bar was still full when we shut it down and kicked everyone out, and the costumed singles left in a stream, some holding hands or hanging on to each other, hopping in cabs together.

  Like I said, it was a success.

  Tyler walked Sarah and Adrienne out, and I watched them through the double glass doors with a weird smile on my face. At least it felt weird, like my cheeks pinched in a way that didn’t feel quite natural. All this time, I’d had my eyes peeled for a match for Tyler, and now I found one. I just couldn’t figure out why I felt woozy about it. My mind wandered again to the taco truck. It had to be that, because the alternative was just too awkward to fathom.

  I didn’t have feelings for Tyler. The thought was absolutely absurd.

  Tyler put the girls in a cab, opening and holding the door for them, waving goodbye as they pulled away from the curb.

  As he walked in, his hands were in his pockets, and he was smiling, lips together, a simple, content expression.

  “That was great, Cam. You did it again — another successful singles night.”

  I smiled back, taking his arm as he approached and we walked toward the bar. He smelled like leather, and I tried not to inhale super loud like a creep. “Hopefully they’ll all be this good.”

  He looked down at me. “Oh, they will be. This is your zone, your field, your house. I don’t doubt the next one will be even better.”

  I sighed, relieved. “Thanks, Tyler.”

  He squeezed my hand between his bicep and ribs, still smiling. “Anytime.”

  Bayleigh and Greg were already breaking down the bar, pulling the mats and storing the garnishes, wiping the surfaces and washing glasses. They ran their checkouts, and I went through their slips to make sure everything matched up as Sammy locked up and canvassed the store to make sure there weren’t any lingerers. Before long, we were set to go, everyone except Bayleigh and Greg.

  Greg had pulled off his mask, and his hair was mussed, pushed in every direction, his cheeks a little flushed. I caught Bayleigh looking at him more than a few times, her cheeks flushed too, though not from her costume.

  “You guys are good to close up, right?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we’ve got it, Cam,” Greg said.

  I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Bayleigh, you have someone coming to walk you home?”

  “Oh, I was just going to take a cab,” she said with a hint of uncertainty.

  Greg turned to her. “You live close, right? I can walk you home.”

  “Oh, would you?” she asked, relieved. “That would be great.”

  “Yeah, no problem.” He smiled at me. “I’ll make sure she gets home okay.”

  I smiled back, completely satisfied at the prospect of them walking home together. “I know you will. Thanks, you two. You killed it tonight.”

  “So did you,” Bayleigh said, waving goodbye as she smiled too, trying to suppress her excitement. “Have a good night!”

  “You guys too,” I called over my shoulder as Tyler and I headed out.

  Once we were outside, Tyler chuckled. “Man, you’re good, you know that? How much of that did you set up?” Tyler stepped to the curb once we were outside and threw his hand up to hail a cab.

  I shrugged. “Well, I got them in matching costumes, so that was the big win.” I didn’t mention the losses. “I probably would have left any of our bartenders to close up alone, especially Greg. But him walking Bayleigh home? Totally unplanned.”

  A cab pulled up, and he opened the door for me. “Lucky break.”

  “You’re telling me,” I said as I slipped in.

  He climbed in next to me, propping his shield against the seat in front of him, and told the cabbie our address.

  “So, you and Adrienne really hit it off, huh?” I asked as I pulled off my wig and slipped my fingers into my hair to shake it out with a sigh.

  He nodded, watching me. “She’s kind of a legend. Jack’s been working with her for a few years, ever since she was promoted. He’s got nothing but good things to say.”

  I folded the fake hair in my lap and combed through it with my fingers, still feeling strange. “I’ve known Sarah for a long time. She told me all about Adrienne, and she really lived up to the hype. I have a good feeling about her.”

  He smiled over at me. “I’m glad you like her.”

  “I’m glad you like her too.” I smiled back, wondering how deeply I meant that.

  He gave me a look, topped off by a smirk. “Listen, don’t go getting any ideas, trying to set us up, okay? I can seal the deal without your help.”

  I put up my hands innocently. “Of course you can. No one would ever deny your ability to close. Because you are a closer.” I pointed at him for impact.

  “That’s right,” he said with a nod. “I’m a closer, and I know how to ask out pretty girls in Catwoman costumes.”


  I raised a brow. “And did you, Mister Closer-man?”

  He smirked. “Nah.”

  I pouted, though I breathed a little easier. “Well, why not?”

  Tyler looked out the window. “I dunno. I just didn’t feel it, you know?”

  “Well, maybe you just need more time to hang out. Like, with no pressure. I bet I can get Sarah to bring her to singles night next week.”

  “I bet you could too. We’ll see, Cam. I’ll be in touch with her about work all week.”

  “Did you at least get her number?” I asked, resolved, already making plans to text Sarah and get Adrienne in the bar again.

  “I already have her number.”

  I made a don’t be a smartass, Tyler face, and he laughed, pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket.

  “She gave this to me before she got in the cab.”

  I slapped him on the arm. “Well, look at you, player.”

  He chuckled and slipped the paper into his coat pocket. “How about you? Find any guys you had a hankering for?”

  I snorted. “A hankering. Like a steak.”

  “Sure, why not,” he said and shrugged. “Man-steak. A beef slab.”

  “More like pot roast. No, I was too busy to really look for myself, but I’m all right. I don’t feel the urge to date anyone these days.”

  “I know what you mean. I keep telling myself it’s just because I got myself hurt, but it’s been a year. It can’t be that. I’m just … I don’t know. Content, I guess. I wouldn’t turn down the prospect, if it arose. But I’m not trying to hunt it down, if that makes sense.”

  “Perfect sense. Everyone wants companionship, you know? But I don’t want to waste my time. I’m twenty-five and I already feel like I’m too old for that shit.”

  He chuckled. “So true.”

  The cab pulled up in front of our building, and Tyler paid him. I’d learned long ago not to protest — it was a fight I’d lose. He’d forced my feminist soul into accepting his chivalry. What made my feminist soul really twitchy was that I enjoyed it.

  “So, what’d you think of Martin?” he asked as we made our way inside.

  “He’s nice,” was all I could muster.

  He looked down at me, raising a brow. “That bad?”

  I shrugged. “He’d make a perfectly wonderful boyfriend for somebody.”

  “But not Bayleigh.” We climbed the stairs.

  “Bayleigh’s got a thing for Greg.”

  “Really?” he asked. “Because she sure did spend a lot of time talking to Martin tonight.”

  “She was just working the crowd, that’s all. It’s part of her job, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m just saying that it seemed to me there was a little something there, that’s all.”

  “Maybe for him,” I pressed.

  “Maybe,” he answered noncommittally and let it go.

  We fell into content silence, quiet and weary from the long night, dreading the morning that would inevitably come too soon. At least I’d get to sleep in a little, which reminded me to set the coffee for him so he’d still have it when he woke.

  He unlocked the door, held it open for me, locked it safely behind me. We moved through the apartment in automatic motions — first changing, then into the bathroom to brush our teeth, side by side, taking turns at the sink. I set up the coffee for the next morning as he turned off the lights. And we parted ways outside my door with smiles and promises to see each other in the morning.

  But once my door was closed and I lay in bed, my thoughts teetered between plotting how to get Tyler and Adrienne together, all while fighting the urge to keep them apart, which was silly. Because they could be perfect for each other. And Tyler … he deserved someone like her.

  7

  GATEKEEPER MEETS KEYMASTER

  Tyler

  THE NEXT MORNING WAS RUSHED after I hit my snooze a few too many times. I wondered as I poured the coffee Cam set up for me whether or not I was getting too old to try to work a full day on only five hours of sleep, which I thought was a really old thing to wonder.

  I hurried to work in a haze, and when I got there, Cathy already had a stack of messages for me to sort through, including calling Jack. None of the work I had looked easy — nearly all of them were going to be demanding answers I didn’t have.

  But God bless Cathy. She kept my coffee fresh and full all day, managed the flood of calls and emails, kept the deluge just outside my office door.

  Jack had gotten Pharaoh out of jail, and he’d issued a statement looking sorry and penitent. He’d received a six-game suspension with no pay and said during that time, he’d be going to rehab for his drinking. He said it was a mistake, one he’d learned from, one that had humbled him.

  I, for one, knew that was utter bullshit. Pharaoh was out for himself first and foremost — he’d proven time and time again, on the field and off, that he didn’t really care. But this move was probably going to save him his career, and for that, I was grateful he’d rolled over. I just hoped he calmed down for good. Knowing Jack, he’d sat the kid down and told him exactly how it was. That we would terminate his contract if he didn’t get it together. That if he didn’t leave the aggression on the field, he was going to send his career down the drain. It was up to him to keep himself in check.

  And today, it was up to me to save his sponsorships.

  It was another long day, full of tense phone calls and emails, messages with Jack, organizing everything to sustain the weekend. By the end of it all, I was exhausted and ready for a drink, finding comfort in the knowledge that I’d be seeing Cam, looking forward to telling her about how the day had been. I was packing up when Cathy buzzed me.

  “I’ve got a call from Adrienne Christie on line one.”

  “Thanks, Cathy.” I picked up the phone and hit the line, wondering if it was a business or personal call. “Good afternoon, Ms. Christie.”

  “Same to you, Mr. Knight,” she said, the all-business Adrienne back in action, though she sounded softer than yesterday. “I just wanted to give you a quick call to touch base about Pharaoh. I saw the press release today. So far, the news cycle has been receptive to his announcement about rehab, so congratulations on that. If you’d asked me twenty-four hours ago if Jack could have turned this around, I probably would have laughed.”

  “I probably would have too,” I said with a smile and leaned back in my seat.

  “Well, I’m glad the heat’s been turned down a little, even though it’s still the top discussion point on every sports media outlet. At least now they’re all talking about how heartfelt he is and wishing him luck in rehab instead of his general misbehavior in the NFL.”

  “Anything to detract from that,” I joked.

  She chuckled. “Jack did well, and so did you. Barring any unforeseen circumstance, his sponsorship should be safe.”

  “That’s a relief. Thank you, Adrienne.”

  “You’re welcome.” She paused for a second. “Listen, Tyler — I know it’s unprofessional to ask you this, but I was going to meet some friends for happy hour tonight and wanted to know if you were free.”

  I blinked, surprised. But before I even considered accepting, a response left my mouth. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’m meeting Cam at Wasted Words tonight. Raincheck?”

  “Yeah, of course,” she said, though she didn’t fully cover her disappointment. “Sure. I’m sorry to put you on the spot like that.”

  “You didn’t,” I lied, turning the conversation back to work. “I’ll give you a call on Monday and we can see how the weekend treated Pharaoh.”

  “Absolutely. And maybe I can cash that raincheck in soon.”

  “Just say the word.”

  “All right.” I could hear her smiling. “Thanks, Tyler.”

  “Have a great weekend, Adrienne.”

  I hung the phone on the cradle and stared at it.

  I’d just been asked out by a beautiful, successful woman who I got along well with, someone whose compan
y I enjoyed, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d opted to go to a book bar to hang out with my roommate.

  Maybe it was because I hadn’t dated in a while. Maybe I was gun-shy. Off the horse too long. But deep down I knew it was more than that.

  On paper, Adrienne and I made sense. There was no reason to refuse her, and even Cam was on board. I thought back to last night and the conversation she and I had about Adrienne. Cam was insistent and determined — I could see it in her eyes, she wanted me to date Adrienne. She saw it as a good match, and maybe it was, but I wasn’t really interested.

  I’d rather be a bar fly alone.

  No, not alone. With Cam.

  My soul staggered as I sat at my desk in my office, damp palms on the cool surface.

  Cam and Adrienne were nothing alike, and I realized that was part of the reason I found myself seeking Cam’s company. She was my friend, the person who I told almost everything. I found comfort in her, the familiarity, the realness of her. I knew her, and she knew me, the real me, and that was all she ever asked for.

  It was in the mundane moments that I noticed her. It was watching her read, curled up on the couch with her face reflecting whatever emotion she read. It was seeing that same face all scrunched up, tongue poking from between her rosy lips as she kicked my ass at Smash Brothers. The disappointment in her big, brown eyes when another book failed to capture my attention.

  But she wasn’t interested. I mean, sometimes she looked at me like those sides of beef we’d joked about last night, but I didn’t think anything of it. She was attracted to me too, but that was it. Just physical.

  Wasn’t it?

  I didn’t have a shot with her — I wasn’t her type. She’d said it a thousand times. But that didn’t stop us from being friends. It didn’t stop me from wanting to hang out with her. It didn’t stop me from watching her make coffee, or stretch in those little shorts she wore to bed, all the while thinking about her body against mine.

  I wondered, and not for the first time, if she would ever date me. If she’d let me kiss her. If she’d kiss me back.

  No, I told myself.