Foolproof

by Jennifer Blackwood

  I picked at my nails, biting back my irritation. She brought up Eric for one reason only— her passive-aggressive way of telling me to keep it together or I’d end up like him. She thought I was well on my way. “That’s nice.”

  “Hopefully he’ll be able to hold a job when he gets out. Hasn’t held one since he was eighteen. Drugs do that to you, make you weak.”

  I sighed into the phone. This conversation was a goner. We’d just run in circles until she sufficiently made me feel like dog poop on the bottom of her shoe. I heard Caesar, my mom’s hellion Pomeranian, yip in the background, agreeing with her. Stupid mangy rodent dog. I pulled a Payton and glared at her through the phone. My roommate had the most epic glare I’d ever seen, one that brought her six-foot hunkalicious boyfriend to his knees. “Yep. Good thing I don’t do drugs.”

  I could see her now, pursing her lips, like she always did when I defended myself. My breath rushed out as I gripped the phone until it cut into my fingers, fighting to keep calm. She just wouldn’t drop me going into rehab, even months later.

  It happened so quickly. It started with a few pills to help me stay awake to study for the MCAT, my boss working me too many hours that cut into my study time and, before I knew it, I was willing to shell over my wages from GNC for any pill I could get my hands on just to stay on top of everything. I wanted to tell my mom this, so that she’d understand I wasn’t like Eric but, whenever I tried, she got this glazed-over look like she didn’t care so eventually I stopped.

  “Good thing. Have a good night, sweetie. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  I didn’t know if I would ever get my relationship back, the one where they trusted me, were proud of me, and talked to patients about their daughter who got accepted to med school. Even after six months of being clean, I still hadn’t earned their trust. Maybe I never would.

  Chapter Six

  Ryan

  Dad called me in for the evening shift on Wednesday, one of the busiest nights of the week. Jules flitted around, helping a customer with printers when I strolled through the front entrance. My stomach shot straight toward the ground when she smiled at a customer, her pretty pink lips parting to reveal toothpaste-ad-worthy teeth that lit up her face. Fuck me. I shouldn’t want this girl, but something deep inside me, some primal need shouted Me Ryan, me want hot blonde in green Office Jax shirt.

  After Lex, I sure as hell didn’t want anything serious, but she might be a great distraction for the ache in my chest. Hard to have a hookup when the girl hated my guts, though. The feeling was probably amplified when she apparently heard my conversation with Lex. Peach’s click-clacking heels came to a halt outside the break room and I knew I’d been busted. But she couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation—the one where Lex tried to justify sleeping with Dwayne because I said I didn’t know what I wanted from our future. Lex couldn’t get it through her head that uncertainty didn’t warrant sucking another guy’s cock. A few good nights with Peach and I’d get out of this breakup slump.

  As that stupid article said, I needed to find common ground, because I was determined to find out if Peach’s lip gloss tasted like cherry or strawberry, which I’d spent last night debating. My guess: cherry. I held back a groan as I imagined those glossed lips working their way over skin straight to my—okay, not going there when I was out in the middle of the service floor, these Dockers giving little protection if I started sporting a stiffy.

  I made my way to the back and started packing reams of paper when I noticed a dolly leaning against the far wall. Was that there yesterday? No way in hell I missed that. I had searched for one last night and came up empty, having to make a few dozen trips back and forth carrying stacks of paper.

  Dad strolled in the back as I got the dolly. I pointed to it and said, “Was this here yesterday?”

  He gave his classic fuck you smirk. “The whole time.”

  No way. I know I checked.

  I pointed to it again. “Right here? In this exact spot?”

  He shrugged. “It may have been in the storage room.”

  “And you couldn’t have told me that when my arms were on fire?” I got it, he was pissed, his money was down the shitter, but if he could just cut me a little slack, I’d show him I wasn’t completely inept.

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “Gee, thanks, Dad.” I’d give anything to be out on a boat right now, the wind and water drowning out my thoughts. Ever since Dad signed me up for sailing lessons when I was ten, the ocean had been my go-to place. A few hours on the water calmed my nerves, leveled me out.

  He gave a low chuckle and strode out to the main floor. I clutched the dolly, working to keep my cool. The faster I got out of this store, this town, the better. I’d prove to him I wasn’t a screw-up. Plenty of smart people didn’t make it through college. Granted, most of them were exceptionally gifted in other aspects, but it proved not finishing college wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe the police academy wasn’t my top choice, but I wasn’t going to sit around playing video games in my dad’s basement until I was forty while still trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I was going to make good use of that career book in the meantime but wasn’t holding my breath. Sure, I’d love to find something I was good at, but I needed to quit this overused I don’t know mantra.

  As I pushed the dolly to the front, I took a long look at Peach as she messed with something in the printer section. Her black painted-on pants hugged every curve. She bent over to grab ink out of a display case, her shirt gaping open just enough to see the top of her lacy pink bra, her breasts spilling over the top. I quickly looked away, not wanting to openly check her out at work. As if Dad’s fucked up music station read my mind, Mariah Carey’s “Heartbreaker” boomed through the stereo system. I shuddered at the fact that I knew this song. Over the past six summers, Office Jax played the same loop of songs over and over. And over.

  I stole another glance her way, Jules now standing straight, the outline of the bra pushing against the fabric of her shirt.

  My cock twitched as I imagined her selling ink in just that pink bra and those ridiculously impractical heels. Come fill my ink cartridge, Ryan, she’d whisper in a husky voice.

  I should punch myself. I was clearly deprived if my mind had turned into some cheesy eighties porno.

  She looked up, and I quickly diverted my gaze to the paper display. What was with me? Normally, I was a lot smoother with girls. Peach had caught me checking her out at least twice now. Something about her, though—it’s like I was compelled to stare, which sounded really creepy to admit.

  She walked over to the endcap, sucking in her cheeks and leveling me with a condescending raised brow. Some sick part of me got off on seeing her glare, let me know I was getting under her skin, which was probably the opposite of what I needed to do if I wanted to hook up with her. To my surprise, she smiled back, her cherry-red lips showcasing her Clorox-white teeth. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure what move to make next. I’d severely underestimated her tolerance for assholes if she beat me at my own game.

  Leaning up against the side of the display, she crossed one ankle over the other and studied her nails. “You’re on time today.”

  “Are you the warden in this place now? I thought that circle of hell was reserved for my dad.”

  “A concerned citizen.”

  Common ground. What better topic than my dad?

  “It’s appreciated. Warden Jack is looking for any excuse to add to my life sentence.”

  She giggled, keeping her eyes trained on her nails. The same shade as that damn pink bra. Which I should stop thinking about. “How long are you in town?”

  “Already trying to get rid of me?” I smiled. Damn. I was more than a little rusty if this was my finer attempt at flirting.

  She looked up at me, her crystal blue eyes glistening in the florescent lighting. “Maybe. I’m bad luck. You heard what happened to Mike.”

  I scoffed. “
You give yourself too much credit. That was too many cheeseburgers at In-N- Out.”

  She giggled, the sound a sweet distraction from the mundane paper task. One that I wanted to hear over the intercom rather than the nineties pop station Dad said would feed into customers’ nostalgia, making them buy more products. Listening to Hanson didn’t make me want to buy pens; it made me want to scratch my eyes out with a rusty spoon.

  “Today’s Wednesday. Guess that means it’s asshole day. Give me your best shot.” She scrunched her nose and motioned with her fingers to bring it on.

  “I decided I’d put it on hold for today.”

  She bit her lip and looked down at her shoes.

  Or indefinitely if you keep chewing on your lip like that.

  “Don’t let it bleed into Compliment Thursday.”

  I bumped her in the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Dad walked up beside us, clipboard in hand, looking especially impatient. “Ryan, I’ll need you to continue stocking the endcap. Jules, can you restock ink? We’re low on Epson.”

  Jules straightened and clasped her hands behind her back. “Sure thing.”

  She sauntered to the printer section, her hips swaying a little more than they had the other day. She looked over her shoulder, catching me in the act of blatantly checking her out. I expected a scowl, or at least a dirty look. Instead she smirked, raising her brow, asking a silent like what you see?

  Yes, Peach, I do like what I see—cute and sexy.

  And I was one step closer to tasting those glossy bow lips.

  Small businesses sucked in the sense that everything was the owner’s responsibility, stock and delivery included. Dad hadn’t expanded enough that we could pay a delivery service to ship directly to customers. That was his job, usually, but during busy seasons, that responsibility went to his favorite minion…me.

  Dad glanced over the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “I need you to run this shipment up to Howard Fern today.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. The fifteenth text this morning. I pulled it out of my pocket and swiped my thumb across the screen to unlock it.

  Lex. Again.

  I clicked out of the message and swallowed past the tightness in my throat.

  She wasn’t always heartless—the beginning was great. Lots of laughs, cuddling on the couch, and she made the best chocolate chip cookies I’d ever tasted—besides my grandma’s. But as soon as we hit the year mark, everything went downhill. If I took my head out of my ass, I probably would have been able to tell she was more into my roommate than me.

  Dad’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Are you listening?”

  “Sorry.”

  “You and that damn phone.” He shook his head. “If you spent as much time studying as you did texting, you’d be well on your way to graduating. For Christ’s sake, you had one more year.”

  I shook my head, staring down at the floor. Making me feel like a dipshit wasn’t going to get me any closer to having my name printed on a college degree. “I know. Sorry.”

  He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “If this is going to be your job for the summer, or maybe your career, you need to take it seriously. Take the company truck and bring Jules along to help.”

  Hell would freeze over before this was my career. He kept pushing this on me, didn’t think I should join Uncle Gary in the police force. Being stuck indoors all day in the suffocating recirculated air? I’d die a slow and torturous death, Britney Spears on the speakers pushing me over the edge of insanity, if this was my end goal. I got it, he was proud of the store, building it from the ground up, but the apple fell ten miles from the tree in terms of career aspirations.

  I focused back on what he’d said about the shipment. “This isn’t a two person job.” I didn’t need Jules to help me with three crates of paper.

  “Company rules, Ryan. Always two people—one and it’s a liability.”

  I nodded and grabbed the slip of paper from his hand, the address scribbled in illegible print.

  I was just about to exit Dad’s office when he piped up. “Son?”

  “Yeah?”

  His intense gaze turned my marrow to ice. “Be nice to her. I saw how you treated her on Monday. That’s not how I raised you.” He lifted a brow, waiting for a response.

  I nodded. He knew how to go straight for the nads. Not one of my finer moments and, of course, he had to see. Smoothing a hand through his frosted tips, he dismissed me.

  I walked out of his office, out to the Customer Service counter, where Peach was helping a customer. She saw me and flashed a bright smile. Dad seemed to think I was bad news, but being nice got me steamrolled by Lex. Not anymore. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s doormat. I looked over at Jules again. This summer would be just what I needed before I started the academy: fun.

  Fifteen minutes later, we loaded crates into the company truck and made our way to Howard Fern’s house.

  I glanced out of the corner of my eye as Jules knocked her head back into the seat and sighed.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” she asked, holding her phone up. “My phone doesn’t have service in these hills. Does yours?”

  “I think it’s off of Farmington Road. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.” I shifted in my seat to grab my phone out of my back pocket, a little X over the reception icon when the screen lit up. “No service for me, either.” The back roads of Spring Hill sometimes got confusing, twists and turns everywhere, but I was sure we’d find his house.

  She glanced around at the barren landscape, not even a building within view, her eyebrows scrunching together. “Should we go back?”

  I purposely kept my eyes trained on the road, not chancing a glance over at her. Jules was a tough one to crack. She didn’t act like all the other girls I’d gone after who’d shown interest immediately (not a huge surprise since I was a total tool to her when we first met). If I wanted to get with her, I needed to play it cool.

  “Nah, we’ll be fine.”

  Forty minutes later I was eating my words. The gas needle teased the eighth-of-a-tank line and I had no clue in hell where we were on this old country road. To Peach’s credit, she didn’t once give a smartass remark about how we were lost but, as we drove deeper into the boonies, I knew I had royally screwed up.

  The smell of motor oil, old fried food, and worn truck made my stomach churn. Added to the massive book hangover from last night, taking every aptitude test in that damn text—which didn’t tell me much more than I liked being outdoors—this day was going down the shitter pretty fast.

  She let out a sigh as we passed a herd of cows grazing in a pasture. “Why don’t we stop somewhere and ask for directions?” There was a slight annoyance twisting in her voice.

  “Just five more minutes. If we can’t find it by then, we’ll stop somewhere.”

  “But that little convenience store was the only thing I’ve seen for a couple miles.”

  I didn’t want to admit she was right. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was finding my way out of this, but now that she was so adamant I was wrong, I was determined to prove otherwise. I needed to feel like I could so something right today, even something as trivial as finding our way out of the boonies. “We’ll find it.”

  “I don’t think you could find it even if you had a map with a big X marking the spot,” she muttered.

  I raised my brow. “I assure you, I can find the spot.”

  “Would you even know what to do with it if you found it?”

  I turned to her and said, “I can give you a demonstration.”

  A pink flush filled her cheeks, and she smoothed her finger along the earrings that climbed up her lobe.

  Just as she was about to answer, a loud pop came from the engine, and smoke began to pour from the front of the truck, clouding my view of the road. “Shit.” I pulled over and cut the engine. I closed my eyes and gripped the steering wheel. Dad would go absolutely apeshit if I needed the truck towed.

&nbs
p; After unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the door, I turned to Jules and said, “Hold on, I’ll go check what’s wrong.”

  We were so fucked.

  The extent of my car knowledge could be written on my non-existent diploma and we’d passed the last gas station a few miles back. I jumped out of the truck and opened the hood, hot steam barreling into my chest and face. Swatting away the fumes, I stared down at the labyrinth of parts, most of them I wasn’t able to name. If I looked at it long enough, maybe it would tell me what was wrong, like a Magic 8 Ball. Fix thingy next to square-shaped thing. Yep, I was going to look like an imbecile in front of Jules.

  The truck shifted and Jules appeared by my side a few seconds later.

  “You looked a little lost, thought I’d come out to help.”

  I cracked a smile. “Okay, MacGyver.”

  “Can you scoot?” She nudged me with her hip, and I took a step back, giving her more room.

  Okay, so she wasn’t kidding. Interesting, since she struck me as more the spa type rather than a grease monkey.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and nibbled on her lip. “Can you get me a screwdriver?” She peeled off her boots, set them next to the front tire, and pulled back her hair like she was getting down to business.

  I eyed her as she surveyed the truck. “You actually know what’s wrong?”

  She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Stereotype much?”

  Damn, dirty-mouthed Peach worked on cars? My cock hardened at the thought of her bent over my Camaro, working on the transmission, grease covering those perfectly manicured nails. Shit. I was supposed to be dealing with this situation, definitely not thinking insert muscle car, miniskirt, and my dick.