The Dirty Version

by Hadley Quinn

  He’d read it before I’d edited most of the juicy details from my date with Josh on his birthday. He knew I’d literally been bent over a barrel!

  “Fuck me sideways,” I muttered.

  Harlan released a soft snicker. “Jo, don’t even fret. Your writing is…it’s bloody brilliant. I couldn’t stop reading. You are…you’ve got to be the voice of so many women but know how to relay it in a way most couldn’t.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. The voice of so many women. That’s what the fucking email from the publisher had said.

  “Oh my God, Harlan, if you had anything to do with that email I got…”

  He exhaled, like he was relieved. “Good, so you did receive it. Lee wasn’t sure you got it.”

  Suspicion probably didn’t look good on me, but I couldn’t help it. “It was from someone named Leesa,” I countered. “With two E’s—” I stopped myself. Leesa with two E’s. Lee for short. “Oh, Harlan. Who is she, and what did you do?”

  He held up his hands, like that was supposed to calm me down. “Leesa is my aunt.” The British in him totally slipped out with a pronunciation like awnt. And then the faster he spoke and the more words that came out, he was completely speaking like a Brit.

  After explaining that Leesa was a literary agent and he’d mentioned my blog to her, he admitted he wasn’t sure she’d even peek at it. He was surprised she had because of how busy she was.

  “She wants to meet with me. About what?”

  “You should email her back.”

  “I did.”

  He studied me for a moment. “How long ago? Because she was really impatient that you hadn’t emailed her back. Jolie, I think she’s dead set on publishing your blog. She had nothing but good things to say about it.”

  I sighed. Everything was such a shock, and I didn’t know what to think. “Just a bit ago. I just saw her email this morning.”

  He pulled out his phone and began scrolling.

  “Hey, do not contact her,” I commanded. “Harlan, seriously.”

  “She’s dying to hear from you.”

  “I don’t care. Now it feels weird that you’re responsible for this. Had I known that, I wouldn’t have emailed her back.” I didn’t know if that was true or not, but the more I thought about it, the more accurate I felt it was. I didn’t appreciate someone going behind my back to share my work.

  He set his phone down. “Do not dismiss how clever your writing is, Jolie. Whether I had something to do with it or not, you deserve this.”

  “Deserve what? Because I never set out to publish my personal blog. I never contacted anyone to take it any further. That’s never been my goal.”

  “Then maybe it should be.”

  I had no response. Did he not understand? Sharing my personal life anonymously was one thing; sharing it publicly was another.

  “Jo—” He paused. “Can I call you Jo?”

  I blinked, totally thrown off by the question. “Yeah, I don’t care,” I mumbled.

  “Will you just meet with Leesa? You don’t have to agree to anything. Just hear what she has to say.”

  “The only reason I share as much of my personal life as I do is because no one knows who I am,” I emphasized. “I want to keep it that way.”

  “Then use a pseudonym.”

  I stared at him, wondering why I didn’t understand what he was saying.

  “Authors use pen names all the time,” he continued. “That doesn’t have to change. Stay Average Jo.”

  I scoffed. “That sounds stupid. How is that a proper pen name?”

  He chuckled, and although I knew he wasn’t intending to mock me, I was irritated nonetheless. “Personally, I think it’s bloody brilliant. It’s like Anonymous but…better.” He received a text and said, “She emailed you back.”

  Hesitantly, I stared at my laptop. Harlan remained silent, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to open the email in front of him. I didn’t need or want the pressure.

  He seemed to sense that and told me he had a shoot to prepare for. On his way to the door he added, “Oh, and I’m not a spy. Or…maybe I am. Perhaps we could discuss that for your next blog entry.”

  I had no response except to roll my eyes at his cheekiness.

  He let himself out. I remained on the couch, completely dazed. After a few minutes, I opened the email. Leesa was even more adamant about meeting me—not ready to promise anything, but truly interested in discussing my work and future goals.

  She gave me her personal cell phone number.

  My nerves were on a total joyride. I had no idea how fast they were traveling or where they were going, or more importantly, why I was just a passenger.

  I stood from the couch, feeling jittery and out of control. Was I about to have a fucking breakdown? Why? What the hell was going on with me? Someone was interested in publishing my hobby. My hobby. I should have been flattered, ecstatic, eager… Right?

  Okay, I actually was. Honestly. I was just so overwhelmed with the possibility. And I liked to read a lot, so I knew many authors I was interested in wrote with pen names. Some had remained that way, but I also knew some hadn’t. Well, the bigger names, possibly. But that would never be me, so what did I have to worry about?

  Right?

  ~30~

  “Jolie, a word?”

  Patrick motioned me into the break room just as I was about to start my shift. I hoped to God he wasn’t going to switch me to lunch shift again. I loved working with Anna too much.

  “What’s up?” I asked with a plastered smile. He needed to know I was extremely happy to be at work that day and ready to represent Timeout to the highest degree.

  He paused, and then I noticed the unpleasant frown on his face. At last, he sighed. “It’s come to my attention that your personal life is affecting the restaurant. I don’t want to let you go, but if you can’t handle it on your own, then I have no choice but to head off the problem before it gets worse.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t understand what you mean. My personal life?” I didn’t think I’d done anything bad like use work hours for personal calls or mistakenly talk too much to people I knew when they came in to eat.

  He sighed again, and I didn’t like it. It was like he was about to lecture a disobedient child. “Chris? Is he your boyfriend?”

  I raised my eyebrows that time, but heat instantly filled my face. He knew about Chris? How?

  “Um, he’s-he’s not my boyfriend,” I stammered. “And also not a problem. He left without causing any disturbance…” Even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t true. He had caught Patrick’s attention, but obviously, my boss knew it’d been more than just a drunk customer.

  “Without causing a disturbance?” he repeated, confused. “What do you mean?” And then his face transformed into understanding. “Oh, so that was him that day at the bar? I didn’t realize that, but someone keeps calling here, asking for you, asking if you’re working,” he told me. “I finally found out his name is Chris. I’m not happy about it. If he does it again, I have no choice but to let you go. I don’t like any negativity associated with my restaurant, and I don’t want any potential problems.”

  I wanted to argue with him, tell him it wasn’t my fault, ask him why I was being punished for someone else’s obsession. But I was numb, speechless. I barely nodded before he told me to start my shift. He left the room, but I remained for a minute, trying to keep my temper at bay.

  How fucking dare he! I wanted to inflict physical harm on Chris, and the thought of that made me absolutely livid.

  Anna must have been keen on Patrick’s meeting with me because she entered the break room just as I was tying my apron. “What’s going on? Jo, you look like you’re about to puke.”

  She was right. I felt ill. I found my water bottle in the fridge and took a sip. I filled her in about Chris, and the look on her face matched the angry, rippling blood in my body.

  “What a fucking prick, calling here,” she growled. “Look,
I’m gonna have a talk with Patrick—”

  “No. Stay out of it. I can handle this.”

  “He’ll listen to me, Jo. I’ve been here for five years; he won’t want to lose me.”

  I studied the seriousness on her face. “No, you are not going to bargain your job for mine. This is not your problem.”

  She argued with me for another minute until she said, “You haven’t told your family, have you? Or Josh?” She let out a long, expressive sigh. “Jolie, Jesus Christ, tell him.”

  “Why? What’s it going to accomplish?”

  “Well, if anything, I’d certainly feel better about it if you did. But besides that, he needs to be there for you. This is a problem, and it should be his problem, too.”

  There were many ways I could argue that point, but I understood what she meant. If the roles were reversed, I would want Josh to share with me.

  I promised her I’d talk to him, but I didn’t plan for it to be so soon. He came into the restaurant two nights later, and I took my dinner break with him, asking questions about the new Berkeley facility. They were just about to open for business, and he wanted me to be his date for an exclusive invite-only dinner.

  “I’d love that,” I agreed. “When and where?”

  It would be at the Berkeley location, duh, and it was somewhat formal. His sister-in-law’s catering company would be serving that night, so it was no doubt going to be excellent food.

  “I’m in. Sounds great.”

  “Perfect,” he grinned, lacing his fingers between mine. “And I’ll be the luckiest man there with the smartest, most gorgeous date.”

  By the time we’d finished up details on the event, my break was over, and I had to get back to work. Josh stayed and watched the Giants’ game against the Diamondbacks, and I loved being his waitress for the night. My brother even stopped by to join him, whether that was planned or not, but just the sight of them enjoying the game together while eating great food made my heart full of joy.

  And drinks. Jeez, my brother was old enough to be served alcohol. It was so strange to be serving him beer.

  “My heart,” Anna cooed, watching Josh and Drew conversing about the game. She patted her chest. “I think I might have one.”

  “Pssh,” I scoffed, gently nudging her. “You certainly do have one. But I know what you mean. Seeing them together warms my heart. Life is good, you know?”

  She grinned at me. “Seeing you so happy makes me want to cry. I’m not sure what the fuck has happened to me lately.”

  Laughing, I shook my head. “I love you for all the support. It’s hard to find friends who genuinely celebrate your successes in life.”

  “Hey, I will always be cheering for you. You can count on it.”

  We both returned to work until I heard my name from the entryway. I wasn’t sure who’d said it because the restaurant was busy and loud. I’d just waved at Sam, who was there with a date, but I knew it hadn’t been him calling my name. He seemed deeply attentive to the woman he was sitting with. But once my eyes scanned the crowd before returning to work, I think my heart stopped beating.

  Chris.

  In my panic, I headed straight for him. I couldn’t let Patrick see my ex or know he was there, and I couldn’t give Chris time to make a scene.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed, grabbing him by the arm. I pulled him to the exit as fast as I could, and I was glad he let me. I moved us around the corner, away from any customers coming in or out. “You can’t keep coming here, or even calling here.”

  “Then just talk to me,” he retorted. “All I want to do is talk.”

  “Oh really?” I spat sarcastically. “I have a phone, you know. Why not call me?” I didn’t want him to call me, but I was pointing out the fact he was flat out harassing me at work.

  He seemed to know that when he only smirked as an answer.

  “I’m not putting up with this any longer,” I told him. “The harassment ends now. If I have to file a restraining order against you, then so be it.”

  “A restraining order? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “What the hell do you need to talk to me for?” I demanded.

  He shifted his stance. After I almost flipped out from the silence, he finally answered. “Have you had enough of a break, Jo? Hasn’t this gone on long enough?”

  I gaped at him. Was he honestly suggesting the divorce was just me throwing a little temper tantrum before taking him back?

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I scoffed. “Chris, I divorced you because I don’t want to be married to you anymore. I don’t want to be with you. I’m done. There is no going back, and there are no more chances. It’s over.”

  He was shaking his head. “I think you’re just still hot about all of it. Things will blow over and you’ll see I never meant to hurt you; I made a mistake. You’re not a heartless person, Jo. You can forgive me.”

  “Forgive you?” I contemplated in silence. Of course I could forgive people. But was I expected to forgive someone who lied to me and hurt me so badly? Ultimately, I replied, “I do forgive you, Chris. But it doesn’t change my decision. Forgiveness allows me to move on, and I have.”

  I turned to go back inside, but he grabbed my arm. “Move on? What the fuck does that mean?”

  I yanked my arm out of his grasp. “Exactly what it sounds like. I’ve moved on and so should you. There is no discussion on this, so leave me alone.”

  “Jolie!” he shouted after me. “Jolie, you can’t fucking do this!”

  I was almost to the front entrance when Josh stepped outside, causing me to pause. Panic pierced through my heart since Chris was still shouting at me from behind. Josh narrowed his eyes at my ex, and then at me, and then back to Chris, trying to make a quick call on the situation.

  Drew stepped outside right behind Josh. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, pointing at Chris. “Stay the fuck away from my sister!”

  He lunged forward, but Josh threw his arm out to block him. I’d also stepped in front of my brother.

  “Jo, what’s going on?” Josh asked, glancing from me to Chris again.

  “Oh, so this is your ‘moving on,’ Jo? This guy?” Even in the dim light, I could see Chris’s nasty, jealous sneer.

  My heart continued pounding in my chest as the past and present were about to collide right in front of me.

  “This is the fuckwad that cheated on her,” Drew angrily informed Josh. “And he doesn’t belong anywhere near her!”

  Josh looked at me for confirmation, so I nodded. But I also took him by the arm and said, “Let’s go inside. I need to get back to work.”

  “When you’re done with the trash, Jo, let me know,” Chris mocked. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to crawl back. I took care of you! You’ll be ready for that again.”

  I couldn’t believe the audacity. And I didn’t even think he was drunk. I only shook my head in disgust, ready to walk away, but then Patrick stepped outside.

  And Josh made a move for Chris, using a forearm to pin him up against the building. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  “What’s going on out here?” Patrick pressed, looking right at me for an answer in between glancing at everyone else.

  “Nothing,” I assured him. “Just a misunderstanding between customers, but everything is fine.” I pulled Josh off Chris, and thankfully, he let him go.

  It was apparent Patrick didn’t believe me as he eyed Chris a little closer. Then he looked at me and said, “So it hasn’t been resolved, huh?” He sighed, shook his head, and opened his mouth again.

  “No, it is,” I rushed. “It totally is. Everyone’s cool, and there won’t be any more issues.” I gave Chris stern eyes, but the way he glared at me said more than I was willing to accept.

  He was ready to punish me even more.

  “Your waitress likes making a scene in front of customers,” Chris replied smugly, motioning at a couple who were eyeing us, about to enter the building. He straigh
tened his clothes and glared at Josh. “It’s bad for business, wouldn’t you say?”

  Fortunately, he walked away, but the damage was done. Even before that comment, I felt Patrick had already made up his mind.

  “I already warned you, Jo,” he sighed. “Clock out and go home. I’m sorry.” He made his way back inside.

  My chest felt like it had filled with cement. I was utterly humiliated, but worse, without a job. I just couldn’t win, and the frustration seemed to pile up all at once, and I completely lost it.

  I started to cry. And instead of going back inside to clock out and hang up my apron, I turned for the parking lot.

  “Jo!” Josh called, jogging behind. “Jo, hold up.”

  He gently caught my hand and stopped me. I had nothing left and just collapsed against his chest. He let me cry until there were no more tears left. Or snot. I think my snot was also all over his shirt.

  “Let me take you home,” he spoke softly. “Come on.”

  He led me toward his truck, but I was blubbering about my keys and my car, and Anna, and…I wasn’t sure what else. The last thing I remembered was Josh tucking me in bed with him that night.

  And then I slept for nine hours straight.

  ~31~

  Even with so much sleep, my morning was groggy. I was in Josh’s house, not my own; my car was in the driveway next to his truck but no one was around.

  Did last night really happen? It all seemed so surreal, but my memory served me well. I knew the conclusion to the night was a fact.

  I’d been fired.

  I found some juice in the fridge. I was hungry, but the thought of food made me nauseas. Sitting on the couch, I stared out the window into the backyard, and that’s when I spotted Josh. He was on the patio, setting out what looked like a brand-new table and chair set.

  After wandering through the sliding door, I stepped onto the cobblestone patio in my bare feet. He spent a few beats assessing my bed hair and overall appearance, and then came across the patio.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, almost cautiously like I’d be mad.