Hayden's Verse

by A. C. Bextor

  She thinks momentarily before rendering her judgment. “Kiss was good. It was your approach. Some women like . . . I don’t know . . . maybe a second to prepare?”

  “Next time, maybe.”

  “And, while you’re at it, don’t take my clothes off anymore.”

  “Are you drunk? You’re still dressed,” I needlessly point that out.

  Leaning in, hitting my shoulder with hers, she answers, “Apron. Gloves. Those are still clothes. You were trying to seduce me after dinner.”

  “I was trying to seduce you during dinner. You didn’t notice?”

  “Staring hungrily at a girl is your version of seduction?”

  I don’t answer. She’s smirking as she realizes I’m doubting my own ability to seduce a woman. Mentally, I’m recalculating Acts One and Two in my playbook.

  “You’re too young to know anything about seduction,” I accuse.

  “No, not too young. I’m just not easy. If a man gets to have me, he has to work for it.”

  “I’ll remember this in the future.”

  “Well, that would help,” she advises smartly.

  Throughout the rest of the night, we talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. I’ve never sat with a woman and just had mindless conversation. It’s easy and relaxing listening to her fill me in about her life and where she came from.

  She told me about her and her friend, Addison, and how they grew up. They never got into any trouble, only because they had never been caught as most teenagers tend to do. Addie is pissed she left home and hasn’t spoken to her since the night she called to tell her goodbye.

  Her love of music, unfortunately, isn’t like-minded to mine. She doesn’t appreciate the old stuff; she’s more into pop and rap. I accepted that, but not without giving her a lot of grief.

  She also told me about her ex-boyfriend, Alec, the douche, as I now refer to him. He actually slept with her mother. She and her mom were never close, and after that night a couple of weeks ago, she’s vowed to discard her from her life completely.

  I told her things about my life: my mom leaving when I was born; my dad’s alcohol addiction; how Ace, Travis, and Toby are the constant staples in my life. She listened to every word I said and didn’t appear to judge my answers harshly.

  She did ask me about my single status, though. I was honest with my answers, readying for her to question me more on the topic.

  “You’ve never been in a relationship, ever?”

  “Nope. Why make emotional payments to a woman when she can milk me for free?” It was a dick answer, but it’s the one I gave. Crude, I know.

  “That’s kind of sad. How old are you?”

  “How old are you?” I asked. Although ready for judgment, I never appreciate it.

  “You’re what, like nineteen? You hardly have enough experience.”

  “Twenty-one, and that’s just age.”

  “No, Lacey. I’ve never been in a real relationship. At least not as long as I’ve been an adult.”

  “I hope I meet the girl who does you in then. That’s crazy.”

  “Crazy to you is satisfying to me.”

  She moved her hands in surrender. “I’m not saying what you’re doing with women is wrong. I’ve just never been that type of woman, I guess.”

  I leaned in closer to her, watching her skin pebble in anticipation to my nearness. Bringing my voice to a whisper, I watched her shudder when I said, “If you’d ever like to try being that type, you let me know.”

  She changed the subject after that and referenced the time. Before we knew it, the sun was coming up; we hadn’t slept the entire night. I should’ve been exhausted, yet I had never felt so awake.

  “Are you going to be at The Ward tonight? It’s my first night.”

  Getting up off the floor and cracking my back, I tell her, “Yeah. You’ll probably be missing me by then, so I’ll stop to say hello.”

  “Leave your sad flirting behind, will you?”

  “Sad flirting?”

  “Flirting. Seduction. Whatever that was earlier.”

  “Right. Well, we’ll see.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hayden

  “HEY, DAD? ARE you around?”

  “In here, Hayden,” I hear my dad call out from the direction of his den. He works from home most days, only going into the office for important meetings. He’s in recovery and until it’s certain he’s stable, he’s nervous about being out and what possible temptations that can offer. Once he sees me standing at his door, he asks, “You look worn out and tired, son. Busy night?”

  My dad, the aging player, asks, but in his eyes I don’t find the usual celebratory look I once did. Just six months ago, he would have offered a high-five in congratulations for being out all night. Since being sober, it seems my dad has realized he’s spent all these years alone without a woman to love him as he deserves to be loved.

  “Not really. I stayed at Trav’s last night. I met his little sister, Lacey.”

  “Ah, that’s right. The long-lost sister. How was she?”

  I pause, thinking of a way to accurately describe her, but I’m not sure what to say. I aim for vague. “She’s fun; kinda sweet, too.”

  Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Travis Nikels’ kid sister is fun and sweet?”

  “Yeah, she is. If you can believe that.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Stepping further into the office, I take a seat across from him as he muddles through law files and paperwork.

  Meeting Lacey last night was interesting. The jovial conversation and friendly banter was fun. All the way over here, I thought about her and how easy she was to be around. She’s sweet and funny, and her cocky attitude and quick wit had me smiling without effort. Apparently, she’s immune to my attempts of flirting and seduction.

  I’ll try harder.

  “Dad, how did you know Mom was the one you’d spend the rest of your life missing?” I ask the question I hadn’t ever thought to ask him in all these years. I didn’t ask him how he knew my mom was ‘the one’ because throughout even my young life, he’s told me time and time again she was the one who got away.

  After flipping through a few more papers, my dad tosses the last one on the filing cabinet next to him and stares at them while contemplating his answer. “Truth?”

  “Yes.” Even though I’m unsure I’m ready to hear it.

  “I didn’t know she was the one for me until after she left us.”

  His answer surprises me. “You told me you were going to marry her.” I state the truth. “How did you not know?”

  “My life was different then, Hayden. I was in law school and she worked at a diner near the college. Neither of us had much between us; no family really to speak of and definitely not any money. It was a summer spent doing no more than taking long walks, talking, and just being together. I was about to graduate that spring and start my internship downtown when she told me she was pregnant with you.”

  “Why do you think she really left?” My voice, both hopeful for answers and honest with question, waivers slightly.

  “I don’t know and I knew I’d never have that answer. But I had you, so I knew I had to let her go. You were more important to both of us at the time.”

  “You never looked for her?”

  Dad sighs and leans up in his chair, elbows resting on his mahogany desk. He looks uncertain and lost as if he’s thought about this every day since she left and wondered if he had done the right thing by letting her go. “She didn’t want to be found, Hayden. Olivia . . . your mother was a free spirit. She loved life and when she left, the way she left, I knew it was best for everyone to leave it alone and just say goodbye.”

  “You never found anyone else.” I hear the accusation in my tone. I often wondered what my life would’ve been like with a maternal figure to help both him and me.

  “I didn’t want to find anyone else. She was it for me. There wouldn’t have been any point to looking for more,
because she wasn’t coming back.”

  “Tell me more about her. What was she like?”

  Dad starts to speak, but stops himself to think before telling me about her through his eyes. “She was funny. Her humor was dry and something I always found made her attractive. She liked animals. When she found out she was pregnant with you, she begged me to get her a dog.”

  “You didn’t.” I’d never had a pet growing up. As every boy did, I wished for one.

  He chuckles while shaking his head. “No, I didn’t. I was jealous of every man who so much as looked at your mother. I wasn’t about to get her an animal that would draw her attention away from me. I was selfish and wanted her all to myself.”

  “Harsh, Dad.”

  “I should’ve given her so much more than I did. I regret it. She never asked anything of me, though. Not even my time. She was selfless in that way.”

  “I think about finding her sometimes,” I confess and when I do, my dad pins me with a pointed glare.

  “She left, Hayden. Leave it alone. Some people don’t want to be found.”

  Easing the tension around my dad’s eyes, I smile as I look out the window to see Cathy’s van pulling up and inform my dad of something that should be obvious to him. “Cathy likes you.”

  Cathy Jennings is my dad’s cook and maid. He hired her after I moved out during my freshman year of college. She’s the one friend in my dad’s life who’s seen him at his darkest but never left. She’s his age and has witnessed, time and time again, my dad reaching to stay young by surrounding himself with woman after woman, some nearly half his age. On occasions, she’s pinned me down long enough to ask for advice on how to rid my dad of those ‘money-hungry whores’ who came around more than she appreciated.

  Dad smiles back through his statement. “Cathy is a good person. She’s very kind.”

  “You’re not interested in her in any other way? She’s kinda hot for an old person.”

  Dad smiles with a hint of sadness. “There’s history there; let’s just leave it at that.”

  Funny thing, history. We all have it. Some versions are more colorful and confusing than we’d like it to be. History that, although we won’t admit, makes us question the decisions of our future and leaves us regretful of our past. You can never forget or escape it—it’s a constant lesson that reminds you of where you’ve been and no matter what you do, you’ll never be that person again. If you’re lucky, you at least remember who you were during that period of time surrounding the memory, whether good or bad.

  “I’m going to bed. I’ll crash here for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

  “Going to bed? It’s . . .” Dad checks his silver Rolex while giving it a smug grin, “seven-thirty in the morning. Have you not slept at all?”

  There’s no point in lying. “No. Lacey and I hung out all night.”

  “Be careful, Hayden,” Dad says in an accusing tone, one that matches Travis and Ace’s. “That’s his kid sister and he’s just met her.”

  “Right,” I say, standing up, stretching and dismissing his insinuation. “Going to sleep. Talk to you later.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lacey

  “FOUR EGGS OVER easy, bacon, wheat toast, and a large stack of pancakes. Coffee to drink.” The waitress, Maya, stares at Travis while he orders. He’s not paying any attention to her longing look of admiration for his handsome features. He’s my brother, and though it may be weird, I can appreciate the fact that he’s attractive.

  “Jesus, Travis. Did you miss five meals?” I smile at Maya who stands bouncing from foot to foot, anxiously readying for an escape as soon as it’s available. “I’ll have white toast and a scrambled egg. Diet Coke.”

  “What?” he feigns, handing the menu back to her and winking in her direction. She blushes immediately but grabs it from him and dashes off. “I’m a growing boy.”

  “Growing out, maybe,” I return with my own smirk. “I like your friends,” I tell him as I unfold my napkin and adjust my silverware.

  “They like you, too.”

  “Bean’s a nut.”

  “Sarah’s worse,” he admits.

  “She likes Hayden.” I pause until he looks up at me from adjusting his own napkin. “Like, she likes him a lot.”

  “You caught that, huh? She makes it less obvious now than she used to,” he says, taking a drink of our delivered coffee and looking at me over the rim. “She’s crushed on him since she was seven. No idea why.”

  “He’s charming,” I state, then add for good measure, “and hot.”

  “Don’t.” He holds his hand up, trying to keep me from saying more. “I know you and I just met, but still, you’re my sister and that’s fuckin’ gross.”

  “Well, he is. I’m just saying I understand her attraction.”

  “What the fuck ever.”

  “She loves you, though,” I aim to soothe. “She may like to look at Hayden for his obvious attributes, but she loves you.” I wait for him to stop me again, but he doesn’t. “She trusts you.”

  “She’s always been crazy. I feel bad for her. She’s lost in the mix of Ace’s life. She always has been.”

  “I can see that.”

  Taking another drink of his coffee, he sets it down while asking, “How’d your visit with Hayden go last night?”

  How did it go?

  After he kissed me, I refused to think about how good his lips felt on mine and pressed forward without delay. I enjoyed his company and ignored the thoughts of how having his hands on my face affected me. Along with how he touched me and how I felt the heat in his fingertips move my mouth to his.

  “He’s funny.”

  Hayden’s comment about me being young wasn’t completely untrue. I’ve only ever been sexually involved with two men. When I was sixteen, I lost my virginity to a boy who was just as inexperienced as I was and it ended up being a miserable encounter. Then I found Alec, and although he made it as good for me as he could, I knew there had to be something more out there. It wasn’t passionate or consuming; it was proficient and routine.

  Travis places his hands together on the table and studies his calloused fingers. “He’s a lot of things I’d like to warn you about.”

  “A big brother speech, huh? Do I need a paper and pen to take notes?”

  His eyes meet mine in fury when faced with my sarcasm. I’ve found he doesn’t appreciate anything wise-ass. “You don’t know how he is with women, Lacey. He uses them and he knows it. He doesn’t mistreat them, but he does use them.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m not sayin’ he’s a bad guy. If he were, he wouldn’t be my best friend. I’m only sayin’ this to you because you’ve just met him, and well . . . he’s Hayden.”

  “He’s not interested in me like that,” I reassure him, even though I feel the lie as I say it.

  If Hayden is who he and the others say he is, his attempts to flirt and seduce me last night could’ve led to more, had I let it.

  “Well, thank fuck for that.”

  After his comments about Hayden, our conversation fell silent. I wasn’t going to have a debate with Travis in a crowded restaurant. I didn’t mention to him that Hayden ended up staying all night and talking to me until dawn. I was fearful of his reaction when in fact I like Hayden; I can’t quite explain it but I feel protective of him against Travis’s description. Granted, spending the time over dinner watching him was effortless, but talking to Hayden was much more. He’s genuine and kind underneath that flirtatious guard; nothing I would’ve expected from a player like him.

  “Are you nervous about starting the job tonight?”

  “No, not really. It’s waiting tables.” I shrug, putting him at ease. Travis is still anxious, I can tell.

  “I get that, but do me a favor and watch yourself. Stay close to Shelby and Mel.”

  “Aye, aye, big brother.” I mock-salute and watch him sneer. It doesn’t take much to put him in a mood. I already know this, but continue to poke the bear when
I can.

  *****

  Tonight, The Ward is packed, even for a Monday. Normally, this has been named the slowest day of the week; however, tonight it’s anything but. The cause of the crowd is the weekday entertainment, band, Dragon’s Mansion. The lead singer, Sheridan Michaels is British. He told me this within the first few minutes of meeting me, as if I couldn’t hear it in his accent. I assumed this was supposed to impress me, but it didn’t.

  According to him, he’s the next up-and-coming superstar of the United Kingdom.

  His family moved here following his father’s job four years ago. He’s the stereotypical wannabe rock star: long blond hair, tall, lanky, and a lot suspicious. Women aren’t as drawn to him as they are Hayden, and there’s no way he doesn’t know this.

  “He wants to buy you a beer after his set,” Shelby advises curtly, an unsaid warning against someone she finds difficult to tolerate. “I told the British ‘arse’ you were closing and wouldn’t have time.”

  “He’s been at me most of the night.”

  She rolls her eyes in despair. “I know. I saw that.” Then she more pointedly expresses, “He puts his hands on you again, you tell Mel. He’ll handle it.”

  Mel, the owner of The Ward, is big and brawny. He’s like a father figure to his staff. His bald head, pierced ears, and tight wife-beater tee all coupled with his grouchy disposition don’t fool the women who work here. The staff know him to be cuddly and warm—until you piss him off. He’s not a fan of Sheridan and when Shelby caught him grabbing my ass as I passed his table, I noted she wasn’t a fan either.

  “I will.” I answer her demand with certainty.

  “Well, look at that.” She motions toward the door and I watch as Hayden makes his way through it, but he’s not alone. The woman at his side is blonde, tan, and from here any outsider would view them as a model couple.

  I feel insignificant and small in her presence.

  “He said he was stopping in.”

  Shelby’s eyebrows furrow in a disbelieving thought. “On a weeknight?”

  “Yeah, for my first night. He’s here to say hello.”