Sasha looks down to her feet as she digs her toe into the linoleum tile. “Yeah, he tried calling me this morning. I didn’t pick up, though.”
“Shit,” Tango snaps. “Don’t answer his call.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she says, sounding defensive.
“Did he leave a message or anything?”
Sasha looks up and stares blankly through Tango. “Just that he wanted to talk and explain some things.”
Tango struggles to pull himself up against his pillow and groans, “Great, well he can explain himself to me if he needs someone to talk to.”
I stand up to help Tango since none of the ladies in this room would have any chance of lifting his heavy ass, but he waves me away. “So, I’m thinking you shouldn’t be engaging in any physical altercations right now,” I tell Tango. Because that should be an obvious statement.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Sasha, you’re staying at our house for a bit, right? No more being stupid and going back to your house, you got it?” Tango says, coldly.
“Tango,” Cali scolds him.
“Dude, no need for name calling. She wanted to grab her stuff; I get it,” I defend Sasha even though I don’t agree with her going back to that house.
“We need to get out of this area,” Tango says. That’s his answer to everything. Run away. Hide. Erase identities. Not that I should talk. Tango and I are very alike in that respect. I’ve been running away since I was discharged two years ago. Like Tango, I have the thought that if I run fast enough and far enough away, the truths and memories will never catch up to me.
“Maybe you’re right,” Cali says to Tango.
“You guys, I’m sure everything will be okay. There’s no need to make a hasty decision like that,” Sasha argues.
“Sasha, you don’t get it,” Cali says. “Guys like Landon don’t give up. I’m sure he knows he fucked up. I’m guessing he’s having regrets now, but he’s obviously crazy enough to sacrifice your life and safety for money. I think we both know what a person like that will do for money.”
“Okay,” Sasha says. “I get it, but I still don’t think you need to move away.”
“By the way, I’m coming home tomorrow,” Tango interrupts the heat growing in the room. “Jags, man, you’re still more than welcome to stay at our house for as long as you need.”
As much as I appreciate the offer, I think I need to play this one out slowly. I don’t want to push Sasha to leave that house, and if I’m there, she may not want to be. And looking back on the last few days, her thoughts might change by the second about that. Typical woman. “I’ll let you know what I’m doing. Thanks for the offer,” I tell him. I crumple up the paper from my sandwich and toss it in the trash. “Here’s an extra burger if you’re still hungry,” I offer it up to Tango. Normally I’d have eaten that thing in one second flat, but the reality of what the hell I’m doing here just kind of slammed into me and I need a breath. I came here to help Tango out with some shit. We took care of that shit, and now I’m just lingering again. I don’t linger. Lingering causes settling and that’s not something I want to do, either.
“I’ll see you all later. Glad to hear you’re doing better, man,” I tell him.
“Thanks again for swinging by with the “literature” and burger, bro,” Tango offers.
Sasha’s focus is locked on me as I move around the room, giving Cali a quick hug and then Tyler. Hugging Sasha right now would make things worse for her, I’m guessing, so I offer her a small smile and a salute as I walk out of the room. Every time I end up somewhere new, I somehow end up fucking up more people, as well as myself. Maybe it’s time to move on again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SASHA
“SASHA,” CALI SINGS. “Where are you in that head of yours?” I realize I’m staring through her and Tango as Tyler bounces up and down on my lap.
“Oh, I’m here. Sorry, I’m just tired, I think.”
“Yeah, physical activity so late at night can wear a person out,” she says, grinning. “Come on, spill it.” Considering the fact that Tango is here listening, and he happens to be Jags’s best friend, I’m thinking divulging my errors over the past twenty-four hours isn’t a great idea.
“I heard the power went out last night,” Tango adds in, smirking.
“Yeah, it did,” I agree.
“Must have been hard to see what you were doing in the bathroom,” he continues.
“Okay, I need to get going. Are you keeping Tyler here or do you want me to take her with me?” I ask, standing from my seat.
“No!” Tyler shouts. “Daddy promised I could play with the buttons on his bed and maybe go for a ride!”
“I’ll keep her here,” Cali says, eyeing me wearily. “Where are you off to?”
“I have to go groveling to Daddy for a job, remember?”
Cali stands up from the edge of Tango’s bed and meets me at the door. Her arms loop around my neck and she whispers into my ear, “Thank you for being here for me. Things might get a little rough for a bit, and it means a lot knowing I have you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask softly, pulling away to look her in the eyes. “What’s going to get bad? His leg?”
“I—” Cali turns her head, watching Tango and Tyler playing some hand slapping game. “There’s some concern with his blood work. They’ll need to do more testing before I know anything else, but there might be a regrowth in his lungs.” Her eyes are glossy and staring right into mine.
“But it could be nothing,” I say, trying to keep positive.
“Sure,” Cali says, sporting a fake smile.
My heart aches for her. I just want to hug her tightly and tell her everything will be okay, but she’d just push me off and then badger me some more about last night. So all I can do is let her know I’m available if she needs me. “Let me know if you want to talk. I’m here.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, to stop it from trembling, I think. “Thanks. Tell your dad ‘Hi’ for me.”
I nod my head a bit, trying not to open my mouth since I feel tears pooling in the corner of my eyes. Cali may be able to keep a straight face through tough times, but I’m always the one sitting in the movie theater crying my eyes out when a dog dies.
“Bye, guys,” I tell Tango and Tyler, waving overhead as I walk out.
As I’m heading down the long the hall, my phone vibrates in my purse and my stomach immediately cramps with the mere thought that it might be Landon again. I wish he’d leave me alone. Why would he even want to come near me or talk to me after Jags beat him to a pulp? I’m pretty sure they made it very clear he wasn’t to make contact with me again. Maybe someone is paying him to call me. That, I wouldn’t put past the jerk.
I take the phone out nervously, peering down at Jags’s number that I saved in my phone after Tango used him to call me the other day. I click “read”.
Jags: I’m sorry you got put on the spot like that. Wasn’t sure what to say either.
Stop acting so sweet, Jags. You’re messing with my head. How can someone with such a dirty mouth and mind also possibly be the sweetest person I have ever met? It hurts my head to try and figure it out.
Me: Thanks, I’m okay.
I drop my phone back into my purse, telling myself I’m done with the conversation. I need to figure out where my head is before I say anymore to him. It’s just not a good situation.
Stepping out of the hospital, I walk along the sidewalk and over to the parking lot, where I find Jags leaning up against my car. He is not giving up, is he?
I unlock my car with my clicker, trying to ignore his presence. He’s leaning against the back passenger door, and I’m hoping he just leaves when he sees me get into my car. Time to take a hint.
I reach for my door handle, and his hand wraps around my elbow, stopping me from going any further. “Stop, please.”
“Oh, you’re being sweet again? It’s hard to tell when you’re g
oing to start acting like the dirtiest pig in the world versus acting like this charming person I think we both know you’re not. You’re confusing me, and I don’t like it.”
“Maybe I don’t know who I am. Would that be a good explanation?” he asks, tugging me away from the car door.
“No, it’s not a good explanation at all. I think most people in their late twenties know who they are.”
“Does that include people who cover up their pain with a smile? Or people who say anything they’re thinking because it’s better than speaking the truth? I know I’m brash and ‘rough around the edges’ as you put it, but I still have a heart.”
“I didn’t say you were rough around the edges,” I argue.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
I laugh because he has no idea what I’m thinking. “No, you don’t.”
“I like you, Sasha.” There is sincerity in his eyes, and he’s looking right at me with a stabbing emotion. “I know you don’t like me, though, and I’m okay with that. I just wanted you to know how I felt.” His hand releases from my elbow and I’m free to get into my car now.
“Oh,” is all I can think of to say.
He looks down at his watch as I’m opening the door. “We’re getting more nasty storms within the next couple of hours. Make sure you’re inside somewhere safe, okay?” he says.
I haven’t heard anything about storms rolling in, but I haven’t watched the weather today, either. “I’ll be fine,” I tell him.
“Also, your back tire looks like it needs air. You should get that taken care of today. Bring it by the shop I’m working at if you want me to take a quick look at it.”
“Oh right, I forgot you got a job.”
“It’s just down the road near Stanley Park.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “It’ll be fine.” Everything is going to be fine. Everything.
“Later, doll,” he says without a smile. He can’t be seriously upset with me. He’s been a total dirtbag, a dirtbag I gave in to last night. A dirtbag who bandaged up my knee this morning.
Feeling infuriated that I’m partly to blame for this situation, due to my actions last night in the dark, I take off down the street, heading toward Dad’s office. I hate that I have to do this. I’ve been so good at taking care of myself since I moved out after college, and now I feel like I’m taking gigantic steps backward. Dad’s offered me jobs a number of times over the years, but I enjoyed working at the restaurant. I realize it had nothing to do with my fifty-thousand-dollar business management degree, but it made me happy. Plus, why bother starting a career if I’m just…if I was just planning to end up being a stay-at-home wife and mom some day in the near future. Maybe now I should be regretting that thought since it doesn’t look like a reality I’m going to take part in.
I pull up to the business suite and reapply my lipstick that has long worn off since this morning. With my white blazer pulled tightly over my chest, I fluff my hair a bit and check my reflection in the mirror. The second I take one step out of the car, my stomach sinks a little more. I hate this.
It takes everything I have to make it up to the ninth floor and knock on my dad’s office door after the numerous polite hellos, fake smiles, and explanations of my disappearing act for the past two years to all of the people who work in cubes outside of his office. I used to come in to visit Dad all of the time, but things changed as I became more aware of who he was and how he treated Mom. Mom may not appear to care about her apron wearing, feather-dusting life, but I care for her. She deserves more. Despite the fact that I live only a few miles away, I’ve diligently avoided this place.
“Come in,” Dad says. He doesn’t know it’s me, though. I didn’t give him a heads up that I was coming down here. He’d want to know why. He’d want to know if something was wrong and where I’d been staying for the past couple of weeks, and what I plan on doing for the rest of my life. Ironically, he doesn’t want my life to mirror Mom’s, and Mom wants for me what she has. I don’t get it. Because of this, it’s taken me a few days to prepare answers for it all, and it’s better to just get it over with at a public place that I can leave, knowing he won’t cause a scene.
I open the door and find he’s not alone in his office. His secretary, who I don’t think I’ve met before, is sitting on the edge of his desk with a short pencil skirt and a blouse that looks like it’s missing a couple of buttons. The look on my face must reflect whatever Dad is thinking because it isn’t good, but my mind has been known to go places it shouldn’t be going these past few days, so I clear my throat and approach his desk.
“Baby, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Dad asks.
The secretary, or whoever she is, stands from the desk and straightens her skirt out over her hips, and she looks far more uncomfortable than I feel right now. Still, I can’t help but narrow my eyes at Dad for a second, waiting to see what his reaction will be. He wouldn’t do anything like that to Mom. He needs her too much. That and they’ve done a good job at putting on the appearance of this perfect—sickeningly perfect— marriage for as long as I can remember. Nothing about it has ever seemed perfect to me, but they could at least fool me with their contentment for each other. My family was a replica of Leave it to Beaver, the show from the 1950s that showcased a typical housewife and mother working her butt off to keep the house clean, the family fed, and most importantly her husband happy, all while the husband’s only job was to work and come home to a hot meal. That’s how our house was—is.
“Everything is fine,” I assure him. Kind of. “Can we have a minute?” I ask, looking over at the weird elephant in the room. That’s a nice name for this hussy-looking woman.
“We’ll finish our conversation in just a bit,” Dad tells her with a nod and a wink. Okay, that’s not weird or anything.
The woman slips out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. “Is she new?” I ask.
“Tatiana? Oh, no, she’s been here for a good six months now,” he replies, brushing my question off.
“So as much as this kills me to ask,” I say, pausing, needing this pause, wishing there was another option. “I could use a job.”
Dad leans back in his chair and the coils beneath him whine in response. In his relaxed position, he lifts his freshly shined penny-loafered feet up onto his mahogany desk. With his hands perched behind his head, he raises one brow. “What happened to the restaurant?”
“It’s a long story, and I’d rather not get into it right now. I just…I need a job, that’s all.”
“What kind of job would you like?” he continues.
Dad runs the largest head-hunter organization in southern Texas. It’s so big, he employs over 60 percent of the residents in this town. Dad’s always been a business mogul, but moving from an overly populated area to a smaller county has given him the opportunity to make big moves—or take over an entire area as it seems. I know the business has several different departments, branches, and dozens of job openings, but I didn’t consider he’d give me an option. “I guess whatever you think I’d be best doing.”
Dad removes his feet from his desk and leans forward, pressing his elbows down onto his desk. He looks somewhat amused by this conversation, and it annoys me. He likes to be needed. I’m pretty sure he wishes I was still a child that he could control, and now I’m giving him a little piece of that back.
“How about you do what your friend, Cali, is doing. She runs the construction job-placement office downtown. We have another office for administration job-placements and the manager of that one is about to go on a permanent maternity leave. She’s not due for a few more weeks so there would be time to train you.” Part of me was hoping he’d just stick me in Cali’s office and have me work with her, but I know he only has one manager in each location. She runs that office and has a couple of younger assistants helping her out. “You’ll have a couple of people working below you, and the pay starts at fifty-five thousand a year. Will
that work?”
Holy cow. I haven’t ever made that much money. I was making eighteen dollars an hour working at the restaurant, this is like a doubled raise. “That will work. When can I start?”
“Tomorrow or anytime in the next few days is fine. Just let me know what you decide. The office opens at eight-thirty.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the deep breath I’ve needed to take since I stepped inside.
“By the way, will Carolina be back to work soon? I heard her husband was in an accident.”
“I’m sure it will be soon.” I don’t know exactly what her plans are right now. She needs someone to care for Tango all day, and there’s no one to do that.
I lift my purse from the chair I had placed it down on and pull it over my shoulder. “You know, your mother and I drove by your house the other night, and it looked like you weren’t home. Is everything okay?”
I hate that they still check up on me like I’m a child. They know I broke up with Landon but they don’t know any of the reasons behind it, and I’m pretty sure they’d rather figure it out on their own rather than pry more than they already have. Not to mention, how would they know if I was home or not? Maybe I went to bed early, and the lights were just off?
“I was helping Cali out since her husband is still in the hospital,” I tell him, hoping to avoid more questions. “Thanks again for this opportunity. I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure, baby. I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses about a career. It’s important for you to have your own two feet to stand on. You shouldn’t have to depend on a man for that.” And there it is. The line I’ve been waiting for. “I want you to have a successful career, you know. That’s why I sent you to college. I want more for you, Sasha.” More for me?
“I got it, Dad.”
I turn for the door, but he clears his throat, which he often does when he wants my attention without saying so. “No hug for your dad?”
I shouldn’t feel this way about the man who participated in giving me a life, but this is how things have been between us. So, really, this is business as usual. I walk around the desk and wrap my arms around his neck. With his embrace held tightly, my focus falls upon his trash can and a neon piece of paper sticking out of it. Laying on the top of the filled trash is a used condom.
Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone Page 14
