by Penny Dee
Slum it? What the fuck?
“Yeah, I guess that is what I’m telling you.”
She jutted out her hip to one side. “Yet, you just made out with me for the past five minutes?”
“It’s not that type of date,” I explained, although I had I feeling I desperately wanted it to be. “She’s just a friend.”
The words just a friend obviously eliminated the threat because Kristen stepped closer and tangled herself around me again.
“Tell her you’ve had a better offer,” she said, sliding her tongue up my neck, her hand wandering back to my crotch. “I could ring up a girlfriend and the three of us could have some real fun together,” she whispered in my ear.
Again, I unwound her from me. Even with her offer of a threesome, my chaste breakfast date with Harlow was more appealing.
“You’re serious?” she said, fixing me with a I can’t believe you’re turning me down glare. “I’ve driven all this way to slum it with you and you’re turning me away … for a friend?”
Again with the slum it … what the fuck was this chick’s problem?
Still, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Even if she was starting to behave like an arrogant brat.
“And I appreciate it,” I said, winking at her. “Want me to call you a cab?”
Her face darkened. Obviously she didn’t take disappointment very well. “You’re really turning me down? The hottest property in here?”
“I guess I am.”
She raised her chin, her eyes hard. “No Heath, I don’t want you to call me a cab. I don’t want you to call me period.” She snatched her purse off the table behind me.
I shrugged. “You do what you gotta do, babe.”
With a flick of her long hair she stormed off, disappearing into the dark club. Another happy Heath Dillinger customer. I shook my head and smiled. Yeah I felt bad because she was angry at me. But hey, it wasn’t always my fault.
I searched the club for Harlow, which took some time because I was stopped by various people who wanted to chat, some who I knew and others I didn’t. They were fans of the band and I appreciated their loyalty and talking with fans was something I usually enjoyed. But I was anxious to find Harlow. I hadn’t seen her since coming off stage and then Kristen had monopolized me for way too long.
Jesse was making out with Piper at the bar when I interrupted them. “Have you guys seen Harlow?”
“Yeah, she left about five minutes ago,” Piper said. “She came back from the bathroom, said she was tired and left.”
“She’s gone?” I felt crushed. She had left and I felt the bitterness of disappointment fill me. Oh fuck! Tell me she hadn’t seen Kristen mauling me across the room. “Was she alright? Was she pissed off or …”
Piper’s brow wrinkled and then smoothed. “She was fine. Just tired, I guess. It is almost three o’clock in the morning, Heath. And she just got off a plane from Savannah this morning.”
“Do you have her cell number?”
“No. I only just met her.”
My disappointment turned to concern. What if that was it? What if I never saw this girl again?
Christ, why was I so worked up about some chick?
“What is up with you?” Piper asked, sensing my anxiety. Her lips turned into an amused smile. “It’s not like you’re never going to see her again.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’ll be working at Fat Tony’s over the summer, so you’re bound to run into her again. She starts Monday and she’ll be doing the lunch time shift with me.”
An odd relief ripped through me. Cool. So she was working at Fat Tony’s. I nodded and failed at hiding how pleased I was. Under the scrutiny of Piper’s wise eyes, I made my goodbyes and walked to my car.
If Harlow started work at Fat Tony’s on Monday, then I’d be waiting when she finished.
* * * * *
HARLOW
“It’s called a hangover,” Bridge said, handing me a glass of water and two aspirin. “Hanging out in a club all night drinking beer and bourbon will do that to you.”
She sat on the edge of the bed next to me. The movement on the mattress made my brain cartwheel inside my skull. I looked at her as blood drained from my face and then I bolted to the bathroom to throw up.
“You know, you’re going to have to toughen up if you plan on hanging out with a band at a club till all hours,” Bridge called out, with what sounded like a smile in her voice.
I squeezed my eyes shut, threw up again, and then fell against the bathroom wall, cursing the invention of alcohol.
Bridge ducked her head around the corner. “Are you okay?”
Keeping my eyes shut, I whispered, “If you love me, you will kill me.”
In fear of the jackhammer starting up again in my brain I didn’t want to move.
Bridge knelt down in front of me. “Did Heath Dillinger do this to you?”
“No.” I opened one eye. “Why would you assume he was involved?”
“Because where there is trouble, there is usually Heath Dillinger.”
“He was too busy to even notice me,” I murmured, shutting my eye. My fractured brain rolled back to the image of the stunning redhead and how he was too consumed sticking his tongue down her throat to notice me leave.
“Well that’s not what I heard.”
“Heard? It’s nine am and you’ve already heard something?”
“I have my spies.” I felt her stand up. “You didn’t think I’d let you stay out all night and not have someone out there keeping an eye on you did you? I’m your older cousin. I take the responsibility of keeping you alive very seriously, you know.”
She grabbed my hands to help me up. “Come on, a shower will make you feel better.”
The motion of standing up sent waves of nausea crashing over me and I threw up into the toilet again.
“I’m sorry,” I groaned, forcing myself upright. “It’s my first hangover.”
“I know. And lucky me gets to witness it.”
Chapter Three
HARLOW
Fat Tony’s Pizza Palace was an Orange County icon. For more than three decades it had served the best tasting pizza this side of Tuscany.
It was also known for the bands that played on the small stage across the far side of the room. Unknown bands would play one night, followed by well-known bands the next. It was a lucky dip. You never knew what you were going to get. Fat Tony never advertised who would be playing. If the band wanted to advertise, it was up to them, but he never tried to attract customers with band names. He didn’t have to. His pizzeria was an icon, like the Rainbow Bar on Sunset, or The Roxy and the Troubadour.
Over the years some of the larger, more famous bands that sold out stadiums began to use it as a venue for side gigs, or surprise gigs. Fat Tony figured they liked to relive the early days, when a small crowd gave them more intimacy with their fans. After a few big names had done it, others followed and soon he had a wall full of signed plates from some of the biggest names in the music industry.
Fat Tony’s Pizza Palace, or The Palace, as it was called, was in desperate need of renovation. Dimly lit, with carpet that had seen better days, the interior was stuck in the seventies and the once shiny red vinyl in the booths that lined the walls had worn down to a dull sheen. But it was easy to forgive the weathered interior because of the atmosphere. If there wasn’t a band playing, the awesome jukebox across the room was always belting out something worth singing along to.
Five minutes into my shift I was positive I was going to love working there. Both Bridget and Piper were rostered on and they were guaranteed to make my time working there a lot of fun.
When Leo arrived, I knew without a doubt that I belonged there.
The uniform was simple; we either wore jeans or denim shorts and a top. Because I had never owned a pair of jeans (my mama didn’t allow denim in the house) Bridget had loaned me a pair of her denim shorts until I could go shopping for my own. They were short and
showed off more leg than my daddy would like. But they were comfortable and cool.
Leo nudged me on the ass with his hip as he strutted by.
“Hot patootie! Wait ’til the animals get a look at those pins … girlfriend, you’ll retire to the Bahamas on those tips.” And then he smacked his lips together and made noises like he was enjoying a delicious rack of ribs.
As far as jobs went, it was pretty easy. I took orders for pizza and drinks, sent them to the kitchen or the bar, and then served the customers with their orders when they were ready. It looked pretty straightforward.
Not that I’d ever done it before. My high-society affected parents were filthy rich and frowned upon the idea of their children working until after college when we would get proper jobs. It didn’t matter how much their unaffected children begged them. So when my friends were serving fries and pizzas, I was somewhere being taught how to be a proper Southern lady or raising funds for one of my Mama’s charities.
But this didn’t look difficult. In fact, it looked like a bit of fun.
Thankfully we started off slow so I could learn and work out a system. And by the time I was rushed off my feet taking orders and serving, I had pretty much found my groove. It was fun and I managed to score plenty in tips, which I think had more to do with the amount of leg I was showing, than my waitressing skills.
Overall it had been a pretty successful first day. That is, if you didn’t take into consideration the beer I accidently tipped over the hot looking guy sitting by himself in one of the booths near the jukebox.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” I gasped horrified, quickly grabbing some serviettes to wipe up the beer. I was sure he’d be pissed at me but when I looked up, he was smiling.
“It’s okay. No harm done.” He seemed more amused by my fussing than pissed about the beer all over his sleeve.
“I’m not usually such a klutz.”
“First day?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Either that or you wanted to get my attention.” His green eyes twinkled up at me. “Which I think would be very cool, by the way.”
Was he flirting with me?
“Let’s put it down to being my first day. And after this, hopefully not my last.”
“I promise not to tell … on one condition.”
I raised a brow. “And what’s that?”
He leaned forward and grinned. “You tell me your name.”
What was it with these Californian guys? Why did they feel they needed to blackmail me into telling them my name? Back in Georgia when we wanted to know someone’s name, we asked them.
I smiled. Because it made me think of Heath. Which was unexpected. Just like the butterflies in my belly.
“Harlow,” I replied, pushing Heath and the butterflies he gave me, aside.
He offered me his hand. “Nice to meet you Harlow. I’m Dean.”
“Nice to meet you too, Dean. Sorry about throwing your beer at you,” I joked and his grin grew wider as his eyes studied me.
“It’s no problem. It gave us the opportunity to meet. And for that I’m grateful.”
I threw the wet serviettes onto my tray. “I’ll be back with another beer and this time I promise not to throw it all over you.”
When I returned with a freshly poured beer, I noticed Piper had brought him his pizza in my absence.
“So Harlow, do you get a lunch break?” he asked. “Because I would love you to join me.”
I shook my head. Even though I was due for a break, I didn’t know what the policy was about dining with the customers. “I appreciate the offer but I’m not due for a break for a while. But you enjoy.”
He stopped me from leaving by putting his hand on my forearm. “How about dinner then? Or is the real reason you’re turning down this delicious pizza because you have a boyfriend? I imagine a girl as beautiful as you would have a boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “No. No boyfriend. And I didn’t come to California looking for one either.”
He nodded and after thinking about it for a moment, asked, “What about a guy who is a friend?”
I smiled. He was very cute. I nodded.
“Now that, I can handle.”
“Excellent. Then let me take you for coffee tomorrow.”
I relaxed a little, grateful I wouldn’t have to go into the whole spiel about not wanting to date anyone. Tomorrow was my day off and other than shopping for jeans, I really didn’t have much else planned. Plus, this guy was a hottie. And he seemed like a nice enough guy. Friendly. Funny. Easy going.
“Okay. Coffee sounds like fun.”
We made arrangements to meet at a coffee shop just down from the Pier the following day.
The lunchtime rush hit not long afterwards and I didn’t see him again until I was standing at the bar waiting for Leo to pour a couple of beers. He ducked his head around the corner on his way out the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at ten?”
I nodded, my cheeks flushed because I could feel Leo smirking next to me. Dean grinned and disappeared out the door.
Fully aware Leo had something smart-assed tumbling around on his tongue, I turned to him and warned, “Don’t you say a word.”
He looked at me with a flamboyant what me? and then mimed zipping his lips closed with his fingers.
“It’s just coffee. With a friend,” I insisted. When Leo didn’t reply and just stared at me like he was holding his breath, I sighed, frustrated. “Okay. Speak.”
He dramatically unzipped his lips. “Honey, his idea of coffee will get you pregnant.”
I threw a dishrag at him. “It’s not like that.”
He shrugged. “Hey, don’t sweat it, patootie. I like coffee. I’d coffee all day and all night if I could. I’d coffee for breakfast, lunch and for dinner.”
“Of course you would.”
He winked. “You just gotta ask yourself if he is who you really want to have coffee with.”
* * * * *
I worked until four o’clock and on my way home stopped in at the grocery store across the road to get something for dinner. There was a homeless man sitting in the sun on the steps outside the supermarket. He was unshaven, quiet and despite the heat of the afternoon he wore an army jacket. What looked like his life’s possessions were tied up in a bundle behind him. He strummed a guitar and his guitar case was open with only a handful of coins glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.
Before heading into the market I stopped in front of him, and dug into my pocket for what I had received in tips and handed him the roll of notes. There was close to a hundred dollars. He stopped strumming and looked up at me. I didn’t say anything to him but I nodded and he nodded back. He had kind eyes and I could see his face masked the pain and grief of whatever had led him to be there, on the side of the road, alone.
As I entered the supermarket I heard him say in a gravelly voice, “Thank you, Miss. God bless you.”
It was nothing. I’d grown up surrounded in wealth and I would never have to go without if I didn’t want to. I liked earning my pay, but my tips were best used by someone less fortunate.
Standing in front of the freezer section, I was too busy deciding which frozen TV meal was going to be my dinner to notice him until he spoke.
“Are you stalking me?”
Looking up I saw his reflection in the glass doors of the freezer. He was standing behind me, dressed in jeans, his sleeves pushed up to reveal strong, tattooed forearms. With his closed-lip smile and dimples the overall package was ridiculously hot.
“Stalking?” I turned to face him and flashed him a look of mild disgust. “Hardly.”
Blue eyes took in the length of me and then settled on mine. Penetrating. Magnetic. It was a look I felt all over me. His appreciation for my tiny shorts and tight shirt was reflected all over his amazing face.
“What happened to you the other night? Why did you run away?” he asked.
“Run away?”
Wait. Had he real
ly expected me to hang around and wait for him to finish mauling the girl in the red dress so we could go to breakfast together?
I raised a brow at his directness, and smiled. “Last I saw you were … preoccupied.”
When he realized what I was talking about, he grimaced. At least he had the courtesy to look uncomfortable.
“Oh … you saw that.”
Amused by his discomfort, I tipped my head to the side. “Yeah, I saw that.”
“Sorry, H-bomb,” he said sincerely. “She’s a friend from out of town … I hadn’t expected her to turn up …”
I smiled and shrugged. “It’s okay … you don’t owe me an explanation. It doesn’t bother me.”
His perfectly shaped brows drew in as he frowned. I don’t think he liked that I’d seen him with the redhead. Either that, or he didn’t like the idea that it didn’t bother me. I couldn’t be sure. But I think he was hoping for more of a response from me. Who knew with him?
His eyes dropped to the frozen dinners in my hand. “I didn’t take you for a TV dinner kinda girl.”
“It’s not by choice, believe me. But it’ll do until I can do a proper grocery shop.” I held up both boxes. “Mac and cheese? Or chicken parmigiana with roast vegetables?”
“Neither.” He shook his head and took the frozen dinners from me and put them back into the freezer. “C’mon. I still owe you breakfast,” he said closing the freezer doors.
“It’s five o’clock in the afternoon. A little too late for breakfast don’t you think?”
“Or early. Depends on which way you look at it.” He winked and started to head down the cereal aisle towards the front doors. “C’mon, I’m starving.”
I followed him out the front doors and into the late afternoon sunlight. When I saw the Harley, I faltered.
“Oh don’t be a baby!” he said climbing on.
Hesitantly, I followed him, awkwardly straddling the back of the Harley.
“I guess it’s one way to get between my legs,” I grumbled as I tied my hair into a knot on top of my head.
