Wreck You

by Jennifer Snyder

  Sunday, I organized the shop and planned the schedule for the week. My weekend hadn’t been busy, but not relaxing at the same time. Mojito had gotten more lovin’ than she’d had all week, and I’d had time to catch up on sleep and to work out. Bonus: I hadn’t thought about Lauren as much as I figured I would, either. The second my feet hit the floor Monday morning, she was all I could think about, and the nerves about the afternoon chewed away at my insides.

  “Worried yet?” Brent asked for the hundredth time. “You’ll see your sweet dildo queen in about an hour.”

  The desire to toss the screwdriver I held at his head was nearly unbearable.

  “Nope,” I lied.

  The same fears from this morning blasted through my mind. What if she didn’t remember? What if the sugar daddy who could afford to take her to Greece had proposed or something while they were away? I had no desire to look like an idiot. That was my biggest fear.

  “Don’t lie. You know—” Brent’s words cut off as the homeowner of the place we were working at came stumbling into the room with us.

  The guy had been drunker than a skunk when we’d first arrived at nine this morning, but that hadn’t stopped him from continuing to pound them back.

  His name was Bill Willard. We were rewiring his house. It had been gutted due to some sort of flooding. I wasn’t sure if there had been a leak in the water main or a giant hole in the ceiling. Either way, the entire house had to be gutted and redone due to mold and water damage. I’d never seen a place in such bad shape. The poor guy was living in a camper he’d parked out front while his house was being renovated.

  “If I give you guys a beer, can you keep it a secret?” Bill muttered. His face was blood red, and his eyes were barely open. “Those assholes downstairs aren’t answering me when I offer.”

  “Uh, I’d take it if I wasn’t on the job,” Brent said. I glanced at him, and he shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, this dude here is my boss.”

  “Oh.” Bill’s eyes widened, and he pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Okay, no. No beer for you. I didn’t even ask. I don’t want to get you into trouble, man.”

  “It’s fine.” Brent chuckled.

  Bill stumbled across the room to a chair beside the window. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he sat down and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket on his shirt. He swayed back and forth as he attempted to light it. How was this guy not passed out cold right now? Clamping my mouth shut, I continued to make up the light switch I’d been working on.

  “Hey.” Brent vied for my attention. “Let’s grab a few beers and stuff them in the van. I doubt he’ll miss them, and we won’t have to buy any on the way home.”

  “No way.” I shook my head.

  A loud thud from behind me made me nearly jump out of my skin. When I glanced back over my shoulder at Bill, he was no longer sitting in his chair smoking a cigarette. He’d fallen forward, and he was lying facedown on the plywood floor.

  “Damn, that was a solid hit,” Brent said.

  Rushing over to Bill, I pulled him up to a sitting position. His cigarette rolled across the floor, leaving a trail of ashes behind. “Brent, grab that cigarette and put it out.”

  “Got it,” he said.

  Bill groaned as I attempted to prop him against the chair he’d been in.

  “You okay, Mr. Willard?” I asked.

  “Should we call 911 or something?” Brent crouched down beside me to view him as well.

  “Get John from downstairs and see what he thinks we should do,” I told him, because I had no freaking clue.

  By the time Brent came back upstairs with John, I’d finally managed to get Bill propped up into a stable position.

  “Is he all right now?” John asked. His eyes were wide with concern.

  “He passed out.” I stood. Looking down at Bill, I crammed my hands into my pockets. “What should we do? Is there anyone you know of that we could call for him? I mean, I don’t want to leave him here like this.”

  John crossed his arms and stared down at Bill’s inebriated form. “I don’t know. He’s not married or anything.”

  “Should we try to get him to his camper? At least then he’d be comfortable while sleeping it off,” I suggested. My eyes trailed over the way he was slumped against the chair; his neck would definitely hurt when he woke.

  “No way,” Brent chimed in. “He’s already passed out. My vote is we leave him where he’s at.”

  “Maybe leaving him where he’s at is a good idea. We don’t want him getting violent when he realizes we’re trying to move him,” John said. “He’s wasted. Look at him.”

  It didn’t feel right to leave him where he was at, but holing him off in his camper didn’t seem right either. Why the hell had this guy gotten so shitfaced?

  “I’m gonna head back downstairs, but let me know if you need any help with him,” John offered.

  Brent waited until John left the room before he voiced his opinion on the situation. “This job description didn’t say anywhere in it we’d be babysitting drunks.”

  “I know.” I crossed the room to where I’d left my tools and packed them up. “And I hate to do this to you, but I need to leave you here and head to Lauren’s to fix her light real quick.”

  Brent hung his head back and groaned. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

  “You owe me a damn six-pack, then, because this is one bullshit job.”

  “Fine,” I said. “A six-pack.”

  “Don’t take too long, lover boy. I don’t want to be here with drunkard all night.”

  “You won’t be.” Hoisting my tool bag over my shoulder, I headed toward the stairs. It was the moment of truth with this Lauren thing, and I was nervous as shit, but couldn’t put it off any longer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  LAUREN

  Once I left Jimmy’s parents’ house, I lugged my suitcase to the corner of his street and hitched a cab ride to a nearby hotel. Thankfully, the driver spoke near perfect English. Central Hotel was the nearest place and looked incredible from the outside. Since this was still considered my birthday vacation, I decided to splurge and get a decent room. When I checked in, I was given a small, but clean and modern-looking room. After rescheduling my flight for something a little earlier, the weight of this trip from hell lifted off my shoulders. Flopping onto the comfy-looking bed, I decided to make the best of my remaining time in this beautiful country the way that I wanted. Searching around the room, I found a brochure booklet with a list of cafés that served breakfast. I figured I would grab a muffin or something and a coffee before scoping out this section of the city on my own. Slathering on some sunblock, I grabbed my purse and room key before heading out the door.

  Nabbing some breakfast from the first place I spotted, I ventured down the streets as I ate, taking in my surroundings. The flickers of anger I’d felt toward Jimmy had nearly faded out to be replaced by hurt. I didn’t think I would ever fully be able to wrap my head around the situation. It was unfathomable how this perfect, romantic birthday vacation had gone so wrong. I took a bite of my muffin, and wondered why I always seemed to set myself up for these massive heartbreaks. Maybe it was time I steered clear of guys who were playboys looking for a booty call.

  I always seemed to tell myself that I would next time, but then I would get pulled in by another guy who could be lumped into the same damn category. I needed to create a questionnaire guys had to take before our first date. Maybe this should be my new rule. The way that I currently felt was sure as shit motivation enough to get one started.

  For the remainder of the day, I walked around the streets and conversed with the locals in the hopes of learning about all the best spots to check out. The coolest place I visited was the Monastiraki Flea Market, where I purchased bracelets for each of my girls back home and a necklace for myself. Jimmy called only twice. I let both times go straight to voice mail. Even though I knew our relationship wasn�
��t concrete all the time, it was still surreal to me how little he seemed to care about losing me. I wasn’t expecting him to go door to door searching for me, but I did expect more than two measly phone calls.

  That night I watched the sun set over the sea with a large goblet of wine in my hand and reflected on everything—Jimmy, guys in general, life. This trip had better not set the tone for the rest of my twenty-second year.

  * * * *

  Come five Sunday morning, I was loading my suitcase into the trunk of my car and exiting the airport parking garage. Jimmy had called me once more, but I’d ignored it. If he planned to catch the original plane ride back, I wasn’t sure and I couldn’t care less. I was done with him. I hoped that he would lose my damn number.

  Pulling into the parking lot of my apartment complex, relief trickled through me. I left my suitcase in the trunk and headed straight inside. Opening the door, I noticed the mildew stench was gone, but it had been replaced with the weird chemical smell of new carpet and fresh paint. I didn’t bother to glance into my bedroom; instead, I headed straight for the couch, kicked off my shoes, and curled up with a blanket. I drifted to sleep in no time.

  A distant sound of something beating on something filled my ears, bringing me to that point where you’re awake, but not fully. Keeping my eyes closed, I listened for a moment, trying to decipher what I was hearing. A scraping noise startled me and I opened my eyes. Where was I? Disorientation clouded my mind for a brief moment before I remembered I was home. My front door opened, and I bolted upright on the couch. A scream spurred from my lips as I shifted to glare at the intruder—Ian.

  “What the hell are you doing? You scared the crap out of me!” I picked up the throw pillow beside me, and chucked it at his head. He caught it and laughed.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked and everything. Promise,” he said in that sultry sweet, country voice of his.

  “Well apparently you didn’t knock loud enough, because I didn’t hear you,” I snapped. Why was I snapping at him? God, I needed more sleep or an IV of coffee. Either one would suffice at this point. “What time is it?”

  “It’s a little after two,” Ian answered with a slight chuckle. He strutted from where he stood at the door toward me.

  My hand flew up to my hair, and I smoothed down the fizzed mess. Two, in the afternoon? Was it Monday? The seven-hour time difference between here and Greece had me feeling loopy and confused. So what, I’d gotten home on Sunday and slept until Monday afternoon? Dang.

  “I could have slept for another seven hours.” I yawned and stretched my arms above my head.

  Ian set the pillow on the coffee table. “I can hurry and fix the light, and then you can get back to catching up on your sleep. I guess Greece was amazing, huh?”

  All the emotions I’d bottled up to deal with after making it home swam to the surface of my mind. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying, dropped my gaze to the floor, and exhaled loudly.

  “Greece was amazing; the trip, however, was not,” I admitted.

  “What was so bad about it?” he asked. His question didn’t surprise me; he seemed to be the caring type. “I mean, it was Greece, another country. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  I opened my mouth to give him the lowdown on how horrible it had been, but was cut off by the muffled sound of my cell ringing. Tossing blankets, throw pillows, and random items of clothing around, I finally found it. Noticing it was my mom calling, I swiped the screen to answer it.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hi, sweetie.” Her excitement at hearing my voice overflowed through the phone. “You made it back all right, then?”

  “I did. I know I should have called when my flight landed, but I was exhausted and yucky feeling. All I wanted was to come home for some sleep,” I said.

  My eyes shifted to Ian. He cracked a small smile.

  “I’ll get to working on that light,” he said.

  “Who was that?” Mom questioned. “Was that Jimmy? It didn’t sound like him.”

  “No, that wasn’t Jimmy. It’s Ian. He’s here to fix the light in my bedroom.” Saying he was just the electrician seemed rude.

  “An electrician, huh? Now that’s a handy skill. Is he young? What about single?”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose between my index finger and thumb, I sighed. I knew what she was trying to do—set me up with someone she hadn’t even met. My mom wasn’t racist by any means. There was just something she had instantly disliked about Jimmy and our relationship. I assumed now it must have been that she could see through him, unlike me. She was always trying to set me up with someone, anyone, to get me away from him. “I’m not answering that. I’ll call you later and fill you in on the details of my horrible trip.”

  “Horrible? What happened, honey?”

  “Later, Mom. I’ll call you later. Promise. Love you, bye.” I hung up before she asked anything else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  IAN

  It only took me twenty minutes to put in the new fixture, and figure out there was nothing wrong with the switch. Pressing my lips together tightly as I stepped off the ladder, I put my tools back into my bag. Maybe I should have milked it a little longer, given her more time to remember our sort of date. She had to be severely jet-lagged to have slept for so long.

  Lauren stood in the kitchen when I came out. Her hair had been pulled up in a ponytail, and she’d slipped on a pair of thin pajama pants. The citrusy scent of the orange she was peeling floated through the air to my nose.

  “Done already?” she asked without looking at me. Her cell chimed, letting her know she had a new text. She wiped her fingers on her pants before picking it up to read it.

  “Yeah, it was easier than I let on, I guess.” I scratched the back of my neck. The entire reason I’d been so excited to be here hadn’t even come up yet. There was no way in hell I would bring it up on my own though.

  “What are you getting into tonight?” she asked, her thumbs flying across her cell screen.

  Maybe she’d remembered after all. “Not much, why?”

  “Because my friends and I are going out tonight. I know the last time I saw you I sort of agreed to a date—and I did mean it—I just don’t think I’m up for dating anyone new right now.” She popped an orange slice into her mouth and stared at me.

  A wide smile formed on my face, and I fought like never before to dim it down. “That sounds fine. I understand. We can even put it off, if you want?”

  I had to toss it out there. Even though as the words slipped through my lips, I prayed like hell she wouldn’t recant what she’d just offered.

  “No, it’s fine. I need to get my mind off some stuff. Having a few drinks with my friends and a cute country boy sounds like the perfect remedy for that.” She winked.

  “Cute country boy, huh?” The wide smile I’d been dimming down lit up my entire face at her words, and I didn’t give a shit. “That’s the first time anyone’s ever called me that.”

  She shrugged. “You know what they say, there’s always a first time for everything.”

  “True.” I shifted the tool bag I’d been holding to my other hand without dropping her gaze.

  Her face twisted into an unreadable expression.

  “You’re not gay, are you?” she asked.

  “No,” I scoffed. Had I done something to make her wonder? Reflecting back, there wasn’t a single thing I could find.

  “Any chance you have a kid stowed away somewhere?”

  I laughed. What was with her questions? “No, why?”

  “Just checking, I don’t want any surprises later on down the line with you.”

  Regardless of how good her later on down the line statement made me feel, I wondered if her sugar daddy had admitted to either of those things while in Greece with her. “Okay.”

  “Do you live at home still?”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Nope, I have my own place. Is this like twenty questions or something?
” I smiled.

  “Something like that.” She leaned against the counter and popped the last piece of her orange into her mouth. “I know you have a good job.”

  I could see her mentally checking questions off in her mind. Her brows drew together, creating cute little creases between her eyes as she continued to think.

  “Is this some dating no-no list you’ve created?” I asked.

  “Live and learn, right?” She shrugged. “This is the list I always say I’m going to ask before getting serious with someone, but then I let them sweep me off my feet and forget.”

  “Oh.” I set my tool bag down at my feet, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Please continue then.”

  “Do you sleep with any stuffed animals, baby blankets, or anything else a toddler would need before falling asleep?”

  I grinned and wiped my hand over my mouth to hide it. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She shook her head. “Dead serious. An ex of mine…well…never mind, just answer the question.”

  I blinked. Damn, what kind of weirdoes had she dated? “No, none of the above. Every now and then, my dog sleeps at the end of my bed, but that’s about it.”

  “Obviously you have a driver’s license,” she said, giving me the impression she was skipping down her list. “Um, you’re not into bondage or like code words and freaky crap in bed, are you?” she asked point-blank.

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Wow, that’s a bold question.”

  “A girl can’t be too careful. Trust me.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” I chuckled. “And my answer is no. Should I be worried about that with you though? I mean you are the one with the vibrator store beneath your bed.” Had those words really just come out of my mouth? Damn, that was a good one. Brent would be proud.