Cocky Romantic: A Hot Romantic Comedy Stand Alone (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 4)

by Faleena Hopkins

  I feel a punch to the back of my head.

  It’s not the first time that’s happened, so I don’t go down. Reeling around and bending, I take the guy to the floor by wrestling him at the waist and knocking his legs off balance with my foot hooked around the back of knee. His tail bone smacks hard onto the ground and he shouts in pain. I clock him in the head.

  Rising up I grab a guy off my brother while two guys fight each other behind me. Justin’s punching one huge, bearded guy while another is trying to make him pass out by choking him from behind. I take that guy down in three punches. As he goes unconscious he releases my brother’s neck. Justin knees the bearded guy in the balls, then elbows him hard, cracking his nose open.

  Justin gasps for air and locks on me.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” I growl, waving the girls over with my hand, shouting at them, “Come on!”

  Justin and I make a path for them by fighting our way through.

  Simone screams. Even over a bomb detonating I’d recognize that voice. I flip around and see one of those guys she was dancing for earlier is now carrying her off. Sarah’s smacking the guy’s back but he’s not feeling it. His mind is set. He has what he wants and he’s not going home without it.

  Sarah’s wild-eyed, yelling, “JASON! HELP!!!”

  I have to shove past and punch people to get over there. He’s made some distance and the place is in riot mode. When I finally reach them I hit the guy so hard both he and Simone topple over.

  Justin leaps and grabs Simone. I kick the fucking asshole who tried to kidnap her to the ground.

  Sarah grabs my bicep. “Look!” She points the way to where people are so distracted by battling each other they’ve unwittingly left a narrow path between them and the bar.

  I grab her hand, lacing our fingers tightly together, as Justin carries Simone.

  She’s curled into his shoulder, shaking with sobs.

  Checking on Sarah I glance down to see her chin set in brave determination. Her eyelashes rise and almond-colored eyes lock onto mine.

  “You okay?”

  She squeezes my hand and nods once. “Yeah.”

  I tighten my grip and push a guy back with my other hand. He was about to crash into us. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  Sarah

  The side door of the bar has shut behind us, muting the violence within as the cool night air comforts me.

  Justin sets Simone down and pushes tear-soaked flaxen hair away from her face. “Can you walk?”

  On a sniffle she nods.

  Radiating anger, Jason releases my hand and storms over to her. “What the fuck did you think you were you doing in there?! You didn’t know those guys! You and Sarah could have been hurt! If we hadn’t come in—”

  “—Just stop.” She pushes him with one hand and walks away from us.

  The twins are bloody and their clothes are a wreck. I’m so grateful to them I can barely think.

  Muttering, “I’ve got this, guys,” I catch up with Simone.

  She’s blinking heavily, trying to stop the crying. Slipping my arm around her, we walk onward in silence while the brothers remain behind us, bodyguards determined to protect us from harm. It’s very late and this is when the crazies come out to play. We just found that out. I’m having a hard time coming to terms with what just happened.

  The early part of the night is kind of a blur. Right before Jason and Justin showed up I heard the guys saying something about a gang bang. But she had talked me onto that table and I was off kilter when I heard their plan. Out of my element.

  I guess I didn’t really take their gang-bang comment seriously, either. I thought they must be joking around, because the idea was so foul and ridiculous to me it didn’t register as a possibility, or as something I should protect us from. I felt fear start to nag but everything was moving in slow motion. The many vodka-cranberries had clawed into my brain, making mush of everything I felt and knew.

  Then I lost my balance and was suddenly in Jason’s arms, like something out of a dream. I couldn’t understand how he got there. The look on his face was horrible. What must he think of me? Does he think I’m easy? Because I’m not and I want him to know that dancing for strangers is not like me at all. I hated every second of it. I just wanted to feel attractive, so I went against who I really am.

  I bet he thinks I’m…

  Sarah, what are you doing with this mudslide of thoughts about him? He’s off limits. The way he handled himself in there was amazing. He’s like a superhero and so out of your league.

  Jason is not a superhero.

  He’s just a man.

  Stop it.

  Glancing back, I meet his eyes for a brief second and feel my heart skip as he locks onto me. With my stomach sinking I turn back around.

  He saved Simone, not you. He cares about her.

  She’s the one he just yelled at. You only get that furious when you care.

  It’s her he wants. And you need to let this go.

  Glancing over my shoulder again I meet Jason’s eyes. He’s already staring at me and his face is all bruised up. There’s a volcano brewing in him and it’s gonna blow soon.

  Justin’s walking with his eyes on the sidewalk, just as bruised up.

  They really took a beating for us. And they gave worse than they got. Watching them kick the shit out of everyone within reach was scary and more than a little hot.

  I turn back to watch where we’re going since centuries of tree growth have sprung roots through the sidewalk and our path is not smooth. Tightening my hold on my friend, I whisper, “You okay?”

  “I’m sorry,” she trembles.

  “You didn’t know those guys would be like that. You were just trying to have fun. I should have been more vigilant. It’s my job.”

  A sniffle escapes her and she burrows closer into my side.

  I call back to the twins, “Let’s get an Uber.”

  Justin mutters. “Fuck that. I only use Lyft.” He pulls out his phone and we stop walking. Simone and I turn to wait, huddled together. Her liquid blue eyes slowly rise to meet Jason’s glare. I watch him soften under her wounded gaze and I can’t deny that my heart squeezes in disappointment as he takes his hands from his pockets and comes to her.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes,” she whispers, the picture of feminine vulnerability. And so unlike me.

  He licks his lips in thought, frowning as he nods. “Good.”

  “Thank you for saving me,” she says.

  He glances to me. To protect myself from the feelings swarming inside I steel my eyes at him. It’s a look I’ve given him a million times – complete disdain. He blinks at me and straightens up, glancing back to Simone before returning to his brother.

  Justin tells us all, “They’ll be here in two minutes,” his voice deep and emotionless. He moves his sore jaw around and stares off at the cars, waiting.

  Jason exhales through his nose, fading away into thought, too. Simone closes her eyes and lays her head on my shoulder. This movement in his peripheral vision makes Jason look over at us. He lingers on me a moment. A new frown pierces his brow before he looks away.

  I wish so much that I could go back in time. Not just to before I said yes to getting on that table. Not even to before I said yes to all those cocktails when I knew what I really wanted was to lay my head on a pillow to make this day disappear. No, I want to travel back to before the night when that up-and-coming rap star told me about this great music producer he’d met in Atlanta.

  If I could, I would steer Simone away from the club she was performing at, right after she sang her last note. I’d avoid shaking that guy’s hand and giving him my card so he could email me Jason Cocker’s website.

  That way none of this would ever have happened. And by ‘none of this’ I mean the ache in my chest I’m having right now as I stare at Jason’s bloody hand, wishing mine was still in it.

  Lyft’s infamous bright pink mustache on the
approaching Prius’s dashboard has Justin waving for the driver to come to our side of the street. Other drunken people are attempting to claim the car but Jason shouts at them, pointing at his face, “You really want to fuck with us?”

  They back off. On alert, the driver bends to look at our group. If Simone and I weren’t with the twins there’d be no way he’d let the two of them inside his spotless car. But she’s red-eyed and he quickly U-turns over, rolling a window down to ask, “Everything okay?”

  “There was a fight. We need to get the girls to their hotel,” Justin tells him.

  “Of course. Good thing you guys were there,” he says, correctly reading the twins as heroes since Simone and I are not trying to escape and are clearly shaken.

  Our hotel is not far, turns out. Before I even have a chance to enjoy sitting down, the silent car is pulling curbside. Simone and I climb out and Jason slides over. As I go to close the car door I mutter an embarrassed, “Thank you for what you did back there. For saving Simone.” I go to close the door but he stops it with a straight arm. His familiar stubbornness is staring back at me.

  “I didn’t save her. I saved you.”

  My lips part and he holds my look a moment before closing the door. The driver pulls away and I watch Jason turn to Justin to say something I can’t hear.

  As the taillights get consumed by the darkness Simone calls after me in a small voice, “You coming?”

  “Yes,” I answer, pulling away from their departure.

  “You got the key?” she mumbles.

  “Of course.” We trudge up the steps with me digging through my handbag for the plastic card the clerk gave me.

  Simone sighs, “What a night.”

  “Yeah…” I whisper, my mind on Jason’s cryptic words.

  I didn’t save her.

  I saved you.

  She glances to me. “You can’t find it?”

  “Oh. Sorry. Forgot I was looking.”

  She nods and whispers, “Yeah, I’m in shock, too.” The sliding doors open for her and she walks through. But I stop a moment and stare off down the street, the Prius long gone now.

  I didn’t save her.

  I saved you.

  “Sarah!” she calls over her shoulder.

  With the key finally in my fingers I run in. “Sorry. Coming!”

  Sarah

  Simone groans, “Oh God, close the curtains!”

  Morning light is streaming over our faces in the queen size bed we shared. Since we were booked to stay here just the one night we opted to save money. I tend to hog the covers so they’re mostly on me and she’s sprawled out in her panties plus the blouse she wore last night.

  “You stink,” I grumble into the pillow.

  “So do you,” she chuckles then holds her head and says, “Ow!!!”

  “Alcohol is oozing from our pores.”

  “So gross,” she groans. “Close the curtains.”

  Sighing I flop off the bed and trudge over, pulling the cord violently to the left. Blessed darkness descends upon us and all is right in the world again. Crawling onto the bed in my favorite oversized t-shirt and cotton panties, I release all of my muscles and collapse atop the comforter because I’m hurting too badly to lift and crawl under it.

  My face is smooshed as I ask, “What time is it?”

  Her snoring is my answer. Guess those curtains did their magic quickly.

  Thanks to the pounding in my skull sleep eludes me. It’s punishment meant to dissuade further forays into cocktail-city. I silently vow never to drink again. I will forget this promise just like the other times. But I like to live in denial sometimes, just like everyone.

  Slapping the nightstand I blindly look for my phone. My fingers touch the tip of it, which makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery since I barely had to move to find it. My arm has never been this heavy. Squinting at the screen I see it’s 10:37 a.m. before I drop the phone by my head and try to will the heartbeat in my brain to go away.

  “Stop it,” I grumble to the pain. Suddenly I shoot up in my bed so fast that I grab my noggin with both hands and cry out in agony.

  Simone squints at me, “What? God!”

  “We have to go to the airport!”

  She mumbles into the bed, “Our flight isn’t until 5:00 p.m.”

  “No! Remember, you changed the flights? Remember talking to Mark before we fell asleep?”

  She peers at me with one eye. “No.”

  “Well, you did. He called you and said the new flight for Detroit was for 12:30 p.m. and that’s only two hours away. We have to be all the way over to the airport an hour prior.”

  She rolls her head away from me. I’m just looking at a blonde rat’s nest now. “We have all our shit in one carry-on. We can get there later.”

  “Oh fuck,” I groan, climbing out of the bed and hitting the keys of the hotel phone.

  “Front desk, good morning!”

  “Questionable. Listen, do you have Advil?”

  “We have Tylenol.”

  “No. I need a blood thinner and I need it now. My head is going to explode.”

  “Let me check.” Hold-music comes on and then vanishes at her return. “I found a sample pack at the bottom of my purse.”

  “I fucking love you!”

  She laughs. “I’ll send it up.”

  “Great. Thank you!”

  I’ve been in enough hotel rooms to know they see which room is calling before they pick up. This gives me relief to know that help is on the way.

  “Simone!” I cry out, rushing into the bathroom. “Oh no you don’t! You always do this. We are not running through another fucking airport!”

  An hour and fifteen minutes later we are running through another fucking airport.

  “Out of the way!” I shout at a family of seven whose pace is making dying snails jealous.

  They don’t hear me so I leap over one of their rolling suitcases.

  And fall flat on my face. “Shit!”

  Simone starts laughing at me, running with our suitcase clattering behind her. She was able to get through the slender space their pause made.

  “You okay?” the mother asks me, aghast.

  “Totally. Happens to me all the time,” I mutter, scrambling to get my things back in my handbag. I meet the eyes of a young boy whose grin is absolutely adorable. To him I mutter, “Hi cutie!” He waves at me and I take off.

  At the gate a line of nearly two hundred people are boarding. Panting, Simone and I check our boarding passes for the seats and freeze. “He got us First Class,” she whispers, holding hers up.

  I offer mine up for her to see, too. “Holy shit.”

  She grins and makes a loud whoop noise, then grimaces and holds her head. “Do we have time to go back to that store we just passed for more drugs?”

  I’m blinking from the line to my boarding pass, then back to the line. “We’re in First Class, baby, they can’t leave without us. Stay here.” Smoothing down my hair I saunter to the woman scanning the passes and ask, while pointing to Simone, “We’re in First Class. We’re also incredibly hung-over and need Advil. Can you wait for us?”

  The tight-bun, tight-lipped, tight-everything’d woman glances to me like she hates her job. “The plane doesn’t wait for anyone.”

  “Come on! Have you never been here?” I’m pointing at my head.

  She sighs, “You have time if you run.”

  I shout to Simone, “Run!” and take off after her.

  Now we’re laughing our asses off, the rolling suitcase thump-thumping along in her hand.

  There’s a huge line of people buying magazines, paperback books, water and those neck cushions we all seem to forget we need until the last minute.

  Simone and I rush around looking for our treasure and shout when we find it. I swear I’ve never had this much fun in a convenience store in my life.

  We rush to the front of the line and simultaneously beg and plead to cut in front.

  Simone is giving the
batty-eyelashes.

  I’m sticking my amble chest out maybe for the first time in my life.

  Our ridiculousness is infectious.

  “Hey, weren’t you that singer at the Civic last night?” a woman asks.

  Simone beams, “Yes!”

  “You were incredible! Let her go ahead!”

  “Oh, thank you!”

  The guy who was about to be rung up steps to the side and we shove the package o’ pills at the checker and both say at the same time, “Thank you so much!”

  This sends us into more laughter. The checker makes a face like she thinks we’re a little drunk still. And maybe we are. But who cares because we have a plane to catch!

  “Let’s go!” Simone shouts, handing over the pills and change while she grabs the suitcase.

  As we’re running back to our gate I’ve got two hands full and my purse is bouncing off my shoulder. There are only three people left in line when we jump into it, panting like crazy.

  Simone holds her boarding pass out to be scanned and side-eyeballs me with a huge smile. “Aren’t you glad we showered now?”

  Laughing, I admit, “For so many reasons.”

  The seats in First Class are amazing. We have two next to each other, spread out and with tons of legroom. No one is beside us. Before the plane even begins to taxi down the runway a flight attendant who loves mascara a little too much, asks if we would like wine or a cocktail. Simone and I hold her look and shake our heads.

  “Water would be great,” I tell her while thrusting out my palm. “We have to take these.”

  Simone starts giggling and I grin at her as the woman heads away.

  When the plane starts moving I look behind us and see the cramped quarters of Coach Class. Simone is looking at her phone when I lean to whisper, “I feel bad being up here.”

  Her blonde eyebrows twitch. “Why?”

  “Because it’s so much more comfortable, but we’re all going to the same place.”

  Scrolling through social media and hitting ‘like’ on people’s tagged photos of last night, she mutters, “I’ve earned it.”