by Jenny Hayut
As I finish my fourth pancake (no willpower), my phone chirps with a new text message. I walk across the kitchen and grab it from the charger. I have a text from “Holton.”
“Hey, babe, what time do you get off work? Want to see you. I know what went down last night. I can give you space but when I get you, I get all of you. Whatever shit is left over in your head, you’ve got to clear out of there. If we gotta talk it out then we talk it out...Call you later...H.”
What the hell does he think happened last night? And his ass is totally taking control again. Already. I’ve got to stop this.
I debate for a second then text him back.
“Last night I wasn’t me. Sorry. It won’t happen again. I get off at six today but Cass and I are going to The Rox tonight. One of the bands I like is playing. A lot of shit is in my head that isn’t ready to come out.”
I instantly get a response.
“Don’t be sorry, I loved every fucking minute of it. Am I invited? I’ll work it out of your head.”
I type back.
“Galaxy Dynamite. Ok.”
God. Why can’t I stand my ground? Shit.
I don’t get a response and after a few minutes, I figure he’s not going to respond. I jump in the shower and get ready for my day.
Chapter 11
I walk into work, hoping Beth hasn’t said anything to anyone about seeing Holt and me together.
Katy calls out, “Morning, Niki.” She’s the only who still calls me by my first name since my promotion. Everyone else has taken to calling me Dr. Stringer, which drives me insane. I’m still the same person, just a different job title.
“Morning,” I reply hesitantly.
“So I heard you had a long night last night?” She smirks.
Seriously? It didn’t take Beth twelve damn hours before she ran her mouth about what she’d seen. I try to steer her off in another direction. “Yeah, we were pretty busy, but I managed to get outta here by twelve. Miffy came through banged up last night. How’s he doing today?”
Katy doesn’t take the bait. “Um, I wasn’t talking about work, Niki.”
Damn it, here we go. I can’t even make it to my office before getting attacked by the firing squad. She doesn’t give me a moment to react, to speak as she begins to giggle.
“I heard you were at Sammy’s with our Mr. Badass-dripping-of-pure-sex new client, and that the two of you looked like you were having a serious conversation.”
I don’t answer her. I can’t believe Beth actually came to work and blabbed like this.
“Where’s Beth?” I abruptly ask.
Her laughter dies, and she gives me a quizzical look, as if she doesn’t understand my anger. “Um, I think she’s in the back. In one of the prep rooms.”
I don’t give her a chance to question me. Without even dropping my stuff off in my office, I barge into the prep room.
She looks up with a gasp.
“Beth, I need to see you in my office. Now.”
Shock and fear are written all over her face.
I feel bad for, like, a second, but then remember why I don’t want talk of me and Holt to spread. This isn’t me, though, and I’m glad no one else is around to see my rage. He’s not even here, and yet he is, making me act out of my character, and at work, with my friends, my coworkers. Yep. No fucking control.
I don’t turn back as I walk toward my office, but I hear her hesitant footsteps. Damn it, I’ve scared the hell out of her. Shit. I make it to my office and throw my bags on the floor. After she shuffles in, I close the door behind her.
“Beth, look, I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak about my private life here at work. What you saw last night isn’t what you think. I apologize for being dishonest with you before, when you asked me about Mr. Maddox. He was someone in my life a long time ago and now he’s back in town. He asked me out to dinner so we could catch up.”
Beth looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry, Dr. Stringer. It won’t happen again.”
I can tell I’ve hurt her feelings, but I don’t know what to say because I really am upset that she opened her big mouth. Well, at least now she knows where I stand and hopefully she won’t do it again. Not that I’m planning for there to be an “again” with Holt, but knowing how totally out of control I am when he’s around, it’s more likely than not. He’s proven that one too many times already since he came back. If he wants there to be an “again,” there’s going to be an “again.” Ticking time bomb was I.
For the rest of the day, Beth avoids making eye contact with me. She even goes to the extent of switching with one of the other technicians so she’s not working directly with me. Hopefully, she’ll get over it. She is, after all, an excellent tech, and I truly enjoy working with her.
By the end of my shift, even Katy’s acting standoffish. I guess because she doesn’t understand why I went off the way I did. I can tell she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. They just don’t get it. Maybe at some point, with Katy at least, I’ll explain why I don’t want to have a connection with Holt. Why it can’t happen. Why no one should encourage it.
I’m cleaning up the files for the day when my phone chirps with a new message. I catch my breath, and goosebumps break out on my arms at the thought that it may be Holt, but I’m disappointed to see Cass’s name.
“We should get dressed up tonight. Whatcha think?”
I never complain about a reason to dress up. I have lots of girly clothes and, after being in scrubs all day, every day, getting girly is a welcome thought. I text back with an okay, and she responds that we should get our hair done too, just because.
I laugh and call her instead of texting back. “Whatcha up to, Cass?”
“Nothing, honey, I just thought you might need it. Let’s meet at Lita’s when you get off, ‘kay?” she says cheerfully.
“Okay, Cass, but I’m not doing the eighties look, no matter how much you think I rock it. It isn’t happening.”
That gets a chuckle out of her. “Okay, no eighties mega rock star. Promise. Love you. See you at Lita’s.”
Cass is always trying to mold me into this eighties punk rocker she says I’m destined to be. I’m quite comfortable in my lace and cowboy boots or my rocker tee with jeans and chucks. I really don’t have a sense of style. I wear what I think is pretty and looks good on me. Cass and Ang, on the other hand, rock the latest fashions from head to toe. I like their style, and they work it. It just isn’t for me.
The hair salon, Lita’s, is where we love to go when we’re looking to get girlied up. The owner, Lita Morris, is awesome and has mad skills. Her parents knew what they were doing, pegging her with the name of a serious badass rocker.
She shares my huge love of music, and we always get caught up talking about the latest bands and who’s playing at The Rox. She also has her own sense of style that doesn’t really conform to the latest trends, but she manages to work everything she wears—lots of leather and lace. She cusses a lot, drinks even more. She has tats, and she doesn’t take shit. A true badass, and someone I secretly wish I could be more like.
None of us know the whole story, but word is she has a jacked up history full of heartbreak and loss, and she came to Coral Springs attempting to start over. Turns out, her skills with hair won over everybody in town, and she started her very own, very successful hair salon at forty-one.
After being at Lita’s for two hours, and making plans with her to meet that night for drinks, me, Cass, and Ang walk out, rocking our new dos, and head home to continue with our girlification.
****
I reach for my short denim miniskirt, because in it, there’s no hiding my curves. I can’t lie to myself, the thought of Holt seeing me in it (if he even shows) drives me to wear it. I don’t know what I’m doing, I just know what I’m feeling. My confidence is slowly, slowly coming back out of the shadows. And I know why. Holt.
I grab my ripped-to-shreds Galaxy Dynamite shirt that’s torn so much in the back, it
pretty much exposes my whole back. I throw on my cute cowboy boots and stick a belt around my shirt. I do my makeup, which takes me all of five seconds, and walk out to sit on the couch and patiently wait for Cass and Ang to finish getting ready. Like always.
Is he even going to be there tonight? A part of me desperately doesn’t want him to be, but the other part, the part that has me putting on this miniskirt, wants to see him again. My guess is he will be, and will be continuing with his hunt. The hunt that ends with me in his bed. I can almost feel his hands and mouth on me.
The girls finally finish, after what seems like hours, and we make our way to The Rox.
It’s crowded tonight, not surprisingly. I’m not the only one who’s taken a liking to Galaxy Dynamite.
“Hey, did you hear Gavin and the guys might be getting a record deal?” Cass asks as we make our way to the line forming out front.
“Yeah, looks like the word is out too.” I point to the long line of waiting fans.
“Katy was telling me they had bigwigs coming out to see how they were on stage.”
All my years of coming to The Rox have taught me something about music. It’s not just your sound, it’s how you look, what you wear, how you interact with your fans. The whole package. I’m excited for Galaxy, but sad too, because if they get a deal, they won’t be at The Rox as often, if at all.
As we stand outside, waiting to get in, I start searching. Standing under the old movie-theatre-looking lit up marquee that gives The Rox its character, I look for the silhouette of him. But I don’t find it. He’s not here. Disappointment curls in my stomach almost instantly.
As we walk in, we head to the bar to grab drinks, which is where we find Lita talking with Mike, one of the bartenders, and Sandy Barnes, the owner of The Rox. She and her husband are both here tonight, probably to see the bigwigs’ reaction to Galaxy. On stage is a rock group with their version of Whitesnake’s “Still of the Night,” and the crowd loves it, but I think it’s more because of the way the lead singer looks. He’s pumping out the lyrics while bending down, kissing the women across the front of the stage.
I turn my attention back to Lita, who’s laughing with Mike about something. I’ve never thought about it until now, but they kind of look cute together. I make a mental note to ask if Mike’s dating anybody. He’s pretty badass himself and helps keep the hot guy lurkers in check if they get out of hand. But can he handle badass Lita? Something tells me he probably can.
The girls and I get our drinks and start chatting with Sandy. The chance doesn’t come very often. On the nights she’s here, she’s always running around, making sure everything’s going smoothly. Having her to ourselves for the moment, we’re enjoying her company.
“Roxy is doing so good at Julliard. She’s coming home next month for her break, and we can’t wait.” Sandy’s talking about their only daughter, Roxanne—The Rox’s namesake. You can see by the glow of her face, the glimmer in her eyes, that she’s so proud of her daughter for following in their footsteps, with their love of music.
“Where’s my dance partner at?” Lita asks, talking about Clay. The two of them together. God. No filter.
I laugh. “He’s on his way. He had a photo shoot tonight.”
“Let’s go, before some numbnuts grabs our spot,” Cass says.
Lita follows us over, and we settle onto our stools, which have a perfect view of the stage. Our spot is the best seat in the house, not to mention close to the dance floor.
The long-haired boys on stage finish up their set, and the stage guys are getting it ready for Galaxy.
“Be right back. Gonna get another round before they’re on,” I shout to Cass.
I run up to the bar and wait for Mike to bring the beers over. I stop breathing as someone wraps two tight, chiseled arms around my waist.
“Like the shirt,” he whispers in my ear.
His sudden closeness, and the heat of his breath on my skin, makes me dizzy. God. Out of nowhere. His body is pressed up against me, a wall of rock-hardness.
I twist around and break away from his hold to look up at him. The music filling the room—“Back in Black” by AC/DC—totally fits the moment. As I take him in, I try my best to remember to breathe. He smells absolutely fucking incredible.
“Hey, baby,” he says, as I follow his eyes taking me in, looking at me with the same hunger I have for him.
“Hey. You’re here.”
“You’re here, right?”
“Yes,” I say, confused.
He slants his eyes and grins. “Then where else would I be?”
Yeah, forgot to breathe. I stumble on my words but manage to spill out, “The girls and I are, um, over there.” I point toward our table, seeing the girls watching us.
“Okay.”
As Mike slides the beers over to me, he glances up at Holt then back at me. He doesn’t say a word, but I know that look: I got your back if you need me. I start walking to my table, but make the mistake of turning to sneak a look at Holt. He’s still there, leaning against the bar, watching me. Shit. I turn back around, trying to keep it together, but I can feel my hips swaying as if they have a mind of their own and know he’s watching me. No. Fucking. Control.
“Who the hell was that hot piece of man you were talking to, girl?” Lita asks.
“Nobody.”
No way in hell I want to explain to her how he’s the man who stole my heart, lost it, and is now trying to get it back.
“Really?” she asks, raising her brows and grinning.
“Yeah, really.”
“So you don’t care if I talk him up?”
“No, no, have at it.” A knife twists in my gut, but—as much as my body betrays me when he’s around—I can’t go there with him again.
Holt eventually makes it over to the table, just as Clay shows up for the night. The two exchange looks, but don’t speak. Clay grabs the stool beside me, leaving Holt standing there awkwardly for a moment until Lita speaks up.
“This one’s not taken.” She points to the empty barstool beside her.
Cass looks at me, questioning, then back at Lita, whose attention is all on Holt.
I can feel his eyes on me when she invites him over, but I don’t dare meet his gaze. He hesitates for a moment then walks over to sit next to her. I pretend I’m talking to Cass as I listen to Lita introduce herself. I figure it’s safe, so I dart a glance in his direction, only to find Holt’s eyes on me. He’s grinning.
I quickly turn away and get back into my pretend-I’m-listening conversation with Cass. I hear Lita start to ask him getting-to-know-you questions, isolating the two of them from the rest of us.
Yeah, good luck with that.
He doesn’t give away anything personal. Ever. Or maybe that was just with me.
“They look good together,” Clay says, leaning in, whispering in my ear.
I cringe. I honest-to-God cringe at those words.
Jesus, Niki.
I turn to look at Clay, trying to figure out the sudden change of him not wanting to see Holt and me lip-locking. When he leans in and starts twirling my hair, I figure it out. He’s playing the game. He wants Holt to think I’m his. Shit.
He leans in further and kisses me square on the lips. I freeze. I don’t know what my head is spinning at more—fear and that always-present anxiety from being taken off guard, or that my best friend just kissed me, which he’s never done, or feeling that all-too-familiar heat coming from across the table. He’s watching.
I don’t dare look over his way. I try to play it cool, but it’s really hard when I can see, out the corner of my eye, that both Cass and Ang are jaw-dropped, staring at me and Clay.
I’m still looking at Clay like a deer in headlights when he leans in and whispers, “Was that good? You think he believed it?”
“I’ll be right back.” I get up from the table, nearly falling from my shaking legs.
I want to run. Run. But I remain calm and slowly walk toward the bathroom.
>
Within seconds, Clay is behind me. “Niki-cakes, wait up.”
I keep walking, trying to get to where Holt can’t see me. When I cut the corner to the bathrooms, I turn and glare at Clay. “What the hell was that?”
“Sweetheart, I was doing it for him.”
I grit my teeth and raise my brows at him. Angry as fuck. “Damn it, Clay. You know how I am.”
He presses a fist to his forehead and shakes his head. “Shit. Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Damn it, I just keep fucking up, don’t I?”
I let out a sigh, knowing I can’t be mad at him. “It’s okay.” I sigh again. “You just spooked me. I wasn’t expecting it. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Clay stands there, pain in his eyes.
I’ve done it again. Made him feel like shit. For his sake, I suck up my tension and push it aside. “Really, sugarlips, it’s okay.” I punch him on his shoulder and let out a giggle.
That helps ease his nerves a little, it seems, because he gives me a smile. “So how’d I do?”
“What? You mean with the kiss or with Holt’s reaction?”
Clay laughs and cocks his head to the side. “Both.”
“Pretty sure you best get your posse formed before leaving, because I think that kiss just put you on his list. Was it just me, or did you feel it too? It was like the doors to hell had been opened up. I could almost feel the flames on my face, coming from across the table.”
“No, love, that was from my kiss.” He smirks.
I punch his shoulder again and laugh. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about, Mr. Winters.”
“Ha. Then maybe I should do it again. But then, what would be the point? I mean, Holt can’t see us from here, so that would be just weird, right?”
“Right. And I’d rather not have to visit you in the hospital either.”
We both break out in laughter.
“Okay, going to the bathroom. Try not to get yourself killed.”
“I’ll do my best, sweetheart.”
Inside the bathroom stall, I break. Goddamn it, I thought I was better. I almost lost it out there with Clay. I wrestle with the inevitable, but deep down, I know I have a phone call to make.
