More than a Fling: A Romance Collection

by Quinn, Jillian

  Now, I have to put my feelings aside and do my job. My career is on the line. This interview could be a step in the right direction, the distraction I need right now.

  * * *

  Two hours later, I walk through the front door at Old City Records. Wearing a skirt, boots that lace-up to my knees, a black tank that appears as though I taped it to my body, and a jean jacket, I look the part of grunge rocker chick. The holes that Ethan never fails to give me shit about are interspersed along my jacket, complete with rock band patches I have collected over the years.

  If Ethan wanted dress-up Barbie, he should have chased down another puck bunny. Instead, he chose me as his next victim. Like most diseases, he’s hard to shake from my system. I wish I could pop a few pills and cleanse him from my body. But Ethan has a strong hold over me, consuming every thought of every waking moment.

  I step up to the front counter with a forced smile.

  A man with chestnut hair and deep brown eyes peeks up at me from the newspaper in his hand. How convenient that he’s reading my paper—The Philadelphia Inquirer. Not that it surprises me, considering it’s the most read in the city, but it sure is funny timing.

  I push my tits out, as per my order from Fred, and stand straight. “Hi, I’m here to see Connor about the part-time clerk position.”

  He sets the paper on a stack of records in front of him and leans forward. A smile that reaches up to his deep brown eyes illuminates his face. As if Fred told him to do it, he glances at my face for a second, before raking over my body with his lecherous gaze. He settles on my chest, making me feel self-conscious and also stupid for listening to Fred. But he was obviously right. And I need this job. So, fuck it. Ogle away.

  “I’m Connor.” He reaches his hand across the counter for me to shake. “You must be Pandora.”

  I almost burst out in laughter. Pandora? That’s my cover for this job. What the fuck? Like Pandora’s box. Way to go, Fred. Was that the best he could come up with? Or did he do that to fuck with me? A common name like Mary or Patricia would have been better. A little heads up would have been nice. That asshole probably wanted me to mess this up.

  Not gonna happen, buddy.

  I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle my laughter, hoping I can make it through this interview without breaking down. I could use a laugh after the week I’ve had.

  “You can call me Dora,” I say as if I was born with this unusual name and have to correct people all the time. Dora the Explorer. Oh my God, how will I make it through the next five minutes?

  Connor points at the bar stool to the left of me. “Have a seat.”

  I do as he instructs, still biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing in his face. From now until I nail the bastards running their operation out of this store, I’ll be Dora or whoever the fuck I need to be to get the story written.

  “So, Dora,” Connor says. “Have you ever worked in a record store?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Do you know how to use a record player? We only play vinyl in this store. No CDs or MP3s are allowed on the surround system. Store policy. Not like we have anything you can play them with.”

  “Makes sense, seeing as this is a record store,” I say, almost forgetting this is an interview. I flash a closed mouth smile and continue, “Yes, I know how to use a record player. I have my parents old Thorens model they bought after they got married.”

  “Sweet.” He moves his hands in front of him to crack his knuckles, his muscular arms flexing in the process. “It’s not often we get anyone in here who even knows how to drop a record.” After he finishes his stretch, he leans forward with his hands on the glass counter, holding my gaze. “Well, the hours are pretty straightforward—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights from four o’clock until closing at ten. I pay in cash once a week. No overtime, no health insurance, no benefits of any kind. You would be expected to lock up at the end of your shift, close out the till, and make sure the store is clean for the next morning. Think you can handle that?”

  That’s a lot of trust to hand over to a new employee. Maybe I was wrong about this place. Either way, I could use the extra money to buy groceries, or at the very least a fresh supply of Cheetos and vodka.

  “Yes, I can handle it. When do I start?”

  “How about tonight?”

  I nod, nervous about starting so soon. This is all finally happening for me. The break I need.

  “Sounds good,” I tell him.

  “Come by around quarter to four, and I’ll get you set up with everything you need.”

  I extend my hand to Connor, and he gives it a shake. I have a job, the one that could make or break my career.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ethan: Eleven Years Ago

  When I open my eyes, there’s a dull throbbing at the base of my skull. I blink a few times, my vision blurred from the overhead lights blinding me.

  Beep, beep, beep.

  What is that sound?

  My entire body hurts from my head to my toes. The pain creeps up my leg, settling around my thigh. It hurts so fucking bad that I have to close my eyes once more and bite my lip until the next wave passes. Each thump inside my head is somehow perfectly timed with each beep, the noise causing my head to pound harder.

  I reach out with my right hand and feel cold plastic, the rigid material unfamiliar, foreign to me. But I don’t have enough strength to pull myself up. Forcing myself to hold my eyes open, I turn my head to the side to scan my surroundings.

  Where am I? Where is all that noise coming from?

  I crane my neck to listen to the shouting on the other side of the white curtain that wraps around my bed. Shadows of people passing objects to each other come into sight.

  Am I imagining this?

  A whiff of rubbing alcohol, mixed with the sick scent I associate with hospitals smacks me in the face. I’m in the hospital. Why the fuck am I here? I have nothing, no memory of why I can’t move my leg or why my head is fucking killing me.

  Sticking my tongue out, I lick my chapped lips. My mouth holds a familiar metallic taste. Blood. I know it well from all the years of playing hockey.

  More shouting on the other side of the curtain causes me to still. Someone cries, cutting through all the noise. It’s a woman.

  “Get her out of here,” the man barks, his voice so loud it echoes in my ears.

  “Someone get a crash cart. We’re losing him,” another man says, his tone more shrill.

  This time, the same woman screams. “Nooo,” she sobs. “No, not my baby.”

  I realize I know her voice. I would know this woman anywhere. My mother. Why is she crying? Why is she on the other side of the curtain?

  Her baby? Tears well up in my eyes when I realize her tears are for Erik.

  My insides clench. The fear and adrenaline shoot through my body in a rush of red-hot waves that burn my skin. I cannot breathe. Every ounce of air I have feels as though it has been sucked from my body with each shallow breath I take. I attempt to get up to see what’s happening on the other side of the stupid white curtain. I have to know Erik is all right.

  I move one hand up the rail, my other hand not cooperating. Nothing. I have no strength. After a few tries, I give up, my body no longer able to fight.

  “Erik,” I whisper, right before I close my eyes and drift back to sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ethan: Present Day

  I find Will in the back of Chinese Garden with four plates full of food, digging into each of them with his fork, like a ravenous beast. As I approach the table, he peeks up at me, chewing with his mouth half open. My mother used to make comments about Will’s etiquette during dinner, right after he’d leave our house for the night. It wasn’t often that we had guests for dinner since our house was more like a mausoleum than a home. But on the few occasions Will had been invited for Sunday dinner with my parents, he ate the same way. And my mom said something to me every time.

  “Don’t th
ey teach that boy any manners,” she would say, talking shit about the Romans.

  I would roll my eyes and ignore her. Who cared how Will ate? He was the closest I had come to a brother since Erik.

  I sit across from Will and pick up a pair of chopsticks. “Couldn’t wait until I got here?”

  “Dude, I haven’t eaten all day, and you’re late. When it comes to food, I wait for no one.”

  I dig into a plate of Mia’s favorite—General Tso’s. She would live off this shit if she had the money to buy takeout every night.

  “Where have you been all week?” Will shoves a forkful of rice into his mouth, speaking between bites. “You shacking up with some chick I don’t know about?”

  I laugh, attempting to chew the rubbery chicken. “Nah, you know me. I don’t do repeats. Too much drama.”

  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, like a caveman, and continues to eat fried rice out of a white container. Will has never been coordinated with chopsticks, forcing him to use silverware. Even so, he still has food all over his mouth and down the front of his shirt. And he’s not even drunk yet.

  Will sticks his fork in the rice carton and sets it on the table. “Where have you been then?”

  “You know, here and there. It was getting a little crowded at Mia’s apartment. I rented a room at the Ritz for a few nights so I could get some sleep. The couch was killing my back and shoulder.”

  Lies, all lies. Except for the part about the hotel and my shoulder. Sometimes, the pain of my past comes creeping back at the worst times.

  He snickers. “And you didn’t invite me? Dick. The mattress in Mia’s guest room is kicking my ass. The floor would be more comfortable.”

  “Hey, you were the one who was sneaking off with that chick. If you weren’t MIA most of the time, I would have asked you to share a suite with me.”

  In all honesty, we needed a break from each other. We play hockey for the same team and share an apartment. At times, we have even shared girls. I needed some space from the Roman family with how intense things were getting between Mia and me.

  “Ahh, that’s cool, bro. Don’t worry about it. My sister is hardly ever home now that she got a new job. I only see her before she goes to work. We eat breakfast together, and then she leaves. I crash in her bed when she’s gone. The arrangement works.”

  “Keep it up with all the partying, and you will be paying for it big time once the new trainer gets a hold of you.”

  Will cracks open a fortune cookie and laughs at the message on the paper, before throwing it onto the table in the open space between us. “Even the Chinese proverbs are telling me to go out again tonight, and you my friend, are coming.”

  I lift the paper and shake my head. “Flattery will go far tonight. I don’t think there’s a hidden meaning behind this fortune.”

  Will shrugs. “Yeah, maybe not, but it’s an excuse to have some fun before we have to go back to real life.” He reaches across the table and grabs the egg roll from my plate. “You gonna eat this or what? I’ve been eying it up for the last ten minutes.”

  A smirk touches my lips. “Go right ahead.”

  Will bites into the egg roll, licking some of the juices that slide down his lip. Watching Will eat is almost comical, gross, even. He acts as if he hasn’t had a meal in days. I have no problem sticking to our diet during the season, but Will isn’t as disciplined when it comes to the meal plans I make him follow.

  Binge drinking and eating for the first few weeks after the regular season is part of Will’s MO. I could just as easily fall back into old habits along with him, but I have to control myself. I can’t go back to being the person I was back in high school. Because, unlike Will, I won’t be able to stop once I lose myself.

  “Your sister got another job?” As much as I don’t want to ask about Mia, I can’t help but wonder about her. “Did she get fired from the paper?”

  He wipes his hands with the tablecloth, shaking his head. “Nah, nothing like that. She’s on a special assignment. Not sure why working at a record store is so top secret. Mia said she’s not allowed to talk about it. Whatever that means.”

  Our jobs were something neither of us had talked about, probably because we were too busy taking off our clothes. Apart from what I know about the girl I met most nights in her backyard, I understand very little about the woman Mia is now. And that annoys me because I should—no, I want to know—more about her after all these years.

  “How is she juggling that with her other job?”

  I miss her. She deserves a decent apology, one that I will most likely fuck up. A girl like Mia deserves someone better than me, someone who can love and worship her like a goddess.

  “You know Mia, all business no pleasure. She leaves early in the morning for the Inquirer and goes right to Old City Records after work. I usually bring her breakfast. That’s about the only time we see each other.”

  “You should invite her to come out with us tonight.”

  Before I have time to stop myself, the words are out of my mouth. But I don’t regret them. I miss Mia. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head all week. My cock still perks up at the thought of her naked body. Her sweet scent is still burned into my nostrils. Why does she have to be related to Will? Anyone but Will.

  Will’s face lights up as he pulls his cell phone from his pocket. “Good idea. She could use a few drinks. Mia has been even more uptight lately than her usual. I don’t know what has her so pissed off all the time.”

  I do. Me.

  “Hey, little sis,” Will says, holding the phone up to his ear. “Come hang out with your big bro tonight. Family drinking night, my treat.” He laughs at Mia’s response. “If you’re so worried about me, then you should come and be my chaperone.” A few beats pass where he rolls his eyes and then chuckles. “Yeah, I could use one. Is that a yes? Mmkay…See ya then.”

  Will hangs up with Mia and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. “Change of plans. Mia is coming, but she wants us to meet at her apartment and then go to Scores.”

  Now, I’m the one laughing. “Your sister, of all people, wants to go to a strip club? I have to see this for myself.”

  Will cracks a smile. “Me, too. She looked awkward as fuck at The Sixth Floor. I can’t even imagine how she will react when a stripper shoves her tits in her face, looking for a few bucks.”

  I turn my head away from Will to glance around the crowded Chinese restaurant below Mia’s apartment, wishing she were here with us. It’s her favorite place to eat in the city, which is kind of sad, considering this place is a dump. Shifting in my seat, I finally make eye contact with Will, who is now shoving more food down his throat. Unable to get the thought of Mia shaking her tits in my face out of my mind, I look at the table and lock onto the fortune cookie paper.

  Flattery will go far tonight.

  I wonder if it will work on Mia. Because I need to do a lot of apologizing—more like groveling—If I want her back.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mia

  Sifting through my closet, I hold my cell phone to my ear, as it rings on the other end, and push the hangers along the metal rack to look for something sexy and strip club appropriate.

  “Clarke,” I whine into the phone when she answers. “My best friend in the whole wide world. Please come with me tonight. I need a plus one for my next mission.”

  She chuckles. “Okay, I’ll bite. Where are we going?”

  “Scores.”

  More laughter. “A strip club. Oh, this is rich. Have you ever been to one?”

  “No, of course not, but I got a lead. I want to chase it.”

  “Now you think they’re selling drugs at Scores.”

  I lift a short, leather skirt from the rack and study it. “Yeah. From what I can tell, the Mafia is the supplier of the drugs. Scores is another one of their fronts.”

  She blows air into the receiver. “And you honestly think you cant take down the Mafia by going to a club they own? This is dan
gerous, Mia. Why don’t you call that cop you trade information with down at the eighteenth precinct? It’s not your job to bust criminals.”

  “I could use some backup or at least someone who knows where I am in case shit gets weird. Are you coming or not?” I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder and step into the skirt, sliding it up my thighs.

  For a second, I think of Ethan, who loved taking this thing off me. Asshole.

  “What’s weird about this situation is you in a strip club. I wouldn’t miss seeing this for the world.”

  “I’m glad you find this so amusing. Will seemed to think so, too.”

  She gasps. “Will knows about the case? I can’t believe you told him.”

  “No, of course not.” I reach behind me to zip up the skirt, staring down at my pale legs that could use some bronzer. “I told Will to meet me at Scores since he wanted me to go out with him tonight. I need you to keep him company while I dig around and see if there’s any suspicious activity going on there. He’ll be up my ass if you don’t come and help me. Pretty please. I will owe you one.”

  “As your friend, yes, I will come. You’re getting too invested in this story, one I’m afraid will get you killed if you don’t watch yourself.”

  I shut my closet and look at myself in the full-length mirror glued to the front of the door. Not bad for a last minute stakeout. After wearing this outfit to The Sixth Floor, I know I can pass the dress code test if they even have one at a strip club. The idea makes me laugh on the inside. A dress code at a place where they take their clothes off. Hilarious.

  “Can you come to my apartment in one hour? Will is coming here. I scheduled for an Uber driver to pick us up at nine.”