“Why?”
Patrice says, “They’re divorced. It’s none of her beeswax.”
Rhonda’s eyes bulge, and she squeaks, “What?”
Playing into Patrice’s madness somewhat, I say, “Our marriage was invalid. You know how that goes.” I slam the side of my fist against the button. “Where’d it stop? Hell?”
Patrice makes a clicking noise, leaning on the counter. “She moved on fast, you know. Married to Coach Wilder and all. It wasn’t right how he broke up your illegal marriage.”
Rhonda whispers, “Is that true? I wasn’t gone long.”
Patrice shakes her head as I watch them gossip about me in front of me. “Girl, they were fighting right here. He even wanted to have their honeymoon on this counter, if you know what I mean.”
“What?”
I argue, “No. That’s not exactly accurate. I was—”
“And then Haley was dirty dancing with waiters somewhere on a cruise. So wrong.”
“It was a joke.” I don’t know why I’m even bothering.
Patrice purses her lips. “Sounds like it if she left you for a weatherman.”
“He’s a sportscaster. Damn it! This elevator!” I’ll either have to take the stairs or jump out a window. Whichever kills me first.
Patrice waves her hand, looking back at her computer screen. “Oh. That elevator is out of order.”
I stand there, glowering at Patrice for a few seconds before asking, “Why in the hell didn’t you tell me that already?” I deserve that one for not taking the window in the first place.
Patrice shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”
“Jesus.”
Berating myself for being lazy as I storm to the emergency stairwell, Rhonda faintly says, “Bye, Rod.” I think that’s the first time I’ve heard her actually address me.
Pulling out my phone as I leave the main lobby downstairs, I have no idea what to do next. I can’t do this shit alone. I’ll buy the wrong sizes, the worst brands, or just say fuck it all and buy the kid a switchblade, telling her to toughen up. She’s Greg Rodwell’s spawn, and this is the real world.
Father of the Century over here.
I scroll through my contacts, stopping at Lizette Abrams. My mother. Starting to shake, I inhale, looking out at the parking lot as I head to my truck in the back row. Next to it, odd enough, is Hadley’s Toyota. I got here first, so she can’t say I’m stalking her. She won’t interact with me on any level, but she’s okay parking next to me? I wish my rationale were as stable as hers seems to be. Fuck me.
I climb into my truck and again consult my phone contacts. Nicky? Shit. The kids he works with are older and clearly stupider than even me. But I’m not asking for his help. It’d turn into a comedy of errors. No, thanks. My life is already shitcom enough.
As I scroll past F, I land on a name I was trying to avoid. But again, desperate times. Even if I’ll regret it, I send a text, hoping for no response but needing a fucking miracle.
Where are you?
Aww! Miss me already?
Just left the gym.
Getting coffee.
What’s up?
Starting my truck, I type fast.
Stay there.
Before I get a response, I dump my phone onto the passenger seat, ignoring the ding as I gun it out of the lot, knowing I’ll regret this whole upcoming conversation I’m about to have with Simone Garrison.
I park on the street and jog over to The Grind, a newer coffee shop next to the gym Hadley and I go to—used to. Ever since she gave birth, she hasn’t been back. I still go there, but it’s hard avoiding certain people, namely Morgan, Shane, Jared... At this point, I’ll have to leave Richmond to find a gym I don’t want to torch.
Knowing I’ve hit rock bottom crawling to Garrison, I stop outside, taking a deep breath as I mentally prepare for this. A wiry-looking creep leaves the shop, eyeballing me like I’m after the black bag hanging from his shoulder. I’m tempted to jump at him for a needed laugh, but I have shit to do.
Going inside, the smell of coffee slaps me around, but I don’t see her. Did Garrison not listen to a damn thing I said or is she fucking with me? Typical. She’s Wilder’s sister after all. As my hand goes to my pocket for my phone, a blonde I don’t recognize at the far end of the room bounces in her chair, waving at me.
I check behind me to make sure nobody’s there before I make a complete ass of myself going over.
“Greg!”
Confused and not afraid to show it, I slowly start walking, and as I close in on her, I see the reason. Stopping in front of the small table, I laugh. “Did you get too close to a ceiling fan?”
She digs her fingers into her chin-length hair, flipping the ends. “I know. It’s so short. It’s taking some getting used to, but I like it. I wanted to go shorter and get a pixie, but I might look like a boy.” That wouldn’t be a problem with that rack of hers.
“I guess you’d have to drop the E, Simon.”
Simone rolls her eyes. “I’ll try not to blow a gasket, laughing too hard. Why don’t you use that E and add it to Rod? You know, what Shasta did to you.” She puckers her lips at her paper cup, apparently repulsed.
“Bite me.”
“Her table scraps? So appetizing.” She arches a dark gold eyebrow, reminding me of her smug brother, and I want to turn around, forgetting this ever happened. But I can’t. I have nobody else.
“This was stupid.”
I turn, but Simone says, “Wait. I’m sorry. I was joking. Well, not really, but...” She grabs the second coffee on her table and scoots it toward me. “Yours. Black.”
“Why?”
“Just because. I know you like it black.” She smiles, but it doesn’t change how I feel about this situation or her suspicious coffee offering.
When I don’t sit or take the coffee, Garrison’s smile slips. “You said you’d never use my number. You did. What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“I call bullshit.”
“You can call the whole barnyard for all I care. I just wanted to mess with you. That’s all.”
She shrugs, picking up her coffee, essentially dismissing me. “Your loss.”
“My loss? You already make me regret coming here.”
Garrison glares at me from over her cup. “You’re still here.”
“So? It’s a free country.”
She sets down her paper coffee cup with a sloshy thud. “This is getting weird. Tell me what you want so I can enjoy my coffee in peace.”
“I already told you. I don’t want anything.”
Her eyes suddenly widen, and she shrieks, “Oh, my God! You’re scared of a baby!” Bloody hell. Am I that obvious?
“You can kiss my black-and-blue ass.” The guy just sitting down at the table next door makes a disapproving noise, which only makes me care less about the stick up his ass.
“Not on the first date.”
“The stuff of nightmares.”
Garrison’s blue eyes bore into mine, and I shift, still standing before her like some lackey or servant, which I am at her mercy. I just can’t show too much desperation. She’ll run with it.
“That’s it! You do need my help!”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Disregarding that, she asks, “Are you spending time with Birdy?”
I shrug, going with casual panic. “Shasta’s leaving her with me for a week. I get Birdy today.”
“Whoa. What about Hadley? You’re practically joined at the hip.”
I scratch my chin as I try to be nonchalant. “Your brother has that position.” Fucker.
“You know what I mean. You’re besties. You two have a spat?”
“No,” I answer way too fast, and she notices.
“Hmm. And the plot thickens. It’s none of my business. I’m just Hadley’s sister-in-law. Nothing major.”
“Christ. Can I get a word in edgewise?”
“Depends on if you’re willing to play ball.”
Garrison leans back, crossing her arms with the same self-assured smile her brother possesses. “So, when are you going to ask me?”
“For what?”
“Help. I want to hear you say you need me.”
Leaning down, I grip both sides of her table, nearly growling, “What’s wrong with you? Get dropped on your head one too many times? I’m not your pawn, Simone.”
“I’m not asking you to be. Just...my partner in crime.” She smirks, and I know exactly what she wants in return.
“More like an unholy alliance. Jesus Christ.” I look at the wood flooring between tables, avoiding direct eye contact with Father Pinocchio this time. Shaking my head, I look back to the sinner in front of me. “What do you want?” Like I really need to ask.
“Ricky. I want Officer Tesco to be all mine. Are you down with helping me?”
“Why do you want him so much? He’s a walking crab farm.”
Father Cash clears his throat, and I bow my head, laughing. I’m going straight to hell. I hope Eden saved me a seat.
Simone says, “I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to excuse my friend. He’s mentally unstable and is off his meds.”
The old fart huffs as he leaves his table and I laugh harder. Garrison says, “You know, you’re fucking rude for a dick.”
Looking up at her, I retort, “And you’re fucking vulgar for a chick. So, there. Even.”
Simone consults her watch. “You have three minutes to get this off the ground. You’d better start begging.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
Garrison nods as she brings the cup to her mouth, holding up her other hand, pinching the air. “Just a little.”
“Forget that shit. I don’t need your help.”
She laughs. “You give up way too easily, Greg. Drink your coffee.” She sips at hers with a smile.
“Screw you, Garrison.”
“Uh, no thanks. Your attitude is a turn-off.”
“I’m a turn-off? How about Tesco? You think he’s a turn-on? I bet when he gets his rocks off he doesn’t even take off his pants. He just unzips, unloads, and absconds.”
A woman passing our table cringes and mumbles, Eww, or something.
How in the hell did I get here? Garrison has me by the balls.
“I’m sure he’s fantastic no matter how he does it.”
“Have fun in the land of make-believe. If I help you with this idiotic plan, what’s in it for me?” A hand job would be a nice bonus.
“Help with Birdy. You’re painfully an amateur. You can’t even deny it. You need me, swizzle stick.” She winks, which that alone sends me into a rage.
I whisper-seethe, “Like fucking herpes.”
“You’ll be begging me to help you. That’s a guarantee.” She grins, and I hate myself for making a deal with the devil.
“You’ll never hear me beg you for anything.”
She shrugs. “We’ll see about that. So, you said to make Ricky jealous. How?”
Sighing, I admit defeat. “You and I...” Remembering what Hadley and I did to fuck with Morgan and my cousin Colt, I also hate what I’m about to suggest.
“We what?”
I grip the table harder. “Damn it. Ground rules. You need them. Number one, hands above my belt at all times.”
Simone rolls her eyes. “Like that won't be hard.”
“You got that right, it won't be. There will be no actual hard-ons happening.” Son of a bitch. Is this what a mail-order bride feels like?
“Ditto,” she says, giggling. “But now you have me even more intrigued. What is your plan?”
“Ask Wilder where Ricky hangs out.”
“Okay. Then what?”
“Your next class. Skip it.”
Frowning, she picks up her Kate Spade purse, which is probably from her mother. “I will not. I’ll help you after I’m done at the hospital.”
“You’re finally committing yourself? Good for you. I’ll spread the word.”
“Don’t be such an asshole. It’s my internship. I’m in Admissions.”
“Oh. What a letdown. I hope you get an inpatient discount.”
Standing, Simone grabs her coffee, and since she’s wearing a skirt, I take the short opportunity to check out her ass in it. Hot fucking hell on fire. Even better than the sweats she wears for softball. When she turns to me, I pretend to check out a woman passing us instead. Simone snaps her fingers. “Over here, Greg.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
Garrison shakes her head and her shorter hair swings against her chin. It’d be cute if she weren’t the one attached to it. “Can’t you just ask me for help? Humble yourself a tad?”
I throw my head back, counting to 10 and the tin tiles on the ceiling. Blowing out a sigh, I look back at her. “Fine. Will you please help me with Birdy? If you do, I’ll help you capture McGruff the Horn Dog.”
Simone laughs and puts her hand on my cheek, jarring me some. “Okay. Deal. Just don’t call him that at our wedding.”
“Christ. Please don’t invite me. I don’t want to be responsible for that shit.” Pulling her hand off my face, I roll my eyes, not just for her hopes and dreams needing a wakeup call, but also so I don’t check out her tits while she’s watching me. The purple blouse she’s wearing doesn’t help to avoid that.
I fake a yawn, trying to appear bored, and then I say, “I’ll find something else to call him. I have time.” I hope eternity is long enough. Ricky will never remarry, and he’ll never want a relationship with Simone because Ricky and Wilder are alike. He wants a chase, but Simone would easily give herself to him. Tesco will use her and toss her aside. That’s the way he’s operating now. He’ll do the same to Garrison. And though she drives me to the brink of insanity and back in a heartbeat, I don’t want to see her hurt. Crying chicks make me nervous because I’m a crier too. Ask Shasta.
She hands me my coffee, and I ask, “So, this deal. How far does it go?”
“I’m not sleeping with you, Rod,” she says, mocking me with my own name.
Her smirk makes me want to laugh, but instead, I give her a disgusted look. “Hey. We shared a bed in that dump of a motel room last summer when we went after your brother in Baltimore. I didn’t touch you then. I was a perfect gentleman and stayed on my own side of the bed.”
“And if I recall, you had told me you wouldn’t touch me with a 10-foot pole anyway.”
I walk with her as we head for the door. I’m actually leaving here in a better mood than I started with. Maybe it’s because I’m somewhat relieved Simone’s helping me, no matter the reciprocal deal of snagging a manwhore with a badge.
I yank open the door, allowing her to go before me. I want another look at her ass. I’d never fuck Simone even if I were paid to, which makes it an entirely different animal altogether, but her body is something to admire. She’s not Hadley, but maybe that’s a good thing since she’s currently ignoring me and not interested in sleeping with me. If only I could change her mind. Even once would be enough. Maybe I’m the one living in the land of make-believe.
Still holding onto the coffee I’ll throw out before I make it to my truck, I grin as the bright sun hits our faces on the sidewalk. “Well, that’s a relief, Garrison.”
“I’ll only be a couple hours today. I’ll text you when I’m done, and we can meet somewhere. Okay?”
I nod, and before she walks away, I say, “By the way, you’ll be the one begging. I live up to that 10-foot pole. I’m not Rod for nothing, sweet cheeks.”
Simone’s mouth hangs open as I leave her on the sidewalk.
I just shocked Simone Garrison. I guess nothing’s impossible.
This could be fun after all.
CHAPTER 11
“Are we done yet?”
Garrison studies the printed list she brought with her, parading a shitload of more initiative than me. I only contributed my credit card, which is screaming for the sweet mercy of death.
By the way, note to self: Don’t believe the hype. Being surrounded by nipples is not as hot as imagined.
She consults her list again, shaking her head. “Jesus, Greg. We just started. Next, you need a bathtub.”
“I have one.”
Simone frowns, now studying me as if I’m something to exchange. “You can’t give her a bath in a big tub. She can’t sit up yet. We could use your kitchen sink, but a tub is easier and doesn’t tie up the sink with baths.” She puts a checkmark beside something on her list and walks further down the aisle, which is more daunting than the prospect of going to law school. Forget about the sizes and stages. There’s so much shit here to shovel, and I have no idea where to start.
Simone dumps a pink tub into the cart I’m pushing, and I promptly whine, “Pink? Really? No. You’re killing me, Garrison.”
Again, reading her list, she shrugs. “Girls usually like pink when they’re little. Washcloths are next.”
“No, you like pink. And I have washcloths. I’m not a total barbarian.”
“That’s questionable. These smaller ones are better for washing her little body with your big hands.” Simone dumps two packages into the cart as I mentally calculate the damage so far.
“What? I can’t wash her.”
She grabs a bottle of baby powder, but it falls to the floor. Laughing as she picks it up, she asks, “Why not?”
“I’m a guy. I mean, I don’t want your future husband arresting me.”
She smirks. “Don’t be a butthead. Babies get dirty. A lot.” She dumps some kind of purple wash into the cart and zooms to the next thing listed. I mentally add that and groan as I push the cart forward, following her like she’s the last bitch on Earth in heat. Simone stops abruptly, and I almost run into her. “Watch it, Rodwell,” she complains, pushing the cart into my stomach.
“You stopped.”
“People do that. Pay attention.”
“Stop stopping so much.”
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