Finding Jordie: Things aren't always what they seem. (The Love Lies Bleeding Series Book 1)

by Harley, HJ

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Acknowledgements

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  © 2014 by H.J. Harley. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Edited By Salome Jones

  Cover design by Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative

  Interior formatting by Kassi Cooper of Kassi’s Kandids Formatting

  You deserve all the awards for putting up with me. Thank you for being the best father to our daughter and working so hard to take care of us. My other half, my better half…I LOVE YOU!

  I HEARD THE MUFFLED thumping and the uncoordinated scuffle before I stood up and saw the two men going blow for blow. I knew this night was going too well. I hopped over the bar just as one of them tackled the other. In a tangle of arms and legs, they knocked into me and sent the bottle of 151 in my hand crashing to the concrete floor.

  “Get them both out of here, Mike!” I pushed my way through the crowd, making a path to the entrance. I shoved the heavy wooden door open, and a rush of crisp March air hit me in the face. I held the door open for Mike and Carlos, and as they tossed the two drunken brawlers out, the clamor from inside escaped to the street.

  “You know how much money I spent in here tonight, you bitch?” one of the drunken men slurred at me. He oozed pretentious asshole, wearing his skinny jeans and a tight black shirt. It was hard to take a grown ass man seriously when his jeans were tighter than mine.

  “Thanks for your patronage.” I saluted him and smiled sweetly. Moron.

  People clapped and whistled at the excitement as I walked over to the “smoking section,” which in the grand state of New York is fifty feet away from the establishment’s entrance. Down at the curb there were several small groups chatting over their smokes. I walked past them. Standing alone, I lit a cigarette.

  “You know, it’s nights like these I wish I wasn’t a bartender in New York City,” said a matter-of-fact voice from behind me.

  “You know, it’s nights like these I wish I didn’t own a bar in New York City.” I looked at my best friend Rachel with a ‘trump-that-shit’ smile on my face.

  She considered what I’d said for a second and forfeited. “Holler.”

  Rachel and I had known each other for thirteen years. We met through a friend at a Backstreet Boys record release party when I was eighteen. We shared a mutual love of cute boys and catchy tunes. Ever since then she’d been through it all with me and we picked up this holler habit somewhere along our adventures—our own silly way of saying ‘you win’, ‘it’s okay’ or ‘shut your pie hole’.

  “Thanks for coming in, Rach. I thought for sure the last girl would’ve worked out.” I shifted around to face her. “Oh, and the useless sack inside decided to let me know tonight’s her last night. It interferes with her studies.” I shrugged. I knew she wasn’t in school. She was just lazy. Besides there was no love lost there. She didn’t really fit in at all.

  “You’re just lucky I love you, bitch.” Rachel bumped my shoulder with hers. “Besides you’ll make it up to me when I need two weeks off again.” She waved the smoke away from her face and pretended to cough. “That is such a disgusting habit.”

  “Hollerrrr.” I flicked my ashes and raised my eyebrows at her.

  “Damn right.” She grinned.

  I looked around when two men standing a few feet to the side of us let out a burst of laughter. This was the norm for most drunks at one-fifteen in the morning, but these two didn’t have that inebriated laugh. Rachel and I exchanged looks.

  “What the hell’s that about?” She squinted at them.

  Just then a group of woo-hoo party girls—you know, the chicks that end each of their sentences with the phrase “woo-hoo”—walked past us, and finally I was in on the joke. I smacked Rachel’s arm to get her attention.

  She jumped. “Ow! What the eff, Jordie?” She followed my stare to one of the four woo-ees walking as if she was queen shit down East 13th Street.

  Still gazing starry-eyed at the two men, woo-ee number three had failed to realize the back of her skirt was hiked up and stuck in her Spanx. Rachel and I burst out laughing along with the two guys.

  “It’s almost one-thirty. I’d better go back in there—last call soon.” I turned to Rachel, tossing my cigarette into the sewer grate. We start bringing it down a few notches around one-thirty and turn the lights on around two. Any bar open after that is either a huge warehouse club or a little hole in the wall that serves as the after party. Besides, I wasn’t paying an extra fifteen grand for an after-hours liquor license. “Thank the Lord!” she sang, dipping herself back like a preacher would.

  As we wound through the smokers back to the bar, we heard a commotion coming from the street behind us. I glanced over my shoulder. The drunk in the skinny jeans was staggering back towards me.

  “Jesus H. Christ, this asshole again?” I put my hand on Rachel’s arm. “Rach, get Mike, please. I’ve had it with this clown.”

  I didn’t know how, because he was so friggin’ drunk, but Skinny Jeans man made it to where I was standing. He towered over all five feet three of me, cockeyed, reeking of booze.

  His friend tugged at his arm. “Let’s go, dude. We can pick up some Burger King and find us some bitches. Let it go.”

  He brushed off his friend and stood in front of me, thumbs shoved in the teeny tiny pockets of his jeans as he swayed slightly. He slurred something at me that I worked out to be, “Let me back in, you fucking bitch!” Luckily I speak fluent drunken asshole.

  “Not tonight, bub. Go sleep it off.” I started to turn away. A second later, I felt like I’d been smacked in the face with a brick. Next thing I knew I was on my ass mid-sidewalk with the contents of my hoodie pocket scattered all around me. Stunned, I sat there for a second gathering my thoughts. What in the fuck just happened? Did this guy just punch me? My lip throbbed. I reached up and put my fingers to my mouth. When I brought them down I saw red, literally and figuratively.

  “I’m bleeding, you asshole!” I jumped to my feet and lunged towards Skinny Jeans in one swift motion. “Oh, you’re dead!” I screamed, swinging my fists as a stream of obscenities that would make a truck driver blush spilled out of my mouth. For some reason, my arms didn’t quite reach him. It took a second for me to realize someone was holding me back.<
br />
  “Easy, easy.” The voice sounded stern, but there was a hint of humor in it. With his arms still wrapped around my waist from behind, Mister Amused dragged me farther away from the assault and battery charge I was headed for.

  Almost simultaneously, Mike came storming out the door, Rachel right behind him. “Are you okay, Jordie?” Mike’s deep voice cut through the crowd noise.

  “I’m fine!” I thrashed, trying to get closer to dickhead in tights that hit me. I was pissed as hell.

  “What does this bitch think she’s going to do? Hit me?” He crossed his arms and tried to look like he wasn’t about to fall over. “Come on, bitch. Take your shot.”

  It was bad timing on his part.

  Broad, bald, and stocky, Mike barreled up to him just in time to reply. “Who you calling bitch?” Mike dropped him with a single shot to the jaw. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Bitch.”

  Skinny Jean’s friend stared blankly at Mike, who was now breathing heavily, his brown eyes almost red with rage. The friend started to say something but decided against it, I guessed, because he collected his crumpled friend from the sidewalk, thanked us for not calling the police, and apologized as he dragged the dead weight of his barely conscious friend down the street.

  “What? What?” I swatted at the hands still holding me. “Let me go now.”

  “I will once you calm down.” Whoever was holding onto me was a stranger. I didn’t recognize his voice.

  While I tried to rein in my fury, I pried myself loose from his firm grip. “Thanks,” I muttered, looking up and seeing his face for the first time.

  He already had his flannel in his hand, offering it to me for my bleeding lip.

  I spread my hands and looked down at the front of my hoodie. “No, thanks. Mine’s already ruined.” I slipped my arms out of it, pulled it over my head, and pressed it against my mouth.

  He stared at me, bemused.

  “What?” I felt a bit self-conscious under his stare.

  “Huh? Oh, nothing.” He slipped his flannel back on. “I’m just in awe. I’ve never witnessed a female take a hit like that, let alone get up for round two.”

  “Yeah, well, it comes with the territory. You can’t do what I do and be a pussy. I’m Jordie. I’d shake your hand, but...” I held up my hand to show him the blood on it. I noticed the red splatter on my favorite mid-calf, light brown Uggs as well. “Well, shit, my boots are ruined.”

  He let out a little laugh. “Jordie.” He furrowed his eyebrows slightly as if he was mulling over my name. “I’m Nathan.”

  I reached into the pocket of my hoodie for my cigarettes. Not there. With a twitch of anger I remembered my stuff had been scattered all over. As they headed back inside Mike and Rachel stopped, and she handed me my keys, smokes, and lighter.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m going back in.” Rachel eyed my face. “I’ll close up. Don’t worry. Go home, Jordie, I mean it. Get some ice on that shit. It’s busted pretty bad.”

  “Okay.” I reached up to touch it again and winced.

  She hugged me. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Then one day to Sunday!” The excitement in her eyes made me giggle inside. “Yes! I. Can. Not. Wait!” She exaggerated each word. She spun and headed for the door, shaking her hips and teetering on her high heels. Mike followed right behind her, grinning and shaking his head.

  I snorted with laughter, and my eyes shifted up to Nathan. He looked so confused.

  “One Sunday a month is Cabaret Night here. Any excuse to dress up like a pretty little vixen makes Rachel a happy, happy woman.” I chuckled as he nodded with understanding and gave a small laugh himself.

  Completely not giving a shit exactly how far away from the entrance I was, I pulled out a cigarette. Nathan offered me a light then lit his own smoke.

  “So, Nathan, I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you fresh off the train from Grand Central?” I widened my eyes sarcastically.

  “Nah, my friend is a musician. He came out here for two weeks from Cali and I tagged along to help him out and relax.” He messed with the button on his flannel.

  I took a drag off my cig and let out a bit of laughter. “Oh yeah, how’s the relaxing part going so far?”

  He turned his attention to me again and smiled before he spoke. It was almost as if he was waiting for something.

  He’s definitely a weirdo.

  “I’ll let you know when I get to that part.” He gave me a crooked grin and shrugged.

  Oh my… hot. “Yeah, New York City isn’t the place to go if you want a vacation. I’ve lived in Jersey and New York City most of my life. I’m still waiting to relax.” I wrapped my hoodie around my waist.

  We stood there silently for a brief moment, but under his blue-eyed stare it seemed like forever. What’s this guy’s deal? Is he waiting for me to say something? If he is I have no idea what. He is definitely strange. Gorgeous, but strange.

  I broke free from my inner ramblings and glanced behind me at the group of people walking out the door. “All right, it was very nice to meet you, Nathan. Thank you for trying to save my ass tonight.” I smirked and nodded my head slightly. “If you decide to stop in again, drinks are on me.” I smiled—or tried to. Instead, I busted my lip wide open again. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here. I’m going to head home. I have a date with an ice pack.” I pointed to my bleeding lip with my keys.

  When I reached past him to put my cigarette out on the wall, I grazed his arm and felt a little pull in my belly. That’s… different.

  “I should be going as well. Do you take the subway or a cab?” He crinkled his eyebrows with curiosity, and I couldn’t help but notice him in detail. His eyes were an amazing clear blue with the thinnest black outline. His hair was light copper brown, short on the sides, a bit longer on the top paired with the ‘I just rolled out of bed’ look. He had a perfect nose, a strong, square jaw, and great lips.

  There’s no way he’s older than twenty-three, I’d say. He’s so good looking though—it’s distracting. “Cabs and subways?” I sneered playfully, trying to get my mind back on his question. “I’m a city girl, Nathan. I hoof it.” I lifted my bloodstained boot up and let it drop back to the ground with a thud. “Besides I don’t live far from here.”

  “Can I walk with you?” He scanned the street. “It’s almost two in the morning. I wouldn’t feel like much of a gentleman if I let you walk home alone. I mean, with that guy out there and all.”

  Is this guy for real? “I’ve managed just fine so far.” I answered him with a hint of discord in my voice. “Thank you, but uh... you could be the All Mighty Nut-Job and I’m going to spoon feed you my home address? I should at least make it a challenge for you, no?” I raised an eyebrow. “Besides, didn’t you have a friend with you?” I looked around.

  “I did, but I think he walked off with the skirt-stuck-in-girdle girl.” He laughed and I couldn’t help laughing myself.

  Wow, what a smile. “Stop smiling like that. You look like a nut job.” I led the way down the sidewalk and turned left. We walked a few more yards in silence. Stopping short, I turned on my heel and tilted my head back to face him.

  “So you’ve changed your mind about showing the nut job where you live after all, I guess?” His expression was a mixture of confusion and a scowl, but I could tell it was playful. His eyes were so distracting.

  “Nope, you’ll be happy to know that you’ve safely walked me home... nut job.” I turned my attention to the doors in front of me.

  His eyes followed mine. He shook his head and broke out in his wide-smile laugh again. “This is what you city girls call hoofing it?”

  I gave him a smirk, trying to contain the smile that was about to break free. “Thanks again, fine sir. It’s good to know chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

  “Jordie.” He nodded.

  “Nathan.” I nodded back, still smirking.

  As he walked away he put his hood up, his head down, and buried his hands into hi
s pockets. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him until he was out of my sight.

  I hurried up the steps, unlocked the door, and stared begrudgingly at the two flights of stairs. Right then I wished I’d opted for the first floor apartment and rented out the top floor instead. Who am I trying to kid? I love my rooftop far too much to be that mad at myself. With a sigh, I started the climb. As I unlocked the door to my apartment I could taste the fresh blood on my lip again. That’s because you are a smiling fool.

  “Shit.” I dropped my keys and smokes on the table and kicked the door shut to lock it. Groaning loudly, I tossed my hoodie on the couch and headed straight to the kitchen, not bothering to turn the light on. I grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and placed that bad boy on my throbbing lip as I continued into the bathroom.

  “Friggin’ asshole. I thought hipsters were all about art, coffee, and beanie hats.” I stared at myself in the mirror. “You’re a mess.” I examined my lip closely in the reflection.

  Nathan’s face flashed in my mind, and it occurred to me this was what he was looking at. To think I called him the nut job. He must think I’m certifiable by my actions alone. Forget about how I looked when we met. My hair was disheveled, there was blood from my lip smeared to the bottom left of my chin, and my eyes were shadowed with some serious dark circles. I left the bathroom and made my way up the stairs to my bedroom, kicked off my boots, and stripped for a shower.

  The hot water running down my back relaxed me and my mind began to drift. I couldn’t get this guy out of my head. Aside from his piercing blue eyes and that infectious smile of his, there was something different about him. Granted he was a bit weird, but then again I wasn’t one to talk. I’d been told I leaned to the odd side myself, being the socially shy, closed off to the world, bossy bitch that I was.

  What was it about him that consumed my thoughts this way? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt any interest in a guy. Was that what I was doing? Jesus, Jordie it hasn’t been that long since you’ve been attracted to someone that you would forget what it feels like, has it?