by Brinda Berry
Emerson scowls at me.
I turn to Veronica. “We’ve been through this. Emerson doesn’t need help.”
Veronica’s hands fist at her sides. “I can’t sit around all day and do nothing. If I’m staying, I’m helping.”
Perfect. Now both women are mad at me.
Veronica looks at me and tilts her head. “Please.” The strain in her voice is back.
“Emerson, can you walk me to my car? I’m going to be late. Veronica can make you both some breakfast.”
“Wonderful. We’ll start off with a dirty kitchen,” Emerson says. Her sarcastic attitude drips with every word.
I ignore her tone and leave the living area behind. Emerson stomps her irritation behind me as we walk to the garage. I gently shut the door.
“What’s going on?” I’ve known Emerson for the six months I’ve lived in the house and I’ve never seen this petulant, rude attitude.
“Nothing.” She folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t need any help.”
“What’s she going to hurt? Come on, Emerson,” I coax. “Be nice to her.” I normally don’t ask favors of Emerson. Emerson is a former stripper turned college student. Jordy discovered she ran out of financial aid and brought her to the house one day. She does an excellent job of preventing our place from looking like a frat house and leaves with her hefty check. We don’t get personal.
Except we know her secret, and she knows lots of ours.
Emerson wrinkles her nose and stares past me, avoiding my eyes. “Who is she?”
“Just a friend. She needed a place to crash for a few days.”
“I can come back and clean when she’s gone. When is she leaving?”
“I’m not sure,” I say casually. “Do it for me.”
“I can ignore her.” Emerson raises one defiant eyebrow.
“Who pays you?”
“Don’t threaten me.” She tosses me an evil smile, all blinding charisma and scheming thoughts.
“I wouldn’t dare. But you know I need to go, and I can’t leave with you two acting like this.”
“Okay.” She exhales in a huffy breath. “Any other requests?”
“Yeah. A group of us are going out tonight. Want to go?”
She hesitates on this first time request. “You’ve never asked before. Why now?”
I grasp for answer and go for honesty. “Then Veronica won’t be outnumbered by men.”
She stares at me. “I should be pissed.”
“No. You shouldn’t. I know I can be straight with you.”
“Yeah. Okay then. I’ll go.”
“And could you let Veronica borrow something of yours to wear? You’re curvy like she is, so I—”
Emerson smacks me hard in the chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I rub the spot over my heart. “No. Why?”
She turns to go back into the house. “I’ll take care of it. Text me later about where we’re going. It’s a good thing I like you.”
“See you tonight. Meet back here at seven. That’ll give Veronica time to change.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” The words are muffled as she opens the door and leaves me standing at my car, hoping the two of them can get along.
* * *
“It’s seven-thirty,” Jordy says. “I can only play Angry Birds so many times.”
“Liar. You play that game for hours.” I glance at my watch and he’s right. Emerson swept in a half hour ago, like a sequined-covered cyclone, without saying two words to either of us.
“She doesn’t take long to get ready.” Jordy sits up and tosses his phone on the sofa. “Dylan,” he yells. “Pretty boy. Come on. We’re ready to leave.”
Dylan sticks his head around the corner of the kitchen. “I can hear ya, man. I’m in here.” He looks to me. “Are they ready yet?”
I throw my hands in the air. “You know, she’s only had a few minutes…”
The moment I see her enter the room, I wonder how I’ll make it through the night. I want her all to myself. Veronica wears a short black number. The neckline is high and the material sheer above her breasts.
Jordy’s mouth drops and Dylan’s interested gaze makes me contemplate taking her back down those stairs.
“Well, we’re ready,” Veronica says. “Is this all right?” She moves aside to let Emerson enter beside her.
All I can do is nod. Emerson wears a red sequined dress that screams siren, but I barely notice. I stroll to stand beside Veronica, my statement via body language hopefully clear to Jordy and Dylan.
I may be disguising tonight as a friend outing, but Jordy and Dylan would be stupid to mistake my motives.
Emerson sneaks behind Veronica and pokes me in the back with a sharp fingernail. “I told Veronica it’s your birthday. I had to twist her helpful little arm. It’s the only way I could get her to go,” she says in a loud voice.
The room is silent. I had a birthday a month ago.
Jordy stands and claps his hands once. “Let’s get going then. Need to get this birthday celebration on the road.”
Dylan avoids my gaze, his knowing grin a dead giveaway.
We file out the door and Emerson tugs on the back of my shirt. “You owe me big,” she whispers. “Also, I made your girl do bathrooms today.”
“Your generosity is amazing,” I say through gritted teeth.
I open the passenger door of Jordy’s Hummer for Emerson so she can ride in the front.
Emerson glances around the interior. “This thing should be a dependent on your taxes.”
Jordy only snorts in response.
Dylan and I sit in back with Veronica sandwiched nicely between. Her thigh presses against mine and there’s a visual of her cleavage that could be used as a torture tactic.
The drive into the city is both painful and pleasurable. Dylan seems preoccupied with reading his phone. Emerson and Jordy argue about the merits of social media.
Veronica leans toward me. “Where are we going? I feel like I’m going to a high school prom. She made me bring this.” She holds up a beaded purse and nods toward Emerson in the front.
“A new club.”
“I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Why? You’re allowed to have fun.”
She glances at Dylan, who is speed typing into his phone, and then back to me. “I need to leave soon.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Florida. Fresh new start in a place I’ve always wanted to go.”
“You have friends there?”
She shakes her head. “I can make friends.”
Her answer puts cannonball-sized lead in my stomach. I know she’s running from some bad life and a bastard who hurt her. But she doesn’t have to run that far. She could start new here. I plan to change her mind. “Think about it tomorrow. You know I’m here for you. But tonight … have fun with me.”
She gives a slow blink and exhales. “Okay. It’s not like I can head out tonight, right?”
“No. You can’t.” My heart races while I try to live in the moment.
She’s thinking about leaving?
We arrive at the club located inside a hotel. An attendant takes Jordy’s keys for valet parking and we stroll inside. I keep my hand centered on Veronica’s back, the feel of her skin hot through the sheer material of her dress. Her long hair swings across my knuckles and all I can think about is how soft and sexy she is.
We all show IDs and Veronica is the only one too young to legally drink. Jordy shakes his head reproachfully at me when the guy makes a big deal of putting a florescent wristband on her. I give Jordy the finger behind Veronica’s back and we all walk inside, trying to adjust to the dim lighting.
There’s a nice corner table that’s big enough for our group. I make sure Veronica’s next to me and order a round of drinks. The loud music is more of a dance club variety and my least favorite, but I’m oblivious. It wouldn’t matter if a guy played a harpsichord beside my head. I’m here to spend
time with Veronica.
“You good?” I ask her.
She takes a sip of her cola. “Yeah. So, is this what you guys do a lot?”
“No.”
She laughs. “Good. This doesn’t look very exciting.” She glances at a few couples on the dance floor. “They’re having fun.”
“That guy,” I say, pointing. “Having trouble controlling his muscles. Seizure is my best bet.”
“You are so mean.” She giggles. “Yeah. Maybe. She’s no better.” She nods her head at the couple.
“How so? At least she can dance.”
“Well, if you call pushing your privates toward your partner a dance move. Push it forward, push it back, push it forward…”
Her words send a flash of heat through me. “Ah. I see what you mean. It does look pretty erotic.”
She pushes my arm. “Funny.” She turns to look at the other tables. “I expected more. I guess I watch too much TV. I thought places like this are always packed.”
“Maybe the good ones. This hasn’t been open long. What did you do for fun back home? Clubs?”
“I’m underage,” she says, holding up her bright-yellow wristband. “Or did you forget?”
I lean closer to her ear than necessary. Her hair smells so damn good, I want to bury my face in it. “So? Tell me about you. What makes you think there’s something great in Florida?”
“Let me see. Palm trees, sand, ocean, seashells, sun, coconuts—”
“Coconuts?”
“Yeah. Florida coconuts. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s Hawaii. Maybe I should’ve said oranges.” Her lips part in a delicious, embarrassed grin. “Florida oranges. Wow that was air-headed.”
The waitress walks by and I hold up a finger. She grabs my glass, checks everyone else at our table, and brings me a second rum and Coke.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. I set my drink down and slip my cell from my pocket to check the display. When I see it’s Ace, a guy who doesn’t call me, I know I need to step out to the lobby. “I have to make a quick call. Be right back.”
“Sure.” She turns to Dylan at her left and I immediately regret making the choice to leave the table, even for a minute.
I make a fast path to the doors and up steps leading to the main entrance of the hotel.
“Thanks for calling me back,” Ace says.
“No problem. Something wrong?”
“Mal is upset and she doesn’t know I’m calling you. Normally, I wouldn’t get in the middle of anything.”
“Upset with me?” What the hell? I can’t think of a thing she’d be mad about and frankly, I’d expect her to call me on whatever I’d done.
“No. Mal doesn’t have girlfriends. You know her background. And she said she’s made Veronica mad. She asked her to come back and work some more. Veronica also wouldn’t take some money she offered. I really don’t understand what happened. It’s like figuring out a fucking origami puzzle to read through what Mal says about it. But she’s been moping a little and I think it’s over this.”
I sit in a club chair stuck into an alcove. “Tell me what to do.”
“Help me, man. I don’t always understand women, but I’d like to see my girl smile this week. Can you convince Veronica we need the help?”
“I’ve got this.” I relax into the cushions of the seat. I end the call and get to my feet. There’s a crowd waiting to get inside the club now and it takes a few minutes to reenter. People stand in groups and our table is hidden in the back.
When I get there, I’m relieved to see Veronica still in place. I don’t know why I keep thinking she’ll disappear on me. Dylan, Jordy, and Emerson aren’t with her. I scoot in close.
“Where’d they go?”
She points to the dance floor. “Dancing. Look at Dylan and Emerson.”
I follow her gaze. Emerson’s got moves like … well, like a stripper, and Dylan appears to be enjoying every gyrating move. “That,” I say while shaking my head, “is not a good idea.”
“I don’t know. They look cute together.”
“Don’t let appearances deceive you.”
I pick up my glass and take a swig. It’s a plain Coke and clearly not what I ordered. I search the area for our waitress.
Veronica rests her hand on my arm. “I want you to know you are terrific. And gorgeous. Terrifically gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” I say with hesitation at her strange speech. “I think you’re…” I notice the empty glass in front of her. “You need another drink?”
She raises one eyebrow and then the other. “No. There’s something wrong with their fountain machine.”
“Why do you say that?” Understanding dawns in a slow crackle.
Her mouth quirks. “At the store, I’m the one who always hooks up the syrup to the machine because I’m the only one who can get it right.”
I could explain she’s emptied my rum and Coke. Instead, I grab her hand and rub my fingers over the knuckles. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
She nods and I pull her up from the seat.
We walk to the bar where I pay my tab and stroll hand-in-hand to the exit. The hotel is large, with several restaurants and another bar. I guide her to the elevator.
“Where are we going?” Veronica leans in to me as the doors close.
I loop my arm around her waist and she doesn’t resist. She’s not drunk, or at least I hope it would take more than one drink, but she’s relaxed and friendly. The devil on my shoulder anxiously waits for me to lose the gentleman act and take anything I can get—a touch, kiss, any physical contact.
I push the elevator button. “Let’s go sit where it’s quiet.”
“You’re not taking me to a room, are you?” She smiles a not-so-sober smile. Or maybe it’s a flirty smile. Either way, it sucks to be the nice guy.
The little devil on my shoulder stabs his cocktail-sized pitchfork into my neck.
“Only to the pool.” The elevator doors slide open and we exit. I stayed at this hotel once, when I looked for a place to live in St. Louis. The top floor is an enclosed pool. Skylights and glass walls make it possible to see the entire city and the sky full of stars.
I hold the door open for her, reluctant to release her waist.
She inhales audibly. “I love this.” She does a little twirl to see this world in 360 degrees before she stops, grabs for the front of my shirt, and pulls me in for a hug. “Did I tell you today that you are incredible?”
My expectation was she’d suspect I planned to have my way with her and rake my ass over the coals. The little devil on my shoulder would scurry off with a see-ya-later.
But she’s doing none of the things I expected, and I can’t believe one drink has her this carefree.
“You feeling okay?” I ask. I take her hand and lead her to the nearest chaise lounge.
“Oh yeah. Totally fine.” She reclines against the padding and swings her legs onto the seat.
“Uh-huh. You sound totally fine.” I laugh.
“Sit back with me. Look,” she says, pointing skyward.
“It’s pretty epic.”
It’s a full moon. Stars, glittering like someone has tossed crystals onto black velvet, shine for us.
She snuggles into the crook of my arm, kicks off her borrowed heels, and sighs. “If I could store away one little snapshot from my life, this view would be one. Have you ever seen anything like it? When I was little, I would dream about the ocean. We never had enough money to go and my friends would bring back their sea shells from a trip and I’d wish, just once, that I could spend a day collecting the beautiful things from my dreams. Those tiny pink shells…”
I lean my head on hers and try to see what she sees.
It’s a damn romantic scene in a movie. The hot chick and Leonardo on the bow of the Titanic. The badass guy kissing Rachel McAdams in the rain. Not that I’m admitting I’ve seen either movie.
I’m not that guy. But this moment makes me want to be, if only because her head feels so right
on my shoulder.
So instead of following through with my original thought to get as far into her little black dress as possible, I toss the devil on my shoulder into the pool and hope he drowns. “We can stay like this until time to leave. Dylan or Jordy will call us when they’re ready. Go ahead. Collect your dreams.”
12
Veronica
I’m at the kitchen table with the phone pressed tightly to my ear. “Shawn’s out of the hospital?”
On the other end of the line, Gunner pauses as if sensing my distress. “He’s out and he’s not telling anyone it was me. He says he doesn’t remember what happened.”
“You know that’s a lie.”
“I don’t care if it is. You need to come home. If he comes near you again, I’ll put him in the ground.”
I sigh. “Gunner. You almost killed him this time.”
We’re both silent for several seconds. Gunner coughs. “He won’t come near you again. I promise.”
“I’ll talk to you later. Take care of yourself. I’ve gotta go.” I press END and cup the phone against my breastbone.
When I was a kid, I had this fantasy I would wake up one day and discover my life was a big mistake. A mistake because my mama really didn’t belong to me and Jerry wasn’t Gunner’s dad. Instead, I belonged to this other family in town, the Browns. I had piles of money stacked away in the closet. My family drove nice cars that didn’t break down and require the Browns’ dad, Peter, to constantly fix them. I wore new clothes to school every fall. I didn’t have to be embarrassed about having a free lunch.
I was a kid and thought money fixed everything.
And then I got older and realized I wouldn’t trade my step-brother Gunner for all the money in the world. Some of Jerry’s old crew tried to lure Gunner into taking up where Jerry left off. They must’ve thought, ‘Like father like son.’ I heard Gunner talking to them one night at the store when Grandpa still owned it.
“Stay away from me and stay away from Veronica. I don’t need your money. I’m not Jerry. You come here again and I’m calling the cops.” He’d stood as tall and formidable as a seventeen-year-old is able.
