by Ava Harrison
“Just ’cause you own the damn place doesn’t mean you can just show up. Where are your manners?” I chide. “Don’t you think the polite thing to do is see if you’re wanted? And for the record”—I glue him with my stare—“you’re not.”
“Until you stop fucking up, you’re my responsibility.”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m an adult. Leave me alone.”
“Hmm, funny you should say that ’cause last I checked an ‘adult’ doesn’t need his daddy to bail him out.”
“Actually I do believe dear old dad was too busy to bail me out.”
“Same shit, man. You’re old enough to know better, yet here we are and yet again you fuck up, so no. No, I won’t treat you like an adult. Not until you prove you can be one.”
I glare at him. “Why do you even bother? There’s no secret how you feel about me.” My teeth clench. Why is he here? Why does he care? Swallowing hard, I try to keep my anger at bay.
“You don’t know shit.”
“Well, I know I don’t want you here. I don’t need you here—”
“Oh, isn’t that rich,” he interrupts me vehemently. “So what are you doing with your life then? You got a job?”
“You know what I’m doing.”
“You started volunteering today.” He stares at me intently as he strides around the room. I watch as Spencer stops to look at each painting on the wall before turning his attention back to me.
“So, if you know that, why are you here?” I glower.
“Consider it me checking up on my investment.”
“Your investment?” I ask, but the moment the words leave my mouth I chastise myself for asking and caring what he means.
“I put a lot on the line reputation-wise to bail you out yet again. I’m double-checking you haven’t messed that up too.”
“Well, I haven’t, so you can go.”
“Not until you tell me what your next step is.”
I look down then back up and shrug.
“Pierce.” He sighs. “I don’t give a shit if you choose to waste your life partying. I have my own issues with work I need to deal with. But it hurts Mom, so do something. Anything. Look at you.”
“I paint.” I wave the wet brush in my hand.
“Yeah, and even that’s half-assed. You’re not dedicated. You have no goals. The only thing you’re good at is getting high and apparently fucking girls, but I’m telling you now, shape up or ship out.”
Not wanting to hear anymore, I turn my back on him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know I’m done. Message came in loud and clear. I’m a huge disappointment to everyone.
When I hear the door close, I pick up my brush and fling it across the room. Paint splatters everywhere, the wood splintering into tiny pieces across the floor. Reaching into my pocket, I grab my phone and shoot off one text.
Me: Where’s the party at?
Josie: Lit and then my place . . .
Me: Sounds like a plan.
Hours later and I’m at club Lit.
Lit is the hottest lounge in the city. The kind of place that costs a minimum of ten thousand dollars to get in. This isn’t a dance club. This is a prestige playground for the rich and famous.
It’s decadence and sin for the right price.
The booze is always flowing, and if you’re jonesing for something stronger, it’s only one rolled up dollar bill away.
From across the table, Josie is lining up a line of coke. Yeah, right in the middle of the fucking table, like she owns the place, but Lit is members only, so in truth, she kind of does.
She smiles up at me, a very flirtatious smile spreading across her face, and then winks. From this angle, I have ample view of her cleavage. She looks good. Not as good as Lindsey but good. A perfect distraction. As I study the outline of every curve she’s displaying, my dick agrees. Maybe I should just take her to the bathroom and fuck her already. That will rid me of the crap memories of my day.
After she does her line, she reaches the bill out, but I shake my head. If I want to fuck her, I can’t be getting coked up or I won’t be able to get it up. She gives me a knowing look.
My gaze moves away from her and focuses on the bottle of Grey Goose. I pull it to my mouth and take a swig. As it burns my throat, I feel Josie take a seat on my lap, her hips grinding into my semi. She moves seductively to the beat of the music. I don’t pay her much attention, though; I’m lost in the bottle. With each new swig, I come closer to oblivion. With every ounce of liquor that flows into my body, the pain from Spencer’s visit dissipates.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Everything hurts. My body aches. Where the hell am I? Painfully I open my eyes and notice I’m in my bed. How the hell did I get home?
Damn everything hurts.
My head pounds in my skull like a jackhammer on a new construction site.
All of a sudden last night rushes by. The club, the booze, and Josie.
Shit, is she here?
Fuck, did I bring her home with me?
That would be bad. No way would I be able to get rid of her if I did. She’d totally read this as me wanting to get back with her and that is the last thing I want.
My right hand pats the side of the bed next to me, and I’m thankful to find it empty. Then, my phone vibrates.
Carson: Where are you? You were supposed to be here at 9am
Shit, it’s nine twenty. I hop out of bed, ignoring the pain radiating from my body. I’ve never gotten dressed so fast in my life. Five minutes later I’m out the door. Not even showering, just brushing my teeth.
As soon as I get to Polaris, my first move is to head straight to Carson’s office. Just as I’m about to knock, I sense her presence behind me.
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
I don’t answer. I don’t even turn around.
“You’re pathetic. You’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” I fire over my shoulder.
“Maybe you aren’t drunk still, but I can smell you from here, which leads me to believe you’re hungover. Why are you here?”
“I need to be.”
“We are all better off without you, especially these kids. Don’t you think they’ve seen enough? They’ve had enough disappointment. You make me sick.”
The need to object has me turning around, but by the time I do, she’s already storming down the hall. My head pounds and the run-in with Lindsey is a bitter pill to swallow, but I still need to talk to Carson.
I knock.
“Come in.”
With a tentative step, I enter. Carson looks up from his desk and straight at me. From the reclining position he’s in, he repositions his body to lean toward me. His jaw sets as his head shakes one time. Enough to tell me how disappointed he is, enough to cut me down into a million broken pieces.
“Sit.”
“Carson, I’m s—”
He raises his hand. “This is how it’s going to go. You’re going to listen, and you’re going to listen good. You understand me?”
I nod.
“This is your come to Jesus moment. I’ll do this one time.” He stops speaking and his brows snap together. “One time.” His pupils flare as he appraises my attention to him. When he’s satisfied, he inclines his head. “I wasn’t very different than you once.”
My mouth drops. No way this man was like me. No one has their shit together more than him.
“Believe it or not, maybe worse. You get high and drunk, but you’re not violent.”
That’s what he thinks.
“Trust me, I know,” he says as if reading my mind. “I was volatile. Arrested multiple times in high school, the list was endless of my indiscretions, and then I met Mr. O’Brian. He was my mentor. He showed me there was another path, and yes, I still fucked up a bit, but eventually, I got my life back together, but it was a long road. You might not be violent, but you need help. Let me help you, Pierce. I know you’re more than this.”
His words k
nock the wind out of me. Carson believes I can be more.
Maybe he’s right.
Another day.
Another damn day.
Normally, I’m excited to go to the center. The kids bring me joy. But not today. Today I’m not excited.
I need to come to terms with the fact Pierce Lancaster isn’t going anywhere. Pierce has been “volunteering” at the club for a little over a week, but we haven’t worked together again since the hangover incident. I keep thinking he’ll somehow fuck up again and then he’ll be gone, but every day that he’s been scheduled over the past week, he’s there with that damn smug-ass smirk on his face. He’s the official bane of my existence. He drives me crazy.
I don’t know what it is about him. I don’t know if it’s that he’s so damn good-looking and sometimes I want to bash his head into the wall because he knows it or if it’s because I want to hate him; I’m desperate to hate him, but instead I see him with these kids and I wonder how I could possibly hate him.
I need to hold my resolve close, even if it’s false, even if it’s an illusion, and even if the only person I’m fooling with this resolve is myself.
“Hi, Miss Lindsey,” Toby says from across the room. Toby’s the youngest member of the club, and from what I’ve heard, he’s been with Carson since the beginning.
“Hey, Toby. Where is everyone?”
“Carson is teaching a few kids how to box, and I’m not sure where Pierce is.”
Pierce. Can’t he just go home already? My life would be so much easier if he were gone. But why? Why does his presence bother me so much? It’s not as if I still want him. That ship sailed a long time ago. Sailed and sank. Pierce Lancaster is my very own Titanic. Sure, from the outside he’s gorgeous, but no matter what happens, it’s still destined to go down.
“I’m heading to the storage room. Will you be okay here by yourself?” He laughs, assuring me without words that just because he’s the youngest here, it doesn’t mean he can’t fend for himself.
I step through the doorway and make it down the hall. Just as I’m opening the door to the storeroom, I collide with a hard body. My balance falters and I fear I’m going to fall.
Damn leg.
I brace for impact, but it never comes. Instead, arms wrap around me, pull me toward them and hold me close. I don’t need to open my eyes to know who holds me. I recognize his smell.
Inhale.
Vanilla and cinnamon. A hint of peppermint, too. He’s intoxicating, and I hate my traitorous body for softening at his touch.
“Let me go,” I grit through clenched teeth and push off him. I refuse to look. I know the smug look in his eye will be there. For fuck’s sake, I sniffed him.
I sniffed the enemy.
Now that my head is out of my ass, things have gotten better for me.
Working at Polaris has been much better than I expected. The kids are great and the company even better. Although I doubt the lady in question would agree. If anything, her need to avoid me is almost laughable. I don’t think anyone has ever wanted less to do with me than she does. It’s actually quite entertaining.
After she sniffed me, well, that was a game changer. She can pretend all she wants, but she’s not so immune to me as she pretends to be.
At first, getting her to acknowledge my existence was a challenge. Now it’s a full-out obsession. Getting under her skin and breaking her resistance is a damn obsession of mine. That probably makes me a giant asshole.
I don’t care.
Game on.
The thought makes me smile, and I’m so lost in thought that I legit walk straight into someone as I’m leaving the art store around the block from Polaris.
“Pierce?”
Speak of the devil. It’s like my thoughts conjured her up. How funny. “Well, hello, Lindsey,” I drawl, and her eyes go wide.
“What are you . . . what are you doing here?” she mutters. Her face turns a warm shade of pink. She’s cute when she’s frazzled.
“Buying paint,” I say so impassive that her mouth drops open.
“I mean obviously you are buying paint. But why?”
“Why are you buying paint?” I lift an eyebrow. I don’t know why I’m busting her chops and not just answering but fucking with her is just too much fun and I love watching her squirm and blush.
“Carson asked me to pick some up.” She places her hands on her hips and cocks her head. I want to smile so badly at her defiance, but instead, I bite it back and keep my face straight.
“So where are you off to now?” I ask, and by the way her sharp eyes bore into me it’s obvious I’m the last person she’d ever offer information to.
Her lips pucker. “As if I’d tell you. You’d probably just follow me to drive me insane,” she retorts with cold sarcasm.
“Or you can just ask me to go with you.” I wink.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because maybe you’re wrong about me.”
“Hmm, let me see.” She thinks for a minute and then opens her mouth. “Nope. Not wrong,” she deadpans and then takes a step to the left to pass me. I’m not going to let her off that easy. I step to my right, thus blocking her departure.
“Hey, that’s not fair. I have been on my best behavior the last week.”
“Yeah, only one giant hangover.”
“That was one time and I have been trying. Come on, Lindsey. You know I have been. Can’t you admit there might be a chance you’re wrong about me?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Give me one shot to prove I’m not a total douche. I’m not asking for much . . . just lunch.”
“No.” This time she just blatantly rolls her eyes, and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes. She’s trying really hard to hate me and for some reason, I find it funny.
“What do you have to lose?”
“I’m not going to agree to eat lunch with you. This is my free time. Why would I spend my free time with you?”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit petty? We’re going to be seeing each other every day for the next few months, so shouldn’t we make peace or something? Do you really hate me that much?”
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t care.”
“If you don’t care, what harm is it?” I reach into my pocket and pull out a quarter. “Here, fine. You don’t want to agree, so how about we make a little wager? Heads you have lunch with me. Tails I let you go about your day.”
“No chance.”
“Scared?”
“I don’t gamble, Pierce Lancaster, and offering that proves you haven’t changed.”
“Please,” I whisper, and I don’t know why I do, but I really want this. I really want to prove to Lindsey I can be more. I want her to believe in me like Carson does.
Something changed that day when Carson told me his story. The feeling I felt when Carson told me he believed in me was new. It inspired me. It breathed new life into me, and now that I’ve tasted the high from acceptance, I want Lindsey to see it too.
“Fine.”
Her answer has me releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Okay, here. You flip the coin.”
She shakes her head as she takes the coin from me. Our fingers touch and I swear there’s an electric current that pulses between us. I don’t know what this feeling is, but it’s there anyway.
“This is ridiculous,” she mumbles under her breath.
“Yeah, it just might be, but if you don’t, you know I’ll just keep annoying you. Every day at work.”
“This won’t change anything. I’ll flip your coin and if you win this one time, I’ll take you up on your offer. After, when we’re done and we’ll be done. It will never happen again. You understand me. It won’t change anything.”
I want to say it might, but I don’t. I just tip my head down.
“As you wish.”
“Tails I win?”
“Yep.” She moves her hand and flips the coin, covering it with her other ha
nd to stop the motion. We both look down and then she raises it.
My lips spread into a deep grin. “Okay, lucky, what are you in the mood to eat?”
“Lucky? Why are you calling me lucky? I lost.”
“Your loss is my gain, so in my eyes you’re lucky.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sushi. Next door. In. Out.”
At her words, I lick my lips.
“Head out of the gutter, Lancaster.”
“Never. It’s so comfortable there.”
Five minutes later, we’re sitting across the table from each other. The waitress just took our orders, and now neither of us is speaking. The silence is awkward. Lindsey is fiddling with the top of her glass. Uncomfortably. I decide to rip the Band-Aid right off.
“Why do you hate me? I know I was a dick, but still—”
“I’d rather just not deal with you,” she interrupts.
Well, that went well. “Can you at least try not to hate me?”
“No promises.”
“Can you at least promise to not try to get me thrown out of Polaris?”
Her eyes go wide. “I . . .” She seems frazzled at my request.
“Listen, I get it, you hate me, you’ve made your feeling for me quite clear, but really, can you refrain from trying to get me fired or better yet, maybe watch what you say? Regardless of what you think about me, it sucks to hear someone talk shit about it. It’s actually why . . .”
“Actually why what?”
“Nothing, forget about it.”
“Is that why—oh my God. Is that why you got wasted? Why you were hungover?”
I shrug, not willing to admit my weakness but also not willing to deny the truth. I did hear her. And I did use it as an excuse to get fucked-up.
She opens her mouth to respond, either to apologize or to berate me. I’m not in the mood for either option, but luck is on my side. I’m saved by the waitress.
I’ve never been more happy for a spicy tuna roll.
As much as I want to keep a straight face and not let him get to me, I can’t help but laugh at him. He’s making a complete ass of himself. The way he holds his chopsticks . . .
“What? I never learned.” He grins at me as the piece of spicy tuna falls to his plate at his crappy attempt to eat authentically.
