Make Me Stay: The Panic Series

by Sidney Halston

  There’s something about this woman.

  It’s not just the way she looks. It’s not just the easy flirty banter.

  She’s mysterious.

  At first glance she seems like an open book. I mean, I know she wants to kiss me, even though she’s hesitating. But her expressive big blue eyes tell me that she’s hiding an entire world of information. Not just from me, but from everyone. She kind of reminds me of myself. Outwardly she looks fine. But there’s something more profound going on beneath the surface. And I think she’s worth sticking around for and digging deeper. I’ve never felt the need to get to know a woman, but I want to with this one. And I’m not even sure why.

  “Wow, this is beautiful,” she says, standing close to the artwork, her hand hovering close but not actually touching it. “I can’t believe he has two Picassos.”

  “I don’t know much about art, but this one is pretty cool.”

  She turns those big clear blues at me. “Cool?” She snorts and shakes her head. “Are you that spoiled that a Picasso is just a cool thing?”

  “No. I mean, well…okay, I’ve seen it so many times I forget it’s an important piece of art.”

  “Look at the colors. The way her eyes are at different angles, almost like it’s two different women, one standing in front of the other.”

  I look at the painting, never having dissected it.

  “Art should make you feel something. ‘Cool’?” She shakes her head again. “That’s not a feeling. What does it make you feel, Matt?”

  I look at it—really look at it—for the first time.

  “It shows her different sides. It shows the complexity of women,” I begin. But as I look at it a little longer, I realize that the painting is about more than that. “Well, not just women. We all have two sides, I guess. The one we show the world,” I say, pointing to the eye that is staring out at us, “and the one we hide from the world.” I point to the eye that is looking sideways, the one we only see the side of. “She’s thinking. No, I think she’s plotting. She reminds me of the people who come here. They want to forget their troubles, but their troubles are going to be there when they walk out of the club.” I can feel June’s eyes on me, but I keep looking at the painting. The big painted eyelashes look fake, much like the rest of the figure on the canvas. “I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t like what?”

  “The painting. I don’t like it.” I finally turn and notice how intently she’s looking at me. “You asked me what I thought.”

  “I know. But I didn’t expect you to go that deep with it. Did you come up with all that just now?”

  I shrug uncomfortably and pull her close. “Let’s talk about you some more, shall we?” I change the subject. “I like this casual look on you. I think leggings should be incorporated into our date.”

  “You don’t like deep. Got it,” she observes, not letting a single damn thing slide. But I don’t care, I don’t want to talk about anything else right now other than her and those tight-ass pants.

  “You like seafood?” I ask, and she looks confused. “For our date, tonight?”

  “Oh.” She breaks into a smile. “I prefer steak.”

  I laugh. “Of course you do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She has her hands on her hips now and is leaning back a little.

  Her skin is so smooth and soft, and I can’t help rubbing my face against hers, though what I really want is to rub my entire body against hers. “I just like that you know what you want. It’s refreshing and sexy at the same time.”

  “Well, this will really turn you on,” she says in that gritty voice of hers. “I want to eat a big juicy steak for dinner, with a baked potato slathered in butter. I may even lick my fingers like the lady that I am.”

  I groan. “God, that’s so hot.”

  Before I can say anything else, someone knocks on the door, startling us. “Lynn’s outside!” Jamie, one of our employees, bellows from the other side.

  “Be right there!”

  “Lynn?”

  “The company that delivers our provisions—mixers, stirrers, shit like that.”

  “Oh…okay.”

  “Let me go sign for it. I’ll be right back,” I say, then kiss her cheek and walk away. But before I leave I can’t help but add, “And I like that you got a little jealous there. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

  I’m downstairs reviewing an order when I see June and Nick walk out of the elevator together. “Left my wallet,” Nick says, and hurries off.

  “Hey, sorry this is taking so long,” I apologize to her, but she looks…off. Like she’s seen a ghost.

  “It’s cool. No problem,” she says quickly, sounding flustered. “I’ll let you get to work. Text me the location of the restaurant for tonight.”

  I put the pen down and place my hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”

  “Fine. I accidentally went into your brother’s office thinking it was yours. I think he’s mad.”

  I chuckle. Oh, so the issue is Nick. Yep…it was bound to happen. “So now you’ve met dick Nick, as opposed to nice Nick. Don’t sweat it.”

  “He looked really mad.”

  “I warned you he was a jerk.”

  “Guess you did. But I shouldn’t have been in his office.”

  “It was a mistake, no big deal.”

  The Lynn driver is waiting impatiently, which June notices. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says.

  “I’ll text you later, sweetheart,” I say, looking down at a clipboard.

  “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.” She kisses my cheek and practically runs away, but I stop her right before she walks out the door.

  “And Junebug? I’m spending the rest of the day finding a steakhouse where you can wear those leggings.”

  She snorts loudly and leaves the club.

  Chapter 4

  I can’t believe I’m nervous. I’m never nervous. Not in front of a judge or a jury and definitely not with a woman. But here I am, changing outfits again, like a pussy. I want to impress her but I also want her to feel at ease. I just want to get to know her, is the bottom line. I sent her a text earlier today that said, Even though I can’t stop picturing you in those leggings, I want to take you somewhere nice. So we’ll have to leave the leggings for when we do other, more physically intensive activities. The Mad Cow in Brickell at eight.

  You’re a dangerous man, Mateo, she texted back. See you at eight.

  Mateo. Hmmm. That throws me for a loop. No one calls me Mateo, and I don’t even remember telling her that was my name. But I guess I did.

  My foot bobs up and down as I wait for her to arrive. I’m twenty minutes early, and the server has already asked me three times if I want a drink. Taking a long inhale, I try to calm my nerves. My lack of attention span and my excess energy have always been my biggest flaws, and it takes some serious concentration and self-awareness for me to calm down and focus.

  When I look up for the umpteenth time, I see June walking in wearing a short canary-yellow dress. My breath hitches, and the mental talk I just gave myself flies out the window. I want to make things so perfect, I’m actually jittery. Standing up, I wave just as she finds me among the crowd. With a big unguarded smile she walks straight to me.

  “You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

  She bats her eyelashes and smiles coquettishly. “You say that to all the girls.”

  “I don’t.” I’m serious—I want her to know this isn’t a line. “Truly, June. Wow.”

  The tension is thick, and I know I’m not being my usual playful self, which seems to leave her disconcerted. “Thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself.” She runs her hand up and down my lavender tie. We are staring at each other, and it seems as if the world has paused around us. There’s no sound. No movement. Just me and June. Something has shifted. I’m not sure what it is, but the way she’s looking at me is different.

  Clearing my throat, I gesture for her to sit. I’m unsure
what to talk about or why she’s looking at me the way she is.

  I unwrap the cloth napkin from the fork and knife and lay it on my lap. Then, without really giving it much thought, I grab the fork and move it around in my fingers.

  “God, I’m nervous,” she says with an awkward-sounding laugh.

  “You are?” I’m surprised—she seems so put-together and confident.

  “Of course I am. I don’t date all that much. Do you?”

  “No, actually I don’t either. I’m kind of feeling outta my depth here.”

  She doesn’t say anything in response, so I continue. “And if I’m being completely honest, I’ve been partying kind of hard lately. Mostly drinking, and being on this date completely sober like this…I’m not sure you’ll find me fun or funny. Maybe you’re bored out of your skull at this very moment, or maybe I’m sounding like a complete pussy right now and you want to run away.”

  Honesty is my mantra. I don’t lie to women. In fact, I don’t lie, period. However, this is possibly way too much honesty for a first date. I’m waiting to see what she says, my fingers twisting around the fork in anticipation. She is looking at me, mulling it over.

  “Thank you for being honest.” She lets out a long exhale. “I feel a little better knowing I’m not the only one who’s nervous.”

  “No. Definitely not. So, tell me, why don’t you date much? I mean, you’re pretty stunning. I can’t imagine men aren’t falling at your feet to go out with you.”

  She shrugs. “I tend to scare men away.”

  “Probably ’cause you pour martinis on their head. As dating behavior goes, that’s usually frowned upon.”

  She giggles loudly, and damn, that sexy, girly giggle makes me want to reach over and kiss her.

  “If you can believe it, that was the first time I ever did such a thing. Although, truth be told, I’ve been known to slam doors and throw things when I’m angry.”

  “Can’t really say that surprises me. I am, however, a little more nervous now. I better not do anything to piss you off.”

  She laughs again. “Both times the guys deserved it.”

  “I’m sure they did.” I smile, smitten by this woman. “You intrigue me, June. Tell me more about yourself. Your family?”

  “My father was a cop.”

  “Ahh, so that’s where you get your badassness from.”

  She giggles again. “Can I just say, I’ve never giggled before. Not once. Like, ever in my life, I think. You’re really funny, Matt.”

  “I like it when you laugh. And when you smile. I’ll make sure to keep doing whatever I’m doing to keep you smiling, sweetheart.”

  Her face pinks, and she looks down before gathering herself and fixing her gaze back on me through those thick lashes. “Maybe subconsciously that’s where I get my hotheaded streak from, yes. But I don’t remember him very much. He died in the line of duty when I was a baby.”

  Shit. I mentally kick my own ass.

  “Sorry for bringing that up, June.”

  “No, it’s okay, it’s fine. It’s actually nice to talk about it.” I get the feeling that she’s not the type of woman who opens up easily, and it makes me feel ten feet tall that she’s doing it with me.

  “How about your mom?”

  “My mom was never in the picture. She had Crohn’s disease and died from an infection soon after I was born.”

  The server comes by, and we both order before I nudge her to continue her story.

  “I lived with my grandmother for a few years, and when she passed away I went from foster home to foster home. It wasn’t easy, and at seventeen I got my GED and started working as a waitress. Paid my way through college and eventually was hired at—at—” She stammers for a moment before she continues, “As a rep for Pharmtech.” She sighs. “Like I said, I haven’t dated much either. Actually, if I’m being honest, I don’t even really have any friends. I’ve been busy surviving, working, moving forward.” She pauses and glances down, then looks back up at me. “Yeah, I’m definitely nervous. Which I guess is the reason for me telling you this sad, not-appropriate-for-a-first-date story.”

  “This isn’t really a first date, though. We’ve had all those other dates.” I wink. “You’re pretty fuckin’ incredible, Junebug. I had my father’s help every step of the way, but you had to do it all alone.”

  “It made me learn real fast who to trust.”

  “And me? You trust me?”

  “Jury’s still out on that one,” she sasses.

  “Trust is really important for me, so I hope I can earn it.”

  She averts her eyes, and I’m about to ask her if I said something to make her uncomfortable, but at that moment the food arrives.

  A couple of minutes later, once we’ve gotten started on our dinner, I decide to go with my first impulse. “Did I say something wrong?” I cut a piece of steak and shove it in my mouth, my eyes on her, waiting for her to put me out of my misery.

  “Nope. Nothing at all.” She smiles, but there’s something off about her smile.

  “Tell me more about your job.”

  “Uh…nothing more to tell. I travel a lot. I’m actually leaving on Monday.”

  “How often is a lot?”

  “Pretty often, a few times a month. I like it, though. I like seeing different places.”

  “I haven’t traveled much myself.”

  “Is it that you don’t like it?” she asks, as if it’s a deal breaker.

  “No. I’ve just been busy. Law school, work, now the club.”

  “Maybe you should take a break, see the world.”

  “Maybe I should,” I say with a smile.

  Eventually the vibe shifts back to a cool, relaxed feeling, and the conversation flows so easily that before we know it, we’re done eating.

  “Oh my goodness, I’m stuffed,” she groans, patting her stomach. “I have a food baby.”

  I look at her swollen stomach and chuckle. “You didn’t even eat half of the steak.”

  “Yeah, I did. And I also ate all that bread and that potato, and now I’m going to eat a slice of key lime pie.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep. I may go into a carb coma after this.”

  I signal for the server and order her dessert, which we share.

  “This was fun, June. When can we do it again?” I ask, putting my fork down on the empty dessert plate.

  “I’m still on the current date and you want me to think about the next one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, when would you like to see me again?”

  “When? Well, I’m hoping I’ll see you all night long and then for breakfast, but I have a feeling you’re going to put a halt to my fantasy.”

  “Smart man. Anyway, I told you, I’m traveling next week.”

  “All of next week?” I’m crestfallen by this news, even though the truth is I’ll probably be too busy to see her anyway.

  “Pretty much, yes. I leave Monday and come back Friday night.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Texas.”

  “Texas is a big state. Where, specifically?” I chuckle.

  “Um…” She takes the napkin and fidgets with it. “Houston.”

  “I have to be in court most of next week. It’ll be crazy at the firm.”

  “So I guess it works out, then. You’ll be busy and I’ll be busy.”

  “How about tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow? Sunday?”

  I chuckle again. “Yes. That usually falls after Saturday.”

  “I can’t. I’m busy. But next Friday, when I get back from my trip, that would work.”

  “Should I be worried about a husband or pissed-off boyfriend?”

  “No, why?” she practically yelps. Her answers are coming out more like questions and she looks like she’s about to rip the napkin in half. I reach forward and gently pry the napkin out of her hand. “No reason. Just wanted to make sure.”

  She smiles and her shoulders rela
x. “Sorry, sorry. Okay, so Friday it is. I can meet you at the club.”

  “No, I’ll make you dinner at my house.”

  “What? No. That…no.”

  “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. I promise.”

  “Yeah, right. I thought we already established you’re no gentleman. And anyway, isn’t the only reason you drive down on weekends to help in the club?”

  “Well, looks like now I have a second reason,” I say with a wink.

  —

  “You hired Stephanie?” Nick asks before he’s all the way into my office.

  I close the screen of my laptop and look at my brother. He’s a mess. He has bags under his eyes, he looks like he’s lost weight, and he has crumbs in his stupid beard. “What the fuck happened to you?”

  “You can’t hire staff based on the size of their tits and ass,” he lectures.

  “Excuse me?” I push my chair back, but then I take a breath and force myself to relax.

  “Who the hell is this Stephanie chick? Does she have any experience? Where the hell did you find her? Aside from your bed.”

  With my hands laced together on top of the desk, I’m the picture of calm, cool, and collected. It’s why I make the big bucks at the firm. I can tell you to go fuck yourself with a smile on my face. It’s a gift, really. “I didn’t fuck her, if that’s what you’re saying, not that it’s any of your business. She’s Blue’s sister and she was just laid off from Fritz’s. She’s been a server for eight years. Her rack has nothing to do with it, asshole.”

  “W-well…” He’s stuttering slightly. I’ve got him right where I want him—feeling guilty for jumping to conclusions. “You need to run these things by me first.”

  “Why? Margo quit. We needed a server. Blue mentioned her. I interviewed her. She’s perfect. I was trying to get one thing off your plate.” I shrug.

  “I don’t need help,” he snarls, then turns around and slams the door behind him. I stare at the empty room for a minute before opening my laptop again.

  Asshole.

  Naomi is going to be the death of him. He’s always been strung tight, but this is a new low for him. I get back to working on a contract I drafted for a party that’ll be going down at the club in a few months and will bring us nearly five figures in revenue.