by Karen Renee
I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t smile, or worse, laugh. I forgot she could be such a cute drunk.
“I got it, Cassie. Can you calm down for a moment?”
She crossed her arms under her breasts which only highlighted her cleavage in the scoop-neck dress. My dick twitched, and it was all I could do not to groan.
“I’m perfectly calm,” she declared. Her voice had lowered to a normal level.
I nodded. “Great. Let me ask you this, were you having fun dancing out there?”
Her lips started to twist, but she stopped them and lifted her chin mulishly. “Yes, I was.”
I gave into my grin. “Liar. You were not.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not a know-it-all, Gabe. Don’t try to start now.” She ended her admonishment with her lips pouted.
Fuck. I wanted to kiss her again, but now she was drunk. Okay, maybe just tipsy, but still. I couldn’t take advantage of her like that.
“Let me take you home,” I said.
She shook her head. “I came with Stacey and Kaylee. I’m not leaving with you.”
“Why?”
I hadn’t meant to ask, but I couldn’t stop the reflex. There should be no reason she wouldn’t feel safe leaving with me.
“Because.”
I arched a brow. “Because, why, honey?”
Her arms fell to her sides as she sighed. “I came with them. That’s why.”
“Cassie?” a woman called from the opening to the alcove.
“Hey, Stacey. Have you met Gabe? Or some people call him, G-Rock.”
The woman smiled. “No, but I know who he is. Are you okay?”
“Yes. Just arguing with my buddy, here. As per usual,” she said.
I smiled the most charming smile I could muster. “It’s nice to meet you, Stacey, but I think it might be better if Cassie went home. I live in the same complex as she does, so—”
“I might not have met you, but I know plenty about you, Gabe.” She turned her eyes to Cassie. “You want to go home already? We’ve only been here an hour.”
Stacey kept her gaze leveled on Cassie, but she wasn’t saying anything.
“So, Cassie-Cass, what’s it gonna be? You tearin’ it up on the floor tonight or what?”
She turned back to me. “I should go tear it up as you say, but I’ll let you take me home.” A devious light hit her eyes, and she added, “As long as I’m not cramping your style, G-Rock.”
With my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her to my side. “You would never cramp my style, Cassandra. You got a purse you need to grab or something?”
Stacey stepped forward. “I got her phone right here. You better not fuck with her head like you did the last time. Kaylee might let that shit slide, but I don’t.”
Cassie’s head tilted. “Stacey, that’s so sweet. And Kaylee didn’t let it slide, I just didn’t tell her anything, and then she moved. And moving sucks,” she said, drawing out the word ‘sucks’.
My dick twitched harder at that, and I deep breathed through it. What I wouldn’t give to hear her repeat that word, begging me to suck her clit. My dick didn’t twitch at that thought, it swelled, and I shuffled my feet while thinking about spreadsheets and anything remotely not-sexy.
When I looked up, I found Stacey staring at me, and she abruptly smiled as though she knew my discomfort.
“Moving does suck, Cassie. If you’re sure you’ll be safe with Gabe here, I’ll leave you be.”
Cassie made a dismissive noise. “As if. Gabe’s so protective of me, it’s like I’m the little sister he never had.”
Stacey’s head tilted and her face turned skeptical, but it was lost on Cassandra. “If you say so, Cassie. See you later.”
Cassie looked up to me, “What was that about, you think?”
I looked into her green eyes and saw they were bright and shiny. She’d definitely hit her limit.
“I don’t know. You ready to go?” No way I thought about her as my little sister, but if she thought that, so be it.
“Yep,” she chirped.
I led her to my truck, fighting a grin the entire way.
12
Fishbowls
Gabe
“WHY ARE WE LEAVING, again?” she asked.
I glanced at her, and her eyes were pointed out the passenger window.
I stopped smiling before I spoke. “You're pissed.”
I could hear the smile in my voice, and wished it hadn't been so obvious.
“Why do you sound so pleased about that?” She demanded.
I choked on my laughter.
“Gabe Sullivan,” she shoved my bicep, “there's nothing funny here.”
“I wasn't laughing because anything's funny.”
“Really? Last I checked, people laugh to show humor.”
“I'm not pleased you're angry. I laughed because you’re so cute it's amusing.”
She huffed an exhale.
As I reached for the radio, she spoke.
“Why are we leaving?”
Her circling back to her original topic was a good sign. She didn't seem as drunk.
“We left because you don't need to be with a guy like Brenden.”
“How would you know who I do or don’t need to be with? And for fuck’s sake, we were dancing.”
I swallowed my laughter.
“You were two minutes away from it not being ‘dancing.’”
“You’re wrong, Sullivan.”
Her calling me ‘Sullivan’ was getting old fast.
Before I could mention it, she asked, “How do you know him anyway?”
“Used to hang with him,” I said to the windshield.
“Now you don’t.”
“Yeah, but I know he’s an asshole.”
She smiled at me and a strange feeling invaded my chest. “Just like you introduced yourself. Maybe he’s just my type.”
I shook my head. “No, he sets the bar for being an asshole, Cassie.”
“You dragged me away all because you didn’t like seeing me with a guy you hate.”
“His daddy made a date rape charge against him go away.”
“What,” she breathed, and I realized the alcohol still had hold of her. After a moment she whispered, “Wow.”
“Yeah, so like I said, he’s more assholish than most.”
“Definitely more than you.”
I didn’t reply to that and we slipped into an easy silence. I parked outside her building and shut down my truck to walk her up.
“I can get in on my own, Gabe. Only had two drinks.”
My eyes widened. “They must’ve been fishbowls then.”
She giggled. I loved that sound.
“No, but they were potent,” she said, angling out of my truck.
I walked behind her into her apartment. After she put her phone on the counter, she turned to me.
“It’s good to know we aren’t some rom-com or something.”
“What?” I barked. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“You know, dragging me away from a man because if you can’t have me then nobody can? I’m glad that’s not what’s going on here. And before I forget, thanks for getting me away from Brenden. You’re a lifesaver.”
Shit. I wasn’t a lifesaver. She hit it right on the head the first time. I couldn’t have her, and I’d be damned if I watched someone else take her.
Cassie
I HAD BEEN SO BUSY that two weeks had passed since I last saw Gabe.
My job at Club Eclectic proved more challenging than I expected, which was good. Nothing notable to report to my dad, though, was bad. Maybe Ryan had anxiety and channeled it outwardly. Yet my dad’s instincts were good, and I had no reason to distrust mine, either. I went to work day in and day out with eyes open for something amiss. I had been pulling overtime, though I was salary, but always left before eight at night.
I’d moved to Saturday morning volunteer shifts at the shelter. Gabe’s schedule kept
him from being anywhere before noon. I told myself I didn’t choose this time to avoid him, but I knew it was a lie.
I left the animal shelter a little after three in the afternoon. The lighter traffic on Colonial meant I pulled up to my building in twenty minutes.
My phone rang, and I saw my older sister, Serafina, was calling me. “Now, that’s unexpected,” I muttered as I debated answering.
I shook my head and answered the call anyway.
“Hello, Serafina,” I drawled.
She sighed. “Just Sera works, runt.”
The smile on my face fell. “Any particular reason you called?”
“Wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be dropping by the house. Rafael and I are here, and we’re staying the night. I heard you had to spend the night unexpectedly not long ago, and I need to be sure that won’t be happening this weekend.”
My brow arched. “Shouldn’t matter if I’m there or not, Sera. I mean, you’ll be in a room with your husband, just like any other night, right?”
She paused, and I suspected she didn’t want me to hear her exhale.
“Will you be coming by or not, Cassandra?”
I grinned, but kept my tone neutral. “Don’t want to see me this trip, Sera? I mean, you drove all this way from Miami. Don’t you want to visit with your runt sister?”
“This visit isn’t purely social, Cassandra. Some of us have full-time jobs and other interests to take care of.”
My sister went to the University of Miami, and she had even graduated with a liberal arts degree. But, no two ways about it, she went to Miami specifically to land a husband. Her full-time job was being trophy-wife to Rafael, but maybe Sera had finally decided to branch out.
Rather than rise to her bait about my lack of employment, I answered her question. “No, Sera. I shouldn’t be back at Dad and Mother’s house this weekend.”
“Good,” she murmured.
My lips pulled into a frown. It never failed. Every time I took her calls, I thought, hoped, prayed our relationship would change. That my big sister would see me as an adult and someone she could talk to, at the least. Our conversations always ended the same, with animosity or distant tolerance, which left me disappointed and sad to my very marrow.
What the hell I’d ever done to her, I would never know.
“Is there anything else, Sera?” I asked.
“Actually, yes. There is.”
13
How Are We Friends, Again?
Gabe
I WOKE UP AT QUARTER to noon with major morning wood. It was a serious injustice that I couldn’t remember the dream which caused it.
Aside from a quick lay or my fist, my only relief would come from a good workout.
After using the bathroom, I dragged my ass out to the living room.
Brock stood at the breakfast bar with his phone to his ear. “Yeah. Otero sent me that stuff. I start my probationary period Monday.”
He listened for a moment and I mouthed the word “Clint” at him.
Brock nodded at me.
“Yeah, uh, Gabe just got up. You still hittin’ the gym?”
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” I said, loud enough Clint should have heard me. Brock nodded at me again.
“I would, but I’m not a member.”
Pause.
“Whatever. I start earning real money, maybe I will.”
Another pause.
“He’s never been too smart.”
The tone and smile on Brock’s face told me he was talking about me. I flicked him my middle finger, and went to put on some gym clothes.
CLINT STOOD BEHIND my head as I bench-pressed the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound bar. I wondered if I was taking my life in my own hands when he spotted for me, because his attention was always split between me and any women walking around the gym.
Before I could give him shit about it, as I did every time we worked out, he gazed down at me. “How many gigs do you have lined up at Club Eclectic?”
I moved the bar to the stand and sat up. “Three more before Pruitt gets to renegotiate my contract.”
“Know you aren’t there often, but what’s your take on that place?”
I shrugged. “He needs to specialize. He’s not targeting LGBTQ, but he isn’t going full throttle to target heterosexuals either. He also isn’t hitting the college kids hard enough. He wants to see what the club will be. Wants it to play out like the name, let it be eclectic. That shit won’t work since he’s just starting out. Every business needs a target customer, you know.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“No, but I asked how long before he’ll focus his efforts. He couldn’t or wouldn’t say.”
Clint nodded. “You are a contractor to him. I can see him keeping tight on that.”
I tilted my head toward my shoulder and back. “Yeah, but it helps for any DJ to know the crowd they’re playing to.”
“What do you mean?”
“My first gig there, he had a completely mixed bag. There were people in their forties there, and college-aged people. A well-dressed whiskey-drinking man wants me to play nineties hip-hop, I’m not gonna say no. That’s bad all around, right?”
“Right,” he drawled.
“End of the night, Ryan gave me shit about it, since he watched groups of twenty-somethings walk out the door while the song played.”
“Yeah, but did he see your point?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. He asked how I knew Cassie.”
Clint’s chin dipped. “What’s Cassie got to do with it?”
“She’s working there. In the office, but she worked late the night of my first gig, and I ran into her.”
Clint’s lips twisted skeptically, but he motioned for me to get up, and he took my spot on the bench.
I moved behind him. “Not gonna add more weight?”
“Not today,” He muttered and gripped the bar. “What are you gonna do with the cash?”
His abrupt subject change caught me off guard. “What cash?”
“Don’t play dumb. Brock told me about the inheritance.” He grunted as he lifted the weight.
“I don’t know, except I really don’t want it.”
Clint snorted. “Damn, Brock wasn’t joking when he said you weren’t smart. Some bitch wants to give me two-hundred and fifty grand, I’m all over that. Besides, you damn sure need a new truck.”
I sighed since the latest repairs had set me back over five hundred dollars. “Yeah, but I’m not getting a new truck because she gave me the money for it.”
He racked the barbell but didn’t sit up. “To hear Brock tell it, she’s been providing—”
“I don’t care. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna give in now.”
He began another set. “Stubbornness don’t pay the bills, Gabe.”
“Yeah, well, resentment isn’t healthy either. And a truck would fill me with resentment every day.”
When he rested the weight on the rack, he said, “Must be nice to turn down so much money.”
“Whatever. I’m outta here, man,” I muttered.
I made a quick trip to the locker room and drove home.
Cassie
“WHAT ELSE DO YOU HAVE to tell me?” I asked my sister.
“Oh, yes, your cat died,” Sera said off-handedly.
I gasped. “No! Mom died?”
She sighed. “Mom the cat, yes. Not our mother.”
I blew out a breath as tears welled in my eyes. “Of course, because God forbid, I call my mother anything but what you call her.”
“If there’s nothing else, Cassandra...”
“Where is she? Is Dad burying her?”
She sighed again. “I don’t know. You’ll have to call him to find out. Now, I’m sorry for your loss, but really, if it were that important to you, you’d have chosen to live somewhere where you could take your precious animal with you.”
How was I related to two of the coldest bitches in Florida? Maybe the nation?
; “Bye, Sera,” I said, and hung up before I could hear her outraged response or admonishment.
I laid my forearms over the steering wheel and put my head on top of them. Tears rolled down my face. After a few minutes, a sharp knock on the passenger window made me jerk up my head.
I looked over and saw Gabe crouched and peering into my car. My lungs froze, as they always did when his deep blue eyes looked at me.
Rather than roll down the window, I unlocked the doors, and he slid into my car.
“What is wrong, Cass? Jesus, are you crying?”
“Mom died,” I said.
I realized how that sounded, shook my head, caught his super-concerned gaze and quickly added, “Mom is a cat. Her name was Mom-cat. My mother didn’t die. She also never allows me to call her anything but ‘Mother.’” I stressed the last word with a deeper tone of voice and a proper pronunciation.
He blinked at me twice and I noticed sweat along his hairline. He was wearing a black tank-top and basketball shorts. Whoever said the struggle is real never sat next to Gabe Sullivan, because that clichéd slang saying fell short of exactly how difficult the struggle happened to be. I wanted to launch myself at him, but since it wasn’t the first time and likely wouldn’t be the last time, I tamped my desire down.
After a successful failure to launch, I caught his eyes again. He looked annoyed.
“She makes you call her ‘Mother’?”
I nodded, but wondered why his voice dipped an octave as he said ‘mother.’
The side of his mouth tipped up. “You heard of Danzig?”
“Are we talking about a band?” I asked, because eighty percent of our conversations revolved around music.
He nodded once. “Yeah, but the band name is the lead singer’s last name. Didn’t you see the movie The Hangover Part III?”
I grimaced. “They lost me after the second one.”
He scoffed. “How are we friends, again?”
With a side eye, I muttered, “You’re lucky you’ve got friends, G-Rock.”
He nudged my shoulder with his, then whipped out his phone, saying, “Whatevs. You need to listen to the song.”
A heavy metal guitar and a steady hi-hat beat filled my car, and it was sexy as hell. Then again, nearly every song Gabe introduced me to held sexy undertones. Four bars into the song, a deep male voice sang, “Mother.”
