Rowdy

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Rowdy Page 4

by Jay Crownover


  The upstairs was mostly empty. There was an office Cora shared with the boys and a whole bunch of empty space that was just waiting to be filled up and turned into a trendy, retro tattoo boutique. It would make money. The boys just needed to stop waffling about what they wanted to put up here and just do it. I think the idea of shopping and building an online store was kind of daunting to them and really Phil’s passing was still pretty fresh, so everyone was just trying to find their footing as business owners still. It was a good thing I was here. This was right up my alley. I loved clothes. I loved tattoo and pinup culture. I couldn’t wait to make the Marked and the men behind it a household name.

  I walked into Cora’s messy office and sat in the chair across from her desk. She didn’t walk around the other side but instead just jumped up on the edge in front of me and swung her legs back and forth. She had eyes that were two different colors, so it was easy just to stare at her in awe. I had to respect that she didn’t beat around the bush when she immediately laid into me.

  “Look, Salem, I like you. I like you quite a bit actually and I think you are just what we all need for the next phase of this business once the boys get their shit together. But Rowdy is my family and he’s been off of his game since that first day we hired you and I don’t just mean professionally. I don’t know everything, but I do know that ever since you showed up he hasn’t been himself and that I don’t like at all.”

  I pulled my hair over my shoulder and ran my fingers through the dark strands.

  “What exactly do you know?” I kept my tone light and curious, wondering if maybe he had shared with her his underlying reasons for seeming so fired up about me popping back up in his life.

  She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. She really was just the cutest thing ever.

  “I know that he burns through girls at an alarming rate and that they all thank him afterward. I know none of them stick and yet he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you.”

  Well, that wasn’t exactly what I had been after and I think she knew it. When I arched a dark eyebrow at her she gave me a coy grin.

  “He never sticks with the same girl for more than a minute, which isn’t exactly unusual with this crew. The rest of them put plenty of miles on the sheets until they found the right girl. Only Rowdy has mentioned more than once that he already met the right girl and she didn’t want him, so now there is no reason to look for the one. He told me that the one just happened to be your sister. She broke him, so now he’s all about a good time and not taking anything or anyone too seriously. At least he was until you walked in the door. He seems pretty fucking serious about you.”

  I crossed my legs and looked down at the peep-toe cut out of my pumps. They were black and had red bows on the heels. They were supercute and went awesome with my fitted, red pencil skirt. I dressed the way I did to feel sexy and in control. I rocked a look that attracted attention, and I did it mostly because I had been so disparaged when I was younger and I liked the positive response it always got. No amount of style and panache could dull the sharp edge of the blade that cut through me at the reminder that Rowdy had loved my little sister.

  I looked back up at Cora and nodded a little. “He did love Poppy. The family that lived next to mine in Loveless took Rowdy in as a foster kid when he was ten. They were supernice but had a bucket load of kids, their own and ones from the state. Rowdy was shy, quiet, and really sad. Poppy and I were playing tag out front one day and she just happened to see him sitting on the front porch. I remember him watching us but not saying anything and she ran over and asked him to play with us.”

  I felt a soft smile pull at my lips at the memory. Even then he had been tall for his age and lanky. There was also no way to miss that glittery gold hair and those bright blue eyes in a town that was predominantly inhabited by Mexican-American families. He was something else. Something new and uncertain, something exciting and unexpected in a life that had forever seemed monotonous and bleak. Even though sadness and discontentment bled off of him back then, I could still see the strength and defiance in him that I so longed to have in myself. I wanted to soothe him but I also wanted to watch what happened when someone with that much untapped potential was set free. I wanted to live through him and stand beside him so I could feel what finally being untethered from the chains of conformity felt like. I also wanted to hug him and tell him it was okay to be sad, to be angry, to be lost and frustrated. I wanted to tell him he was all right just the way he was, like I so desperately longed to hear. Now I still wanted to tell him everything would be all right, but he wouldn’t stand still long enough for me to explain that I was here for him and now that we were both free we could flourish and grow into something amazing and unbreakable together. He just had to give me a chance.

  “I think he loved her from that moment on.” I sighed and looked down at my hands where they had unconsciously laced together. “My dad is a very traditional man. His family immigrated from Mexico City when he was just a baby and he really believes in the old way of doing things. He is hyperreligious and didn’t mind Poppy being friends with Rowdy because he was an orphan and his foster family were active members in our church, where my dad presided over the congregation. But he never would’ve condoned a romantic relationship between the two of them and Rowdy always knew that. It never stopped him from wearing his heart on his sleeve, though. I think he was just waiting for the two of them to get older, for them to go off to college, and then when Poppy was out from under my dad’s thumb, she would see they were meant to be together.”

  Cora’s legs stopped swinging and she looked me dead in the eye.

  “So what happened?”

  I barked out a dry laugh and pushed my long hair back over my shoulder. “Good question.”

  Now it was her turn to lift an incredulous eyebrow, only hers was dotted with a sparkly pink piercing.

  “You don’t know?”

  “Nope. All I know is he left school, left her, and just dropped off the map. I asked her about it a few times here and there over the years but she never gave me any details.”

  “Are you here for the job, Salem, or are you here for Rowdy?” It was very Cora to ask the question so bluntly.

  I could play it coquettish, smile and brush it off, but I liked her honesty and forthrightness, so I figured I should offer her the same. Plus I wasn’t afraid of any of this crew knowing I was here for one of their own. They should know that eventually they were going to have to share Rowdy with me.

  “Both. I came for both.”

  She made a noise that was a mix between a snort and a laugh and hopped off the desk.

  “I don’t think he has any idea what to do with you. I think he’s afraid of you.”

  I got to my feet and smoothed my hands down the fabric of my skirt. I watched as she made a noise of distress and pressed an arm across her chest. Her dual-colored eyes got big in her face.

  “Are you okay?”

  She made a face and turned a little pink. “I have to go. Apparently it’s time to feed my kid.”

  Aww . . . how sweet was that? “No worries. I got the shop for the rest of the day. I can manage whatever is left for the afternoon crowd.”

  She nodded and reached for her purse. I wasn’t surprised that it was zebra striped bright yellow and black. Cora was definitely colorful in appearance and personality.

  “Try and play nice with Rowdy for the rest of the day. Obviously the two of you need to have a come-to-Jesus talk, and if I have to put my foot up his ass in order to make him see that, then I will be happy to do it.”

  I followed her to the top of the stairs and put a hand on her shoulder before she could head down.

  “No. He needs to get there on his own. I’ve been letting him tiptoe around me for weeks and I’ve given him plenty of time to adjust to the idea that I’m back in his life and that I’m not going to go away. He’s obviously not ready for me yet.”

  She laughed a little and we made our way back into the shop. The
waiting room had gotten busy in the fifteen minutes I was upstairs, so it was going to take a second to get everyone situated and straightened out. She leaned over and whispered so only I could hear, “Just so you know, I would pay a small fortune to see him in those tight football pants he used to wear when he was younger. I Googled him once and saw a picture from when he played for Alabama.”

  She waved her hand dramatically in front of her face and gave me a little wave on her way out the front door. I had to laugh and just happened to look over my shoulder to catch Rowdy staring at me.

  For once, the angry gloss was gone from his eyes as he watched me unblinkingly. I saw it clear as day in that split second. The reason there was so much division and dissonance between us. The reason he couldn’t handle me being back in his life suddenly was mapped out in that sea of blue on blue. When Rowdy looked at me all he could see was the past and what he had suffered through then, the loss he had felt at my hands and the heartache he had been gifted by my sister. But for me, when I looked at him all I could see was the future and every promise and possibility that was wrapped up in the sexy, blond, and tattooed package that was grown-up Rowdy St. James. Some way, somehow, we had to start looking at the same thing if I was ever going to have a shot at showing him there was life after the one and life after loss, especially if the one was the wrong person for him all along and the loss was right in front of him wanting to make amends.

  CHAPTER 3

  Rowdy

  I WAS NEVER THE KIND of guy to turn my back on a good time. It was rare anymore that the entire group of friends I had immersed myself in and now called my family were all able to get together at the same time on the same day. So when Jet called me on his last night in town before he flew out to listen to some band play in Portland and demanded that I show up at the Bar because everyone was going to be there, I couldn’t think of reasonable or noncowardly excuse not to go.

  It was getting harder and harder to avoid Salem without making it absolutely noticeable and now that Cora had witnessed my epic overreaction when Salem had been on the verge of mentioning her sister . . . well, there was just no escaping the endless questions and speculative looks coming from those two-tone eyes. I loved Cora something fierce, but I didn’t have any desire for her to start sticking her fingers into old wounds. Those suckers had long since scabbed over, and even if the scar tissue they left behind was ugly and gnarled, it was way better than the festering hurt and leaking heartache the actual memories had tied to them.

  In an effort to prove not only to the girls but also to myself that I could play nice and that just seeing Salem in all her pretty, bronze beauty wasn’t going to drag me back to places I never wanted to go, I put my best FTW attitude on and went to the Bar. I figured I could do this for one night. I could fake my way through pretending like the very sight of her didn’t undo me from the inside. I just had to remind myself she was simply a stranger that I no longer knew. She was just a random and lovely Latin goddess covered in some of the prettiest, most detailed ink I had ever seen. I was a pro with the ladies and Salem was most assuredly all lady. I could be charming and slick. I could be engaging and friendly, and hopefully that would put her at ease and I would feel a little less like she was here in Denver to bring every terrible memory that haunted me to my front door.

  I thought it was a rock-solid plan. I thought I was going to pull it all off with no trouble, but then I hit the entrance. The first thing my eyes landed on wasn’t Ayden trying to get Jet to two-step with her to “Family Tradition,” or Rule and Shaw whispering with heads bent close together, or Rome tugging his little pixie around the side of the bar to where I knew his office was back behind all the liquor storage, or Nash and his pretty Saint pretending to play a game of pool while they really just made out next to the felt-covered table. No, the first thing my traitorous gaze clapped on to was Salem’s unmistakable curves where they were propped up so enticingly when she leaned over the bar as Asa beckoned her closer.

  Of course the first thing that slammed into my brain was the way her black-and-white skirt hugged her backside and hips as she leaned over on those crazy tall heels she liked to wear. Right on the tail end of that thought was the notion that Asa was probably getting one hell of a show if she had a low-cut top on, and for some reason that made my head feel like it was going to fucking implode. My back teeth clenched together and I literally saw a hot red haze when she tossed back her head and laughed at something the blond southerner said. Her dark hair swished across the curve of her ass and her husky laugh made something in my gut and below my belt get tight. Before I could think about what I was doing, I found myself walking toward the bar with hasty steps.

  I saw Asa notice my approach and he grinned at me knowingly as he purposely moved away to help another customer. I had to give it to the guy, he had killer taste in women. More often than not, now that he and I were the only unattached members of our little unit, we found ourselves good-naturedly fighting over the same girl at the end of the night. It was never anything serious and more than once it had turned into a sort of game to see which one of us could get the girl first. Considering both of us were blond and had our fair share of charisma, it was always a crapshoot to see who would win. He had the southern drawl working in his favor, but I had the fact that I was rocking plenty of ink and a retro-cool vibe a lot of ladies couldn’t seem to resist. I posted up next to Salem and took the Coors Light Asa set in front of me without having to ask for it. I narrowed my eyes at him a little and saw his grin go from friendly to speculative.

  “What’s up, Rowdy?”

  He always sounded like he had just stepped off of a farm in Kentucky. Ayden’s accent was hardly noticeable unless she was mad or excited, but Asa used his twang like a weapon against all unsuspecting women. I felt Salem turn from where she was leaning to look at me, but I ignored her and focused on Asa.

  “Not much.”

  “You haven’t been around much lately.” Now that all my friends were either married, practically married, or involved with their one true love, I tended to spend my free time hanging out here and shooting the shit with him. He would definitely have noticed that I had been cowering under a rock covered in my own fear and uncertainty for the last month or so. I went to make a smartass remark about him enjoying not having the competition around, when I heard Salem snort.

  I’d avoided being too close to her because she made me uneasy and I was just so physically aware of her. When I grabbed her the other day I had been driven by panic and fear, not out of a sudden need to touch her. However, being this close, seeing the midnight-sky color of those eyes and the way her mouth was always painted in a perfect, sexy pout, had blood rushing to parts of my body I didn’t want to be happy to see her. The way that ruby sitting at the corner of her mouth winked at me like it wanted me to bend down and lick it had me so that I suddenly couldn’t remember why I didn’t want to be close to her. The way her raven-dark brows danced up as I stared at her suddenly made me want to get as close as I could.

  “I’ve been busy.” I answered Asa’s question offhandedly while I continued to stare at this stranger that I had once known better than I knew myself.

  “Busy with what?”

  I jerked my head around and noticed he had a shit-eating grin on his face. The fact that I was dumbstruck by this woman was obviously apparent and he had no qualms about torturing me with that knowledge.

  I picked up the beer to have something to do with my hands and tilted my head to one side as Salem and I continued to watch each other. I was looking at her like she was going to attack at any second. I watched her like she was going to pounce and pull away all the good stuff I surrounded myself with now and all I would be left with was a blanket of threadbare awfulness that covered a life I didn’t want to remember.

  She was looking at me like I was the toy inside a Cracker Jack box. Her eyes shone like she had just found something she had been looking for and it was so much better than she imagined it being.


  I took a big swallow of beer and told her flatly, “I want to know why you’re in Denver, Salem.”

  She picked up her drink, something pink that smelled tangy and sweet, and took a sip. She pushed her heavy fall of hair over her shoulder and I looked down. Yep, Asa had gotten an eyeful. She had on a red lacy top that was cut low over the swells of her breasts and it looked like if she leaned in just the right way, the entire thing would fall down and expose her entire chest. She dressed provocative and alluring, but it was always sophisticated and very pulled together. She really did embody a modern-day Bettie Page.

  “I’m here because Phil wanted me here. He knew this was where I was supposed to be if I wanted to be happy.”

  I wasn’t expecting that answer, in fact I felt kind of like a dope for thinking she was going to say it had something to do with me being here. The little ding to my ego surprised me and I frowned.

  “What does that mean?”

  She just shrugged. “It means I’ve moved around a lot since I left Loveless. I never stay in any one place for very long and I’ve never managed to settle. I always thought that meant I was adventurous, that I had the soul of a gypsy, but Phil made me realize that I was always just looking for a safe place to land, a place to call home. I have never had that before.”

  “Denver is your safe place? You want this to be home now?”

  I got it. I mean, Phil had found me slumming in a disgusting tattoo parlor in Oklahoma apprenticing under a guy that was more interested in running meth out of his shop than tattooing or teaching me how to tattoo. Phil had a friend of a friend that mentioned me to him, and the fact I was young, really eager to learn, and legitimately loved art. He made a special trip to come see me, and without my knowing how it would play out, Phil Donovan had rescued me, brought me to Denver on his dime, taught me what I needed to know to have a successful career and how to make money off of art. Most importantly Phil had brought me into the fold of his family. Lonely wasn’t easy but I had done it for so long that at first I didn’t recognize what any of it was. Phil made Denver my safe place and my home as well.

 

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