One More Drink: New Year Bae-Solutions

by Wright, Elle

  Juke’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “I did.”

  Steeling myself, I went with bad ass bravado. “Good. I meant that shit.”

  Then, I walked away.

  Chapter Two

  Long Island No Tea

  JUKE

  “Wish in one hand, shit in the other. See which one fills up first.”

  A long time ago, my granny told me that shit. I’d just received the bad news that I’d gotten cut from the freshman football team because I was too slow. It was just one of many sayings she’d toss into the air as if it made perfect sense. Except, it didn’t make sense to me then because my world consisted of food, school, and sports. At the time, I thought she’d been sneaking sips of the gin she’d kept in her bedside drawer.

  Once I’d figured it out, though, my life changed. I could either spend all day wishing I’d made the team or I could work my ass off to make it a reality. I chose to run every morning until I increased my speed. I threw away the junk food and lost twenty pounds. I cut grass and raked leaves so that I could pay for a personal trainer. And I attended every football game and studied the plays. The next year, I made the team.

  Since then, I’d built my life with my granny’s words playing on repeat in my head. I considered myself successful—money in the bank, investments, property, good health. My bar was a focal point in my town, the hottest bar in area. Tourists and Wellspringers had put Brook’s Pub on the map. Not bad for a small town man who’d lost both parents before turning eight. I would continue to do my thing, too. Because whenever I wanted something? I worked for it, I planned for it, I pursued it.

  So… What the hell was I thinking?

  Ronnie had arrived at the bar, stunning in every way. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I hadn’t even bothered to hide my perusal. Not when she’d winked at me as she strolled toward her siblings. Not when she’d tipped her head at me after I’d personally delivered her a glass of champagne. Not when she’d turned every single muthafucka away who’d tried to holla. And definitely not when she’d blessed me with a knowing smile when the DJ played her favorite song, which also happened to be my favorite, “You Gots To Chill” by EPMD.

  The party was lit, but I didn’t give a fuck. Wellspring was home. The people here? Family. Yet, the only thing, the only person I wanted to be with tonight was her. I knew what I wanted. I’d known for a long time. Tonight, an opportunity had presented itself. Despite the amount of people there, the countless questions from my staff, and the many requests from other guests, I’d managed to end up right next to Ronnie just before the countdown started. I was ready, aimed, and I fuckin’ misfired. How the hell did my lips connect with her forehead and not her full mouth? Shit.

  “Um, sir!”

  Ouch. “Damn, Brooklyn.” I rubbed my forehead where she’d thumped the hell out of me. “What the hell was that for?” And why didn’t I notice she was still beside me and not on the other side of the bar with her husband and siblings?

  Brooklyn rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand in my face. “You’re not this stupid, Juke. But you are a punk.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Veronica!” Brooklyn raised her hands, mimicking a choke-hold. “I would shake your ass if I had the strength to make a difference. Or to make you fall.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Because no matter what was going on in my life, Brooklyn could always make me laugh. It’d been that way since we were in elementary school.

  “Seriously, Juke.” Brooklyn finished her glass of water. “My sister is hot as hell.”

  Ronnie was always beautiful, but tonight, she looked almost ethereal. Too perfect for this town or even this world. Definitely, for me. That tight ass dress, those legs, the hint of skin that begged me to reach out and touch her, made me want to drop to my knees and surrender. And that had been the plan. Until I’d choked. Now, she was gone and I was standing there watching her bless these other niggas with her smile.

  “Don’t you think I know that?” I grumbled.

  “You heard her. She wants you.”

  I thought about Ronnie’s confession to Brooklyn. I’d definitely be down for anything that involved her throwing herself on my dick. But it was more than that.

  There was something about Veronica Wells. From the moment she’d entered my bar with Bryson, I was intrigued. Because, damn, she was fine as hell. But she was also smart and funny and sweet. We’d bonded over music, more specifically hip-hop. The commonalities didn’t end with EPMD or Eric B. & Rakim either. Right there at her favorite barstool, we’d talked about our childhoods, politics, sports, and food. And every time I heard a Ronnie Story, I wanted to know more. Soon, I started looking forward to her visits—her smile, her scent… That ass.

  “The girl was waiting for you to make your move,” Brooklyn continued, “and you choked with a damn forehead kiss and a dopey smile. Ugh!” She thumped me again.

  That shit hurt.

  “Like you were her uncle or something,” she added. “No, like you were her brother. What’s the problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem.” I lied. There was a problem, one that I didn’t necessarily want to talk about tonight. Not yet.

  Brooklyn arched a brow and pressed her pointed nail against my nose. “Bullshit.”

  “Cut that shit out,” I grumbled, pushing her hand away from my face.

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I never could lie to her. “You’re not.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, Brooklyn said, “Okay, then. What happened?”

  Sighing, I pulled Brooklyn toward my private booth. Because we had to be alone for this conversation. The last thing I wanted was to be fodder for Wellspring’s morning gossip.

  “Sit,” I ordered.

  She did as I asked. Leaning forward, she whispered, “You’re impotent.”

  I laughed. “What?”

  Placing her hand over mine, she gave me her famous somber social worker, I’m-here-for-you gaze. “It’s okay to say it out loud. If you can’t perform, they have meds for that now.” She giggled, squeezing my hand. “I’m just kidding. What’s up?”

  I shook my head. “You’re crazy as hell.”

  “I’m so drunk right now,” she admitted. “This is what happens when the baby spends the night with Grandma. Drinks and lots of sex! Ha!” She clapped, cracking up at herself. “I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

  Once again, I couldn’t help but laugh at her antics. I arched a brow. “If you’re not Normal Brooklyn, why am I talking to you right now?”

  Her smile fell. “Good point.” Clearing her throat, she straightened in her seat. “Okay, I’ll pull myself together for this conversation. Go ahead.”

  I waved a server over and asked her to bring a pitcher of water and food to sober my friend up.

  “I just knew you were going to give us a show,” Brooklyn said.

  “I wanted to.”

  “For a long time.”

  “Yeah.”

  Brooklyn grinned. “I’m glad you’re finally admitting it.”

  Shrugging, I told her, “It is what it is.” Seconds later, the server arrived with water and a plate of hummus, whole-wheat pita chips, and veggies. The Drunk Special. I pushed the plate toward Brooklyn. “Eat this.”

  She dipped a piece of celery into the hummus and tasted it. Once she finished the stalk, she sat back. “I still don’t see the problem. Veronica was there, waiting for you. And you let her down. You let me down.”

  “And so was Laura.” I’d wanted to believe that I didn’t let Ronnie’s lips slip away because my friend just happened to enter the bar right when the clock struck midnight. But I couldn’t deny it’d played a role in the last minute decision to not kiss Ronnie the way I’d planned to tonight.

  Brooklyn glanced around the bar, presumably trying to find Laura in the crowd. Laura had disappeared up the stairs, heading to her apartment that I held vacant for her even though she rarely stayed in town longer than a month at a
time. Basically, she used my shit as a luxury storage unit. And I let her.

  “She’s upstairs,” I murmured.

  “Whatever. But what does Laura have to do with Ronnie? She’s not your woman. And why do you let her come up in here and ruin shit all the time? It’s been that way since we were young.”

  My off-and-on relationship with Laura exhausted the hell out of me on a daily basis. I spent a lot of time and money taking care of her. At one point, I thought we’d be more than friends, but she was as selfish as I was loyal.

  Still, I’d made sure she always had a place to stay or a spot in my bed when she wanted it. And, tonight, after disappearing for months, she’d walked into my damn bar like she owned it.

  “I get it. Believe me.” I shifted in my seat. “But she is something to me. Which is why I have to nip that shit in the bud before I even bring Ronnie into my life like that.”

  “Yeah. She’s at least three somethings.” Brooklyn held up three fingers. “A freeloading bitch, a nasty bitch, and a stupid bitch. I’m sure I can think of more, but you already know she ain’t shit. And you know I have no problem saying it to her face. I don’t give a fuck.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “No doubt.”

  My shoulders fell. “When I saw her come in, I couldn’t kiss Ronnie. I need to close that chapter before I make a move. Ronnie deserves that much.”

  Brooklyn let out a string of curses. “Fine. I guess I understand. I just can’t stand Laura’s crusty ass. Yep, she’s a crusty bitch.”

  I knew Brooklyn’s change of heart about Laura had everything to do with me. Years ago, it seemed inevitable that we’d end up together. Years of the back and forth between us, the will-they-won’t-they shit, had taken its toll on me, though. And Brooklyn had been there more than anyone else to witness the fallout.

  “You’ve been good to that trifling bitch.” Brooklyn shook her head in disgust. “You’ve always deserved better. I just wish you’d realize that.”

  “I know, Brooklyn. She won’t be here long.” She never was. But Laura would soon find out what it meant to not have me to fall back on anymore. “Once she sees the notice I left in her room, she’ll know it, too.”

  As if on cue, Laura barreled down the stairs and headed straight for us. “Juke!” She held up a piece of paper and shook it. “What the hell is this?”

  “An eviction notice,” I told her, keeping my eyes on Brooklyn.

  Laura sighed heavily. “Really? You’re really doing this to me?”

  I folded my arms over my chest and peered up at her. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”

  “No!” She smacked the paper down on the table. “This is bullshit.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I need you,” Laura whined.

  Maybe a few months ago, tears in her eyes would have affected me but now… I got nothing. “You always need something. Money, a place to stay, an orgasm, a job. But I don’t have any of that for you anymore.”

  “Brooklyn?” Laura glared at my friend. “Can you leave us alone?”

  I shook my head when Brooklyn shot me a questioning glance. “She’s fine right here,” I said. “You’re the one that’s leaving. Pack your shit. The room will be cleaned out tomorrow and the locks will be changed.”

  “I have nowhere else to go,” Laura cried. “You can’t do this to me. What about everything we’ve been through?” She grabbed my hand. “I came back because I wanted to give us a try.”

  “Oh, please,” Brooklyn muttered.

  Laura rolled her eyes at Brooklyn, before she met my waiting gaze again. “Juke, I was scared of us. You’ve always been so intense. But, baby, there’s no one else for me. You have to believe me. You’re the man I want.”

  I snickered, pulling my hand from her grasp. “I’m sure I am, now that you have to find a place to stay.”

  The mask slipped then. No more tears, no more pleading. The concern in Laura’s eyes… gone. “Dammit.” She let out a harsh breath. “Well, can I borrow a—”

  “No.”

  “After everything I’ve done for you?” she snapped.

  “What exactly have you done for me, Laura?” I asked. “Besides eat my food, drink my liquor, sleep in my apartment, and take my kindness for a weakness.”

  Laura shook her head. “No. You know we’re more than that.”

  “Only when you need something.” I raised a challenging brow. “Right?”

  “Forget this. I’m outta here,” she hissed.

  “Bye,” Brooklyn said. “Damn.”

  “Brooklyn,” I warned, pointing at the plate of food. “Eat.”

  “You’re going to regret this, Juke,” Laura shouted, drawing the attention of several guests. She picked up the eviction notice, ripped it, and tossed it in my face. “Fuck you! Fuck this damn small-ass town! I hate it here anyway.”

  Shit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several people moving closer to the booth.

  Brooklyn stood. “Wait a minute. I know you not—”

  I gripped her arm tightly, meeting her furious gaze and pleading with her silently not to cause an even bigger scene than the one developing.

  “Fine.” Brooklyn clamped her mouth shut and plopped back down into the seat. “I’ll just sit my ass down and eat this hummus.” She picked up a carrot and bit down on it hard.

  I mouthed a quick thank you to her before turning my attention back to Laura. “We’re not doing this. It’s over. Take your shit and leave.”

  Laura turned on her heel and stormed back up the stairs, hurling insults at random people the entire way and tossing glassware on the ground. So much for no scene, no gossip.

  “She’s a messy bitch, too,” Brooklyn said.

  I glared at her. “Don’t start.”

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, she ate a pita chip. “Eating hummus.”

  Sighing, I stood and announced to the crowd, “Nothing to see here. Drink, eat, and leave it the hell alone.” I smiled at Brooklyn. “I’ll send Carter over here.”

  Brooklyn smiled. “Please do. And, Juke?”

  “Yes?”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I know that.” I leaned over and kissed her brow. “Thanks for always being there.”

  “That’s exactly how brotherly a forehead kiss should be.”

  Laughing, I headed toward the bar. On the way, I stopped to pick up a broken glass and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. The party was back in full swing, the music was loud, and everyone seemed sufficiently uninterested in me and my drama. Until tomorrow when I’d hear about how Laura bashed me in the head with a glass before she told me I wasn’t shit and walked out, leaving me devastated. The joys of living in a small town. People couldn’t wait to tell the story, but it was never right and always outrageous by the time it spread around to everyone who cared to know.

  When I glanced around, I noticed Ronnie standing near the pool tables, looking my way. Now that I’d taken care of my Laura problem, there was nothing holding me back. I wanted to go to her, talk to her, finish what I’d hoped to start earlier. But when she turned her back on me and started talking to Bryson and Jordan, I decided to wait.

  Something else my granny used to say? “A delay is not a denial.” She was right. Tomorrow was another day, another chance to redeem myself. And I was definitely going to take it.

  Chapter Three

  Juke’s Winter Cider

  VERONICA

  “Make it stop!” I squeezed my knee, flinching as my friend Stacyee finished the last French braid in my hair. “I think you might have braided my scalp.”

  Stacyee laughed, swatting my shoulder. “Girl, stop being a baby. I don’t even braid tight.”

  Someone should have reminded me that braids and a hangover didn’t mix well. “I should have just put my hair in a ponytail and called it a day,” I grumbled, standing and stretching as soon as Stacyee was done. “Or maybe I should cut my hair short like Brooklyn.
”

  “Please, don’t.” Brooklyn set down her magazine. “My poor sister would be rocking hats until it grew out.”

  Stacyee gave Brooklyn a high-five. “Right?” She glanced at me. “No offense, but you have no hair skills. It’s best for you to keep your hair long.”

  “Shut up,” I mumbled, walking over to the mirror to check out the style Stacyee had given me. Nice. Easy. Me. They weren’t wrong. I’d never been able to do my hair. In college, I had a matching baseball cap for every outfit. And when I didn’t wear a hat, I donned my famous ponytail or braids. “Thanks, Stacyee. I appreciate you doing this.”

  Stacyee stuffed her hair products back in her bag. “I don’t know why you wanted braids. I just spent an hour and a half on your hair yesterday. And it looked damn good.”

  Bryson’s wife, Jordan, stepped into the room. “Y’all done? Dinner is almost ready.”

  The word “room” seemed so small for the space we were currently hiding out in while the men watched football and the kids screamed for no apparent reason. It was more like a luxury she shed, a secret haven complete with a small kitchen, a full bathroom, a bedroom, a sitting area, and a flat screen television.

  New Year’s dinner was at Jordan and Bryson’s home this year, which used to be our father’s home. Senior had willed it to my brother, with the caveat that he live in it for one year. Of course, that hadn’t gone over well with Bryson due to the abuse he’d experienced in this very home. If Jordan hadn’t wound up getting pregnant with my beautiful nieces, Bryson would have probably walked away from it all. And I wouldn’t have blamed him. From all accounts, Senior was a monster. I often considered myself lucky to have never experienced the evil side of him. Actually, I’d never experienced any side of him. Which, apparently was a good thing.

  I nodded. “Yep. All done.”

  “No!” Stacyee said. “I’m trying to figure out why Veronica wanted me to braid over my masterpiece.”

  I shrugged. “The party is over.”