by Jiffy Kate
“You can’t let this guy win,” she says earnestly, squeezing tighter on my hands, forcing me to look her square in the eyes. “What would you do without this place…what would this place do without you?” Adamantly, she begins shaking her head. “No, I don’t accept this. We’ll figure this out…we have to.”
She’s right. I know she is. I just don’t know where I’m going to get the money to fight it. Between keeping the shop running, sending my mama money, and paying Rory’s tuition, I’m strapped pretty tight. I have a little in savings, but that’s the only safety net I have.
“I know what you need,” Carys says, her tone brightening and her smile coming back. “Shep will be back in town tonight and it’s his thirtieth birthday. Mav and I want to surprise him with a few friends at Come Again.”
“No.”
Without breaking stride, she ignores my refusal and continues. “Just a few drinks and Sarah is making some finger foods.”
“No.”
“We thought we could meet around eight. Since it’s a weekday night, Shaw said we could have the back table and stay as long as we want. He offered to shut it down for us, but I thought that as long as we have a table to ourselves, we should be good.”
When she finally stops, I’m staring at her with an eyebrow quirked. She knows there’s no way in hell I’m going to a party for Shep. Carys knows everything. She knows about the weekend we spent together and how amazing it was and the fact he ghosted me. Like, poof, gone.
I swear, it’s like he erased me from his memory. Even when we’re forced to be in the same room, his eyes always skip over me. He’s only spoken to me a few times, when he has to. I’m constantly feeling self-conscious, like maybe I smell…or maybe I was a really terrible lay. He seemed to enjoy it at the time, but what if he was pretending?
My battered psyche doesn’t need that kind of abuse tonight. All the second-guessing and self-doubt? No, thank you.
“Please come,” Carys begs, turning the puppy dog eyes on me. “And not even for Shep. We’ll just pretend like he’s not there. Come because you need a night out and Avery will be there. We can drink on her behalf and commiserate together. It’ll be good for you.”
“Sarah’s cooking?” I ask, feeling weak and in need of carbs to mask my anguish.
Her smile grows and she nods her head. “Yeah, crab cakes, mini muffulettas, shrimp po’boys…bread pudding with rum sauce…”
“Are you trying to seduce me or talk me into a party?”
“Both,” she replies, waggling her eyebrows. “I mean, you haven’t been laid in like, what? Two years. You’re basically a virgin again.”
“You whore,” I whisper-yell.
Carys’s smile turns into a smirk. “Proud of it.”
After a few seconds, the door chimes and a new customer walks in, ending our impromptu therapy session. “So, you’ll come?” she asks, hopefully.
I smile at the man and woman walking up to the counter and greet them, but Carys is persistent and she doesn’t take no for an answer.
“His grandfather just died,” she whispers, pulling out the big guns.
I didn’t know that and now I feel bad. Even though Shep did me wrong, I would never wish any ill will toward him. Actually, the thought of him in pain or mourning makes me sad, which is ridiculous. I should relish in his pain…maybe have a voodoo doll fashioned after him and use it as a pincushion. But instead, I feel for him and in a moment of weakness, I cave.
“Fine, I’ll be there.”
Carys claps her hands and if it weren’t for the customers, she probably would’ve jumped up and down. “Yay, okay, it’ll be great. I’ll see you tonight.”
Somehow, a few minutes in Carys’s presence and I feel lighter than I have in days.
Chapter 5
Shep
“Really, man, we don’t have to do anything. It’s just a birthday and we can celebrate anytime. Isn’t that what being in New Orleans is all about?”
“True,” Maverick agrees, “but it’s not just any birthday; it’s a big one. You’re fucking thirty! Plus, I know being back in Dallas was shit and I have no doubt you need to blow off some serious steam.”
That would be the understatement of the year.
“Okay, fine. One drink. We can do something bigger later, if you want, but for tonight, I’m taking it easy. You know, because I’m so old and mature now,” I say with a wink.
“What the fuck ever, man.” Mav claps his hand on my shoulder as he opens the door to Come Again, letting me enter first.
“Surprise!”
For a second I worry I’m having a stroke. Not that I’ve ever experienced one before but it’s the only explanation my brain can come up with. For one thing, Come Again is dark inside. If you didn’t already know it was open, you’d probably pass it by. Sometimes I wonder if Shaw, the owner, even wants customers.
Second, there are more people screaming surprise at me than I know here, which is a very odd feeling. I’m sure those I don’t know are customers just being nice, but still…weird. And third, I’ve never had a surprise party thrown for me before and I honestly don’t know how to react.
I’m quite sure I’m mastering the deer in the headlights look, though.
Once my eyes have adjusted to my surroundings, I give my best friend a look that hopefully conveys “thank you” in addition to “I’m going to kick your ass for this”. He just laughs and nods his head as if to say “you can fucking try.”
One drink will not be enough tonight, I can already tell.
Managing to plaster on what, I hope, looks like a genuine smile, I give the crowd a wave before Maverick ushers me to the small group of people who actually know who the hell I am. Carys is here, of course, along with Jules and…low and behold, the Ice Queen, herself, CeCe Calhoun.
Holy fucking hell.
She must’ve been told this party was for my funeral because there’s no way she’s actually here to celebrate my birth. The woman hates me and for good reason, too. I’m sure she assumes I feel the same about her, but she’d be wrong. She just doesn’t need to know that.
Both Carys and Jules greet me with warm hugs and birthday wishes, but all I get from CeCe is a mock “cheers” motion with her shot glass that is immediately emptied down her throat. I watch as she throws her head back, elongating that graceful neck of hers, and making me wish—not for the first time—for a repeat of the weekend we spent together almost two years ago.
Clearing my throat, I tell the group I’m heading to the bar to see what’s on tap.
“Happy birthday, Shep!” I’m greeted by Avery, Shaw’s fiancé, who stops wiping down the bar to focus on me. “What can I get you?” She places her hands on her stomach—her very round stomach—and I’m reminded she’s pregnant. Very pregnant, in fact.
“Thanks, I’ll just have a local dark beer but I can wait for someone else to pour it. Or I can pour it myself, if you’d like. You shouldn’t be pouring my beer in your, uh, condition.” I wave my hand in the general direction of her belly. I’m not sure why I’m acting so weird about this. I know she should be able to work whenever and wherever she wants but it just feels wrong somehow.
Avery laughs but when Shaw walks behind her, I see him nod his head at me while murmuring, “I knew I liked this one.” This causes her to roll her eyes and place her hands where her hips would normally be.
“Are you saying, just because I’m pregnant, I can’t pour a beer?”
The corner of Shaw’s mouth quirks up slightly and I can tell he’s amused by her challenge. “No, my love. You can do anything you want. I’m simply appreciative of Shepard’s manners, that’s all.” He kisses the tip of her nose and rubs his hand across her stomach before walking off, leaving his wife a virtual pile of goo.
That’s a man who knows what he’s doing, to be sure, and as much as I’ve come to know and respect Shaw O’Sullivan, I still feel strange about witnessing their interaction. I’m not used to most forms of affection, public or otherw
ise, and I find myself caught between wanting to observe the moment closely and wanting to run far, far away.
As soon as my beer is in my hand, I dip my head in appreciation and leave.
Walking back over to the table, my mood immediately takes a sharp right turn. There’s a spread of food fit for a king and the rich aroma is taking over this corner of the bar, making my mouth water and making me forget all about the stupid surprise party.
Now, this is something I can appreciate.
“Did Sarah do this?” I ask no one in particular, zoning in on small white bowls full of what looks like crawfish etouffee. I may not be a local just yet, but I know my Cajun food.
“She sure did. Dig in!” Carys answers.
Sarah is Shaw’s sister who runs the cooking school next door. I’ve had her cooking before and it’s one of my favorite things about this city. Truthfully, you can’t go wrong anywhere you eat down here but Sarah’s food is…special.
There’s a smorgasbord of fried seafood and finger foods and I waste no time piling it all on my plate, along with the crawfish etouffee. I’ll worry about calories and cholesterol tomorrow. This is nothing a little gym time won’t fix. I’m willing to put in a few extra hours for a few minutes of buttery bliss.
“Save some room for the bread pudding,” CeCe warns. I don’t know what shocks me more, the fact there’s bread pudding for dessert or that CeCe actually spoke to me. I look at her then back at my plate before reluctantly putting one of my muffulettas back on its tray. I don’t miss the smirk that crosses her face either.
There are some days when I think it’s a shame CeCe and I have the relationship we do, or don’t have, I guess I should say. We’re different in a lot of ways but, deep down, I think we’re more similar than either of us would like to admit. Other days, I think our time together ended exactly the way it was supposed to. Unfortunately, it causes our forced time together now to be awkward and strained. There’s no getting around it with her being best friends with my best friend’s…person.
Who knows? Maybe now that I’m here permanently, we’ll get over it and forge some sort of friend status. I’ve never been friends with anyone I’ve slept with in the past, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. I’ve also never fucked someone who was a permanent fixture in my life. Probably should’ve thought that one through a little better, but what can I say? My dick doesn’t take those sorts of things into consideration and he wanted her, plain and simple.
If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t regret my weekend with her. It was hands down the most intense sex of my life. We locked ourselves away in my hotel room and didn’t surface until I was forced to leave and fly back to Dallas. Thank God. Because if I’m still being honest with myself, if I hadn’t had business to attend to, I might’ve never left.
Every time I see her, I can hear her moans of pleasure and taste the memory of her on my tongue. And then I want to fucking kick myself in the balls for it, because that’s not me.
But I do wonder if CeCe ever thinks about it. The way her eyes narrow and her smile fades every time she sees me, I’d guess it’s a time she’d rather forget.
As the night moves on, the customers thin out, leaving our small group with a bit more privacy. Shaw has assured us we can stay as long as we’d like and since the drinks are still flowing, we take him up on his generosity.
“How’s your family doing?” Carys asks, catching me off guard. It takes me a second to realize she’s asking about how my family is dealing with their grief over my grandfather dying.
“They’re fine, same as always,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. I can tell my answer isn’t exactly what Carys was expecting by the confused look she gives Maverick. Surely, he’s explained to her the Rhys-Jones’s don’t grieve or experience any other emotions normal people do.
Although, they were quite angry after the reading of the will.
“You know what, that’s incorrect,” I start, feeling the half a dozen beers loosening up my words and making them spill out of my mouth. “When I left Dallas, my parents were experiencing something completely brand new to them: their asses being handed to them.”
Maverick cocks an eyebrow at me, setting his glass on the table. “What the hell happened? I’ve been meaning to ask how everything went after the funeral.”
“It was… fucking awesome,” I tell him truthfully, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. I still can’t believe how it all went down. “It was almost like one of those dramatic scenes from a movie with everyone hanging on the words of a dead man.” My mind wanders back to that room and the words of my grandfather’s lawyer. Absentmindedly, I tell him, “They received absolutely nothing.”
“You’re shitting me?” Maverick deadpans, pushing back from the table a little as he tilts his head, like he didn’t hear me right.
“Nothing,” I repeat, letting it sink in.
Everyone at our table has expressions that match Mav’s and I can’t help but laugh. It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it since it happened, but it is the first time I’ve said it out loud.
I’ve thought a lot about my inheritance and subsequent demands in order to collect it, but I haven’t truly let it all sink in.
My mother and father were completely left out of the old man’s will.
The alcohol is definitely helping.
“Absolutely nothing,” I repeat, before continuing my story, addressing everyone but Maverick, because he already knows this shit. “My grandfather was rich. I mean, motherfucking rich. The bastard was worth hundreds of millions of dollars and he left it all to two people.”
I’m quite enjoying telling this story in such a dramatic fashion, so I let my audience simmer a bit while I finish my drink.
“Shepard Rhys-Jones, you better finish your story right this second. I feel like I’m watching one of my Bravo shows and we just went to a commercial break!” This comes from Jules, who truly looks distraught but yet ready to soak up any theatrics I let loose.
“He left me one hundred million dollars, with conditions, of course…” I hear a variety of gasps and choking sounds and one very clear “holy shit” from CeCe’s direction. “And the rest is for my grandfather’s lawyer, the executor of his will and trust, and he’s to distribute the remaining millions to various charities, per his specific instructions. It’s quite the scandal, I tell you. Or, it would be if anyone knew, so y’all better keep this among us. I’d hate for rumors about my family to be spread.”
I bust out laughing, not only at what I thought was a hilarious joke but also, at the expressions on everyone’s faces. I understand it’s hard for some people to wrap their heads around that amount of money, but if they really think I care about my family’s reputation, they’re mistaken.
Maverick is the first one to speak. “Wait. Back up. What the fuck did your father do? Did your mother pass out?”
“She very nearly did. She was so distraught, she canceled the dinner she’d had planned with some society skank and her family, which was a huge relief to me. As for my father, he immediately called his lawyers to see about contesting the will but we were all assured it’s very legal and very set in stone. I’m sure he’s still trying to figure out some kind of loophole, though. He’ll never accept this.”
“Damn, I kinda wish I could’ve seen that.”
“You and all of Dallas society, I’m sure.”
“Who was the skank?” he asks, the only person at the table who’s moved past the one hundred million dollars portion of the story.
“Foster Crawford’s sister, Felicity. Can you believe that shit?” Like me, Maverick hated Foster while we were in school.
“Fuck that. I’m glad you were able to dodge that bullet.”
“Enough about the skank,” Jules finally says, shaking his head like he’s clearing a magic eight ball. “Tell us what you’re planning on doing with all that money!” He looks so excited; I almost feel bad about disappointing him with my answer.
&nbs
p; “I’m not taking the money.”
“What?!” Everyone at the table reacts in unison.
“I’m not taking it.”
“Why the hell not?” Carys asks, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock.
“Because I have to be married for a year before I can touch it and since I never plan on getting married, I will never get the money.”
I’ve thought about it a lot since the reading of the will and I’m at peace with my decision. It sucks big time that I won’t be able to help our business out with the extra cash but marriage is a hard limit for me. Besides, who would I marry anyway? No way will I legally attach myself to any of the women my mother constantly throws at me. Not for all of my grandfather’s money, would I do that.
“Well, honey, I’d love to help you out and marry you just to see the look on your parents’ faces but I don’t know if my reputation could handle it. Sorry, but you’re a little too straight for me to pull off, so to speak.” Jules winks at me.
I laugh but thank him for his thoughtfulness.
“Wow, that’s a crazy situation but I’m proud of you for sticking to your guns,” Maverick tells me and I know he means it. He’d never guilt me into doing anything shady for any reason, even if it would mean helping our business.
Shrugging, I reply, “Thanks. In a way, I get to help my grandfather stick it to my parents by not taking the money, so I’m good with it.”
“I’ll marry you.”
I assume my ears are playing tricks on me. Surely, I imagined those words floating across the table in my direction. There’s no way that just happened, so I pretend I didn’t hear it.
Our table goes completely quiet, so when the words are spoken again, this time stronger and a bit louder, I have no choice but to acknowledge them. Turning toward CeCe, who up until this moment has remained absolutely quiet, I quirk an eyebrow at her, daring her to repeat it a third time.
“I will,” she says with a nod. “I’ll marry you.”
Chapter 6
