by Blake, Remy
* * *
It’s around eleven o’clock when we show up at the club. As usual, our names are down at the door and we don’t have to wait in line like the rest of Georgetown. When my father says to use the McAdam name to get ahead, I’m sure this isn’t what he has in mind, but it suits me just fine.
The bass of the music thumps inside my chest the moment we walk through the doors. There are bodies everywhere. Standing, sitting, dancing. Every inch of the dimly lit space is sprawling with people indulging in alcohol and the loss of their inhibitions.
“Damn,” Reid says, leaning over to me, straining his voice above the music. “Chrissy wasn’t kidding when she said this place would be packed.”
“Do you know where she is?” Grady interrupts. “I have plans to get laid tonight, and I need her friends to make that happen.”
And that was Grady summed up in a few words. He was the definition of a man whore. His bed was warm every night, and never by the same girl. Every one of them always wanted more, but he had rules, and settling down before college ended went against them all.
With Reid leading the way, we finally reach Chrissy and her very attractive group of friends. Holed up in a booth, bottles and shot glasses lining the table, it seems like they started the party without us.
“I guess it’s time to play catch up,” I call out.
The three of us throw down some shots, courtesy of Chrissy, and then split up. Thankfully, our tastes in girls never cross over. Like a well-oiled machine, Reid wastes his efforts on Chrissy, Grady heads over to the blonde, and I walk over to sweet-talk the dancing brunette.
Since I started noticing girls I’ve always had a type: dark, long hair, handful sized tits, and an ass that could hug my dick just right when I curl up behind her and slip it between her sweet cheeks.
Catching her gaze, I give her tight body a once-over. She shifts in my direction, almost like she’s now moving for me.
While I’m not a huge dancer, I will gladly hold on to her womanly curves and press up against her if she’s up for it. When I’m standing in front of her I lean down, lining my mouth up with her ear. “Chrissy said you’ve been waiting for me.”
I pull back to see her reaction, and she’s smirking enough for me to know she thinks I’m cheesy, but she’s curious. I raise an expectant eyebrow at her and she holds her hand out. “I’m Jade.”
“Connor.” I take hold, only to be interrupted by a ruckus coming from the booth beside us. It takes me a little more than five seconds to notice Reid is holding back a furious Grady from launching himself at a guy who’s blatantly goading him.
What the fuck? Can we have one night without this bullshit?
Stepping away from Jade, I walk around Reid and stand directly in front of Grady. “Just walk away from him, man.”
“Yeah, let’s go outside and get some fresh air,” Reid adds.
I give Grady’s shoulders a squeeze and Reid and I lead him to the exit. Once we’re safely outside, a significant distance between us and the dickhead inside, he begins to visibly calm down. Leaning against the wall, he pulls out a cigarette, lights it up, and takes a drag.
“I thought you fucking quit,” Reid muses.
“Really?” Grady sneers. “Like this is the time for you to care about my nicotine addiction.”
“Guys. Enough,” I interrupt. “What the fuck happened inside?”
“Seems like blondie had a crazy ex-boyfriend,” Reid explains.
“She told him to leave her alone, and the fucker grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her away,” Grady continues. “No fucking way was I gonna sit by and watch him bully her into leaving with him.”
“That was very chivalrous of you,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. But he just continues to glare at me. “Do you still want to go back inside?”
“You guys go, I’m just going to finish this and head home.”
Just as Reid and I are about to argue with him, the blonde girl steps out of the club, her eyes searching for someone. When her gaze lands on Grady, Reid and I give each other a knowing look and decide to leave them alone.
“Just hit us with a text if you don’t come back in,” I tell him before we walk away.
As our paths cross, the pretty little thing gives us a sad smile before giving Grady all her attention.
“Well, that sure was an interesting start to the night,” Reid says.
“Right.” We show the bouncers our stamps to get let back inside the club. “But we both know it’s how it ends that counts.”
2
Harper
“Mija,” my mother’s voice comes through before the picture quality clears up enough to see her face on my screen.
“Hola, Ma.” When we can both see each other, her whole face lights up, beaming at the sight of me. The vision alone is enough to both comfort me and make me cry. She insists on FaceTiming, and I adhere to her demands. No matter how much missing her kills me.
“Como estas mija? Como va todo por allá?” How are you? How’s everything going over there?
“Todo bien.” It’s all good. I force a smile I don’t really feel and try to hide the pool of misery I’m swimming in. They say misery loves company, but I just don’t need it to be my mother.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, the deep frown lines on her face making me feel guilty for giving her a reason to be concerned. Her speaking English hasn’t gone unnoticed either. It’s not like she doesn't know how to, but for as long as I can remember, she’s spoken to me in Spanish. English only reserved for emergencies and business.
“Nothing’s wrong, Ma. I’m just settling in, you know? The new apartment, the new job. King University keeps me busy, Ma.”
“Harper Guadalupe Martínez.”
I almost want to laugh at her use of my full name. Never in a million years did I think I would miss hearing her say it. She only ever does it when I’m in trouble, or as I got older, to call me on my bullshit.
The funniest part is, I don’t have a middle name. Being the youngest of the Martínez family, my mother wanted to give me my father’s mother’s name as a middle name. Lucky for me, my father convinced her that I would be better off with just one name.
Unfortunately that didn’t stop her from calling me Guadalupe whenever she wanted to get a rise out of me
“No le mientas a tu madre, jovencita. Bien puedo ver que algo te pasa. Alguien te está molestando? Te están tratando bien en el trabajo?” Don’t lie to your mother, young lady. I can tell something’s bothering you. Is someone bothering you? Are they treating you good at work?
I’m thirty-two years old and my mom is still babying me as if I were a little girl. I love it and hate it, but feeling loved and scared shitless at the very same time is something I’ve become accustomed to when it comes to the matriarch of the Martínez family.
“No, no. Todos se han portado muy bien conmigo. Incluso hice dos nuevos amigos. Cole y Miles.” No, no. Everyone’s been good to me. I even made two new friends. Cole and Miles.
“Oooh. Amigos varones. Son guapos? Solteros? Cuéntame.” Oooh. Male friends. Are they handsome? Single? Tell me everything.
I can’t help but laugh like a kid in a candy store, my mother’s biggest and brightest smile spreads across her face. Ever since my break up with Anthony, she’s been on the hunt to find me a new man.
“Ambos son profesores en la universidad. Muy guapos, pero no son solteros.” Both are fellow professors at the university. Very handsome, but not single.
“Que lastima. Pero tal vez tengan algún pariente soltero que te puedan presentar.” It’s a shame. But maybe they have some single relatives that they can introduce you to.
“Ma.” I groan at her comment. It’s the one moment I’m glad I’m living here and she’s not. She’s a busybody and wouldn’t hesitate to spread the word with my newfound friends that Harper needs a date. “I didn’t come here to meet a man, get married, and have his babies. I came here to work.”
“Okay, o
kay, mija. Yo solo decía.” Okay, okay, mija. I was just saying.
“Right. How are the boys?” I ask, changing the subject. Thanks to texting, my brothers and I talk almost everyday, but nobody knows the inside gossip like my mother.
“Cruz has been having a hard time since you left.” Glassy eyes stare back at me, and I hate knowing I’m responsible for his struggles. “He wanted to go with you, mija–”
“I know,” I say, cutting her off. My oldest brother, Cruz, has always been my knight in shining armor. My protector. I knew my news would hit him harder than anyone else in my family.
I knew he’d be the first person to arrive at my place that day. I was his little sister, and there was no role he took more seriously than being my older brother.
Knowing he’s still having a hard time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Tears I’ve tried so desperately to keep at bay begin to freely fall down my face.
“Lo siento mucho, Mamá. Perdóname por favor.” I try to catch my breath through the tears. “Si yo hubiera sabido...yo, yo hubiera tratado de.” I’m so sorry, Ma. Please forgive me. If I would’ve known, I would’ve tried to...
The words are stuck at the back of my throat, the truth of how foolish I was still a hard pill to swallow. Every day I ask myself the same question: How did I end up here?
“Lupita, escúchame bien. Tú no tienes la culpa de nada, y nosotros no tenemos nada que perdonarte. Estamos en esto juntos, y juntos vamos a salir adelante, mija.” Lupita, listen to me very carefully. This isn’t your fault and we don’t have anything to forgive. We’re in this together, and together we’ll figure a way out, mija.
The tears keep on coming as I furiously try to dry my face. It’s useless and a sad smile sits on my mom’s worried face as she watches me try to compose myself.
“I wish I was there right now, mija,” she soothes. “You need one of my healing hugs.”
“Te quiero mucho, Ma.” I love you so much, Ma.
“Yo también te quiero, Lupita. Eres nuestra pequeñita y siempre vas a contar con tu familia. No importa donde estés.” I love you too, Lupita. You’re our little one and you can always count on your family. No matter where you are.
“Ma, don’t call me Lupita,” I whine, through my tears. “My name’s Harper. H-A-R-P-E-R.” I spell out my name as I used to do as a kid just so my mom can say…
“Te guste o no tu siempre serás mi Lupita. L-U-P-I-T-A.” Like it or not, you’ll always be my Lupita.
There’s a brief silence before my mom speaks again. Her tone is serious yet gentle when she says, “Harper, if you’re not happy there, you can always come back here with us, mija. We’ll find another way to deal with the bank.”
“No.” I surprise myself by the determination in my voice. I got us all in this mess, and I was going to get us out. “This is a great opportunity. A blessing in disguise, just like you always tell me.” I will myself to believe the words coming out of my mouth. “It’s not that I’m unhappy, it’s just that I’m homesick. This will pass. I mean, we’re already halfway through the school year. And,” I smile at the thought of what I’m going to say next. “It’s almost unheard of for a woman my age to run a whole department. I need to keep telling myself I can do this. And I will.”
“You’ve always made us proud, mija.”
I give a loud sigh of relief. “I think that’s enough emotional meltdowns for one day.”
“Good, because I’ve got to get back to the shop. People have already started putting in orders for Christmas presents.”
My family runs a successful Mexican Artesano shop by the beach in San Diego. The location is real estate gold, and between importing and exporting and my mom’s expertise with a pottery wheel, everybody who lives in and has visited San Diego has heard of Mama Martínez’s.
Soon enough, my mom and I finish up our love fest, saying goodbye and trying to pencil time over the next few weeks to talk and FaceTime. If it was up to her, she would call me every day, but due to the time difference and my new schedule, I’ve told her I’ll call her as often as I can.
Even though I feel absolutely spent after speaking to my mother, I know there’s one phone call I really need to make.
Searching through my call list, I tap on Cruz’s contact. I don’t have to wait long till he answers, because he always does.
“Harps,” he answers. “You okay?”
“Can’t a sister call and see how her brother’s doing?”
“Let me see,” he muses. “When said sister has been trying to ghost her brother for the last few months, one can’t help but be a little suspicious.”
A wave of shame washes over me, my selfish actions inexcusable. “That’s why I called,” I tell him. “To apologize. I know you’ve been worried.”
“And I miss you,” he adds. It’s never been hard for Cruz to show his feelings. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, he’s the guy who never leaves anything left unsaid.
“I was just being a self-centered bitch,” I confess. “And I think I’m slowly getting over myself.”
“You don’t have to make light of it, Harps. I know leaving wasn’t easy.”
“Now isn’t that the understatement of the year,” I mutter.
“Seriously, are you okay, though?”
“I’d be better if you came to visit,” I answer honestly.
“Maybe me and the boys can come and crash your on-campus apartment. Find us some nice college girls to show us around.”
“That’s fucking disgusting.” Having four brothers means talking about women and their sex lives is unavoidable. Now that we’re older, they don’t bother hiding anything about the women they’ve been with. “Aren’t you old enough to be their dad?” I taunt.
“Hey,” he warns. “If you’re gonna call to insult me about my age, you can hang up.”
“You don’t need a girl half your age, Cruz.”
“What’s the big deal, it’s not like I’m going to marry the girl. You’re telling me you’ve never checked out one of your students?”
“Fuck no,” I cry out. “Do you want me to lose my job?”
“Come on. Unfortunately, I’ve had to witness how men of any age look at you when you walk through a room. You’re telling me none of those rich dicks are trying to get into your pants?”
I’m not stupid enough to think there’s no truth to what Cruz is saying. I’ve seen the way some students look at me. Especially one in particular. His ocean blue eyes follow me constantly. Some days he’s subtle and others I’m almost certain the only thing he’s memorizing in my class is the shape of my body.
“I remember one of my professors back in the day,” Cruz says. “If she was willing, I would’ve tapped that ass as many times as she’d have let me.”
I think of that one student and am glad that the rules in place are enough to keep everyone on their own side of the fence. I don’t have the time to be dealing with overeager seniors.
“Well, I’m glad to have heard about your gross teacher-student obsession, but are you going to come and see me or what?”
“Of course, Harps,” he says, his voice soothing. “Tell me what time works for you, and I’ll be there.”
3
Connor
Staring down at the fifty-five circled in red pen on the corner of my Spanish exam, my stomach lurches anxiously. Turning, I retrace my steps back to my desk, even though the class is over. I collapse onto the seat and slump down. Resting my elbows on the wood and bracing my forehead in my palms, my eyes don’t leave the failing grade. Maybe if I watch it long enough it will morph into a passing one?
Focus. I need to formulate a plan of action, because a fifty-five is a bit too average. Even for me. It’s a sure way to have my meddling father breathing down my neck. I need to get my shit together and improve my average by the end of the semester if I have any chance of getting through my last year of college without any drama.
When I started at King over three years ago, keeping a high GPA was my pa
rents’ one and only condition. I wouldn’t say the one I have now is high, but it’s enough that I’ve managed to stay off Connor and Trudie McAdam’s radar.
But now, failing is a possibility. And if I do, I’ll never hear the end of it, and some form of punishment will be doled out. When my parents want something, they get it, one way or another.
“Connor, are you okay?” Ms. Martínez’s voice breaks through my racing thoughts.
Slowly raising my head, I clear the panic from my face and calmly meet her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I didn’t mean for her to see me like this; concerned and weak. That’s not the way I want a confident and gorgeous woman to see me.
She moves from behind her desk and heads my way. Her hips sway with each step she takes, and my eyes follow the to and fro motion as if I’m being hypnotized. Maybe her curves can make me forget about the horrible grade and the shitstorm sure to come my way.
She takes a seat at the desk next to mine. “I can tell you’re upset with your grade. What happened?”
Turning my head, I meet her concerned dark gaze and shake my head before looking away. “I’m not sure. I studied as much as I always do.” Which is more than likely the problem.
“It’s not the end of the world. You still have enough time for your average to rebound,” she offers.
“Yeah,” I answer dispassionately. I know she means well, but she has no idea, nor does she care what it’s like being Connor McAdam Jr. The expectations placed on me and the consequences waiting when I don’t meet them aren’t her problem.
“Connor, it’s one grade.”
“It’s an exam, though, and carries a lot of weight toward my final average.” The more we discuss this, the more upset my stomach grows. It’s obvious I’m going to have to pull back on the partying and drinking to make sure this doesn’t happen again.
“Maybe you should join one of the study groups,” Ms. Martínez suggests.