Cherry Bomb (Brighton #1)

by Carmel Rhodes

  Her eyes light up and she nods enthusiastically. I zone out for the rest of their conversation, opting to watch Sue zip up and down the counter. My head throbs. Just when I thought the hangover gods had taken pity on me. The room spins and I lean forward, resting my head on the heel of my hand. By the time our food is up, my appetite is gone.

  “You aren’t eating,” Dad comments.

  “Not really hungry.” I groan.

  “You need to eat.”

  I roll my eyes in dramatic fashion and stab at the pancake on my plate. “Are you happy now?” I sound like a toddler, and judging by the way Cash’s jaw tightens, I’m pretty sure I’m on my way to earning myself another punishment fuck.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just…I was scared.” Dad’s voice cracks, and my walls melt. My dad was stronger than heartache. Stronger than addiction. Surely he’s stronger than cancer too, right?

  “How about we find a table?” Cash says to Arden. She nods. They grab their plates and leave us alone, but not before Cash sends a warning glare my way.

  Dad is the first to speak. “After yesterday, I know not telling you was a mistake, but what worries me even more is how you dealt with it.”

  “I don’t always party that hard,” I grumble more to my eggs than to him.

  “You’re too much like your old man, you know that, right? I can see so much of myself in you, and honestly, it scares me.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “If it isn’t a problem, then it shouldn’t be hard to stop.”

  “I can stop whenever I want.”

  “Okay, then it’s settled,” he says, picking up his mug. “I’m sure I can ask Cash to keep an eye on you. He seems like a good man. A good dad.” I nod, unsure of how to respond. Cash is one of the best men I know, but I’ not sure how much longer dad would think so if he knew just how close of an eye Cash keeps on me already. “One more thing.”

  “I’m not sure I can handle any more news from you,” I say, only half joking.

  Dad cracks the first real smile I’ve seen the whole trip. “Yeah, you’re definitely not gonna like this one.”

  I groan. “Out with it, old man.”

  “I made Sunnie promise to call you.”

  I blink at him. Then I blink some more because surely it’s the hangover causing this delusion. “I’m sorry, you did what now?”

  “I called her and told her the news. Last night while you were passed out. I figured keeping it a secret was doing more harm than good.”

  “Agreed, but how does that equal you telling her to contact me?”

  “Cherry, I get that you girls had a falling out, but this has taught me that life is too short to hold on to old grudges. She promised she’d reach out, and now I’m asking you to be open to listening.”

  “Dad.”

  “Pinky promise?” he says, his eyes hardening. He holds up his right hand, his pinky extended, and I relent.

  “Pinky promise,” I say, hooking my little finger around his, while hiding my other hand, the one with the fingers crossed, behind my back. Despite her optimistic name, Sunnie is a hurricane, one I’d be a fool to accept back into my life.

  Cash

  A WEEK LATER, I FIND myself strolling through the dining room of the steakhouse. It’s quiet, late afternoon on a weekday, too late for the lunch crowd, yet too early for the dinner rush. Logan and I had a meeting on this side of town, and he claimed to be craving a steak, but I’d be willing to wager that his cravings have more to do with the pretty blonde hostess than the filet.

  Cherry is sitting at the bar, typing furiously on her laptop. Her onyx hair is pulled over one side of her shoulder, displaying the cherry bomb tattooed behind her ear. I walk up behind her and press my lips to her ink. I can instantly feel her body soften as she glances at me from over her shoulder.

  “We kiss in public now?” she asks, pulling my head down to meet her mouth. “Kinky, I kinda like it.”

  “I’ll kiss you wherever the fuck I feel like it,” I grunt, biting her bottom lip.

  “Unless Arden’s around.” There’s a hint of resentment in her tone. It’s unexpected, the bite of bitterness rimming the edge of her words.

  Plopping down on the stool next to her, I ask, “I thought we were on the same page about my daughter finding out about us?” It’s been a week since the shit show that was Fairmont. Things have quieted down as the girls prepare for finals and we’d decided that we’d wait until the end of the semester to come clean.

  “We are on the same page.” Her gaze returns to her computer screen, but I know her mind isn’t on statistics. Her bottom lip wobbles, and she cracks the knuckles on her right hand.

  “Have you eaten today?” I ask.

  “Cash,” she groans.

  “What was the deal?” I don’t mean to use my newly minted dad voice on her, but if she wants to act like a child, I have no problem treating her like one.

  “No drinking, no drugs, and I need to eat,” she says in a god-awful British accent.

  I lean towards her, bending so that my mouth is directly against her ear, and growl, “Or else what?”

  “Or else you’ll punish me.”

  “I don’t want to do that,” I whisper, wrapping my hand around her neck and forcing her to stare at me. “I want to taste you. I want to lick you. I want to suck on your pretty little clit until you scream. You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?” She shakes her head, her eyes glazed over with lust. Leaning in further, I press my lips to hers. “Good girl.”

  “You two are fucking disgusting.” Logan fakes a gagging noise, plopping his ass on the stool next to us. “And where the fuck is Marco? And why is the fucking Garden full at this time of day?”

  Cherry shakes her head. “He’s not in yet, and there’s a bridal shower in there. Lots of women oohing and aahing over wedding stuff. Trust me, it’s safer in here.”

  Logan pouts some more, gesturing for the bartender’s attention.

  “What crawled up your ass, mate?” He was amiable enough when I left him ten minutes ago. His nanny called, I came in to claim a seat and to give him some privacy and got sidetracked by Cherry.

  The bartender comes over and Logan orders a whiskey neat. “Ms. Higgins gave her notice.”

  “Who’s Ms. Higgins?” Cherry asks from my other side.

  “My nanny.” He grinds out the words as if he’s chewing on glass shards.

  Cherry’s eyes widen in surprise. “You have kids? Someone actually let you impregnate them with your satanic sperm?”

  “Kid,” Logan clarifies. “Chelsea. She’s three and fuck you.”

  “How did I never know this?”

  “Because your job is to bring me beer and steak. You wouldn’t know it now if you weren’t fucking my best friend.”

  Cherry flips him off. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Thought-provoking incite. Finish your homework, the grown-ups are talking.”

  “Logan,” I warn. Cherry can handle herself but watching these two volley back and forth is tiring.

  “It’s fine.” Cherry grabs my knee and squeezes. “I’m used to him being an asshole. I might die of shock if he were anything else.”

  “So, what happened?” I ask. The bartender comes back with his whiskey. Logan downs it in one gulp and asks for another.

  “Something about a yoga retreat in Thailand.” Logan grunts. “She said there was a last-minute opening and one of her Instagram friends invited her along. She’s going to be gone for two fucking months.”

  “Oh, that’s not so bad.”

  “Not so bad?” Logan all but yells. “It took a month to find Ms. Higgins, she’ll be back before I can find a fucking replacement. Not to mention my summer travel schedule is insane. How the fuck am I supposed to find a babysitter before I leave for San Francisco?”

  “What about your parents?” I try. I honestly have no clue. I didn’t have the luxury of going through that phase with Arden.

  “They’re going
to Fiji for their anniversary trip. I can’t ask them to cancel.” Logan downs his second whiskey, and I nearly fall off my chair when Mr. Two Drink Maximum signals for another.

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly.” Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, and I can see the desperation dripping off him. Since his wife has been gone, it’s been him and Chelsea. He prides himself on making sure she feels loved, even though she has one less parent than most of her friends.

  “It’s okay to need help sometimes,” I say, clasping his shoulder. “You don’t have to do it all, every day. I can take on more responsibility at work, and I’m sure Jax won’t mind keeping an eye on her.”

  “Or!” Cherry’s head pops up and she grins.

  “No, you aren’t watching my daughter.” Logan shuts the idea down immediately, and I can’t say that I blame him.

  “Hell no, I can barely watch myself.” She shudders. “You’d come home to a pierced and tattooed little hell raiser who could say fuck more clearly than she could say Elsa and Anna but…” She hops up from her stool, darting to the front of the restaurant. A few moments later, she comes back with the shy hostess. “Emma’s studying early childhood development. She’s going to be a kindergarten teacher AND Marco has only been scheduling her two days a week. She needs money, and you need a last-minute sitter.”

  “No!” they both shout in unison. A look flashes between them. A look I know well on Logan. He’s into some kinky shit, well, technically we all are, but Logan with all his control issues and pent-up aggression more so than Jax and I. He stands to his full height, his voice drops an octave and I can see his right hand twitch, while Emma shrinks and stares at the floor.

  I punch him in the shoulder. “You son of a bitch. You’ve given me a hard time about Cherry, and all the while…”

  He lifts a hand to stop me. “It was one time.”

  Cherry gapes at Emma. The girl turns as red as a tomato before brushing off the question. “Look, I’m disgusted by this revelation, but you need a sitter.” Cherry points to Logan. “And you need money,” she says to her friend. “And I need brain bleach, but we are all adults, even though some of us are adultier than others.” She grins. “And I think you can keep it in your pants for two months, or don’t, I have no room to judge.”

  “I used to babysit,” Emma says, chancing a peek at Logan. “I could help out?”

  Logan’s jaw ticks and I can see the indecision in his eyes. He’s in a tight spot. He needs temporary help, but he’s attracted to Emma and his firm, I don’t shit where I eat policy, makes what should be an easy decision exceptionally more difficult. The only reason Ms. Higgins, a twentysomething wannabe yogi got the nanny job in the first place is because her girlfriend looks like a linebacker for the Rams.

  “You don’t really have much of an option, mate,” I remind him.

  “It’s only temporary,” Cherry adds.

  “Shit,” he grunts. I can see his wheels spinning, but honestly, it’s the best-case scenario. He only needs someone for two months. The girls will be out of school soon, and unless he wants to work from home for a month while he searches for a new nanny, he’s going to have to bend. Logan looks over at the hostess once more before relenting. “You can have a trial run. Come over tomorrow night. If Chelsea likes you, then you’ve got the job.”

  Emma nods nervously and makes her way back toward the hostess stand. “Honestly, you should start paying me. That’s two fires I put out for you,” Cherry says with a smug smirk.

  Logan grunts but refrains from commenting. A few minutes later, Emma comes back to the bar. “The party in the Garden is finishing up, if you guys would like to sit out there.”

  “Thank fuck.” Logan grabs his glass and pushes his way through the gang of women dressed in varying shades of pastel.

  “I’m going to go have lunch with that grumpy bastard. Finish your homework, then head to the beach house,” I tell Cherry, pressing my lips to her forehead.

  She frowns up at me. “What, I’m just supposed to wait around for you to come and fuck me?”

  I lean in and whisper against the shell of her ear. “If you’re lucky.”

  “Cocky asshole.”

  “That may be true, but I’d be willing to bet you want my cock in your asshole.” Her lips tip up into a seductive smirk, and I make a mental note to stop for lube on the way home.

  Cherry

  “OKAY, THAT’S IT FOR TODAY, guys. Don’t forget, your papers on A Brave New World are due next week,” my English professor, Mrs. Williams, shouts over the rustling of papers and screeching of chairs. “It will be the last grade before finals, so if you’re on the borderline, it would behoove you to do well.”

  I gather my stuff and heave my bag over my shoulder, making my way towards the exit.

  Since my little impromptu trip back home, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. Between working at the steakhouse, applying for scholarships, and the end of the semester rapidly approaching, I’ve barely had time to breathe.

  It’s nice though, the distraction from real life. A life where my dad is going through chemo, and my boyfriend is my roommate’s father. The more time I spend with Cash, the more attached I get. He’s kind and caring, and the dick is out of this world. He is everything I never knew I needed, yet I know I can’t keep him.

  My heart thunders in my chest as I make my way across the quad. Cash and I haven’t really talked much about what to do about Arden. I’ve tried bringing it up, but he says we’ll deal with it when the time comes. I think that’s code for I don’t want to lose either of you.

  It’s a nice sentiment, but in my life, nice sentiments rarely end happily.

  I sit down at one of the picnic tables and dig through my bag for my phone. Dad’s appointment should be over by now and I’m anxious to know how it went. He answers on the first ring. “Hey, baby girl,” his sleep-thick voice whispers on the other end.

  “Hey, Daddy, sorry, did I wake you?”

  “Oh no. I should be thanking you. I fell asleep on the couch. If I stayed here any longer, my back would start to protest.”

  “How was your appointment?” I ask, picking at the ends of my hair.

  “It was pretty straightforward, same as last time. They hooked me up to the machine. I sat there talking to the really nice lady next to me, then I came home and fell asleep on the couch.”

  “How do you feel?” Talking to my dad about his health is like trying to hack into the Pentagon—nearly impossible and frustrating as hell.

  “A little nausea, but mostly, I just want to sleep.”

  “And you go back tomorrow?”

  “Yes, every day this week. Then I get a few weeks to recover before the cycle starts again.”

  “I wish I could be there.” I hate that he’s there alone, and that it’s finals, and that my car is a piece of shit. Tick. Tick. Tick. My heart pounds against my chest. The blood rushes to my ears and it feels like I’m drowning. My excuses are trivial, and although he likes to downplay his illness, I know he’s scared.

  “Nonsense, baby girl. You need to finish the year strong. I promise, I’ll tell you if I need you. No more secrets.”

  “Pinky promise?” I’ve reverted to the little girl who used to sneak into his room at night because she was sure monsters lived in her closet. I’d make him go and check, then make him swear he’d gotten rid of them all.

  “Pinky promise.”

  He’s bone-tired; I can hear it in his voice and in the fact that he hasn’t brought up Sunnie. It’s been a week since I made the promise to talk to her. A week of me ignoring her text messages. I know I need to pull on my big-girl pants and talk to her, but there are literally more important things to worry about, like the bubbly blonde jogging towards my table. “Okay, Dad. Get some rest. I’ll call you in a while.” We end the call and I look up just as Arden skids to a halt at my table.

  “Cherry!” she says, dropping her bag on the wood with a thud. “There you are.”

  I smile a
t my friend. “Why are you so out of breath?”

  “Because I was looking for you and dodging Derek at the same time.”

  I roll my eyes. “You can just cancel the party. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “But then he wins,” she says.

  “I feel like he’s winning either way.”

  “Well, aren’t you insightful,” she says bitterly. “Anyway, listen, Socrates, I need a favor, so please tell me you’re off tonight.”

  “I’m off tonight.” I nod. “I have an English paper to finish.”

  “Thank God, because I need you home. So, if you could let your boyfriend know I have dibs tonight, that would be great.”

  I chuckle. “Of course, but can I ask why my presence is so important?”

  “I invited Cash over for dinner.”

  My mouth pops open, then it closes again. “You did what?”

  “Per your be nice to your sperm donor talk, I thought it would be a nice gesture especially after he hooked me up with Father Gregory, and I start volunteering at his parish after finals. Mom nearly jizzed herself when I told her. Community outreach and I’m doing the Lord’s work.” Arden rolls her eyes. “I swear, I think she’s planning to run for office or something.”

  “Your mom would actually make a kick-ass president.”

  “Don’t even joke like that. She already holds me to impossible standards. I couldn’t even imagine it being any worse.” She shudders. “Anyway, I’m making my specialty—”

  “Spaghetti is everyone’s specialty.”

  She tosses a pen at me. “Fuck off, he likes it.”

  “Can the future first daughter use the word fuck?” I tease.

  “Oh my God, shut up.”

  We leave campus separately so that she can go to the grocery store to get the stuff for dinner, which means I have a small window of time to freak out about my boyfriend coming to my house for the first time.