Take Me To Bed: Bedtime Quickies

by Alex Grayson

  "Is there a problem with that?"

  "Nope," I say, popping my p. "I better go and collect Parker from your table."

  "She's fine," he tells me. "Are you always this friendly?"

  "Yes," I respond.

  "You don't really have a kid that goes to this school, do you?" he presses.

  I press my finger to my lips. "I just—I don't think I owe you any more answers."

  "I'm sure Brett will have all the answers I need," he says. "I'll just give him a call."

  Brody turns away and heads back to the line of linen-covered tables. "Uh, wait, don't call him. He's in an important meeting. That's why I'm here."

  Brody continues walking, looking through his phone as if searching for Brett's number. "The things I have to do around here," he mutters.

  "Seriously, why are you acting like a jerk?" I ask him.

  He twists his head to look over his shoulder. "You're the one who lost my niece, remember?"

  "I didn't lose her. She walked away."

  "She walks away a lot did you know that?" he quizzes me.

  "No, I did not know that, but it might have been some helpful information that Brett could have given me as a warning."

  "Probably," Brody says, continuing his pace down the line of tables. He stops abruptly in front of one of the tables, where I find Parker and her' family member,' Hannah sitting. AKA, her cousin.

  "Parker, why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" I ask her quietly.

  "I did," she says, keeping her eyes locked on the napkins she's straightening.

  "Well, I didn't hear you," I respond.

  "Sorry, I thought you did."

  "Dude, call me back when you're free," I hear Brody say into his phone.

  I tug at Brody's arm. "You're seriously going to rat me out? Do you not have anything better to do?"

  "My dad likes to be in charge at all times," Hannah says, smirking at me.

  "Clearly," I tell her.

  "He's the boss of the PTA and the boss tonight, so—" Hannah raises her brows and glances away from me. "Better watch yourself."

  Wow. Just wow. I offer to help, and this is what I get in return. "Honey, can you go get me a drink from the vending machine," Brody asks his daughter.

  "Don't call me honey in public," she snaps at him.

  "Sugarplum, your dad would really love a bottle of water. Here is some money, could you be a dear, and go grab a bottle?"

  "Sugarplum?" Hannah growls. "Dad, you're humiliating me!"

  "Brody leans over the table and kisses Hannah on the cheek. "Love you, cupcake."

  "Oh my God, stop!" she yells, standing in front of the table. Hannah snatches the money out of Brody's hand and storms off.

  "Oh, Hannah," he hollers after her. I'm sure she only turns around since he referred to her by name this time. "Don't forget—" Brody points at her, then places his hands on his heart and points his thumbs toward himself. "You complete me, baby girl."

  Hannah's mouth falls ajar. Her cheeks turn bright red, and she stomps off. "Tweens, I tell ya. It's no joke. You have to play the game, or they walk all over you," Brody tells me.

  "You just embarrassed her. How is that playing the game?"

  "She wouldn't have gotten me a bottle of water, and I can't leave the area right now." I'm not sure I have much of a response considering I kind of recall acting similarly at that age.

  I clear my throat. "Well, good for you," I tell him. "Parker, we should get back to our table and start cleaning up."

  Parker stands up and shrugs her shoulders. "Okay."

  "Hey, Park," Brody addresses her. "Does Miss Journey here have a daughter in this school?"

  Parker gives me an off-putting look. "You have a daughter?" she asks. "Why didn't she come with us tonight?"

  I take Parker's hand and gently guide her away from the table, hoping Brody doesn't follow. "Is your uncle always such a pain in the butt?"

  "Mmm, pretty much," Parker says with a giggle.

  For the next thirty minutes that I'm required to be here, I find myself rather safe from being approached by Brody as a line of moms finds a reason to chat him up off in the corner. I'm thankfully able to get Parker and me out of the school without another encounter with the grizzly bear.

  5

  The parking lot is lit up well, and parents are shuttling their kids into cars. We parked farther away, so we're still walking by the time some cars start to pull out of the lot. "Why did we park back here?" Parker asks.

  "I don't usually like to park too close to other cars," I tell her.

  "Why?" she continues.

  The truth—there are so many reasons. Dings on doors, awkward conversations, and so on. "I don't really know," I tell her.

  "My uncle Brody does the same thing. It's because he's in love with his truck and doesn't want anyone to park too close."

  "Is that his truck down by my Jeep?" I ask her, getting ready to rush Parker's little legs to move faster so I can avoid another encounter with that beast.

  "Yup, it is," she says, twisting her head to look over her shoulder. "See, he's right behind us."

  I'm not going to turn around and purposely make eye contact. That will lead to further questioning.

  "So, if you're a mom of another kid in this school, why are you taking Parker somewhere and not your so-called daughter?" There it is: the question that will force me to stop and explain why it looks like I'm kidnapping his niece.

  "My daughter went home with a friend, and I offered to bring Parker home," I shout back without turning around.

  "You don't really have a daughter," Parker mutters through her pressed lips.

  "Shh," I hush her.

  "But, why did you lie?" she presses.

  Her question stirs in my head for a minute, and I honestly can't remember the reason the lie shot out of my mouth, but I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that I didn't want him to figure out who I was. I'm guessing I'm out of luck there, though.

  "Okay, stop," Brody says, more abruptly this time. "Brett didn't tell me anyone else was bringing her home. I need to know who you really are before my niece gets into your car."

  Parker looks up at me as if she's telling me to do the right thing. I suppose I can understand his concern, a little. I stop walking and turn around, crossing my arms over my chest in defense mode. "I told you who I am. I'm Journey Milan."

  "How do you know my brother, Brett?" he asks.

  I stare at him for a long minute, wondering if he truly believes that I'm not the Journey he used to know … because he definitely knew me. My hair was, in fact, red back in the day, and now it's dark. Plus, I'm no longer wearing glasses, nor am I fifteen.

  "I thought your last name was Quinn?" Parker asks me.

  I've been outed … by a seven-year-old.

  "It was," I tell her. "It's a long story."

  "Oh," Parker says, scratching at the side of her face with confusion.

  "Journey Quinn," Brody says. "Now, I know that name well. But hey, no judgment on the new last name and no wedding band. I'm not one to talk."

  "Speaking of which, where is your daughter?" I try to change the subject.

  "Oh, I knew I forgot something," he says, spinning around dramatically. "She was in the truck about two minutes before you turned around. You're very perceptive, I see. Maybe I should bring Parker home."

  "Brody Pearson. Boy, do I remember you," I tell him, trying my best to change this little mind game around. "Always in trouble. Never at family events for reasons no one truly knows, but I know."

  "What are you talking about?" he presses.

  Our families grew up together. Our dads have been doing business since before we were born. We would see each other a few times throughout the year, but since Brody is a few years older, he was often missing from social events because he had a "game" or "practice" to attend. However, I know the truth. Brett made mention of his behavior issues when we were younger. Brody was a troublemaker, and his parents were often afraid
to bring him to social events. "Never mind," I tell him, wanting to end this rendezvous.

  "Is this because I wasn't at your dad's funeral?"

  My eyes widen at his forward question. "Wow, way to be blunt there."

  Brody holds his hands up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just said that. I—I couldn't be at the funeral because I had to drive Hannah to Connecticut, so her wonderful mother could take her for the long weekend."

  "I didn't expect to see you at my father's funeral, so you're free not to worry," I tell him, getting irritated that we must discuss this matter at all.

  "In all seriousness," he says, walking closer. "I'm so sorry to hear about your dad. I know you were all very close."

  I sweep my hair behind my ear and do my best to look everywhere, but at Brody, who has a sincere look in his eyes. "Thanks," I tell him.

  I unlock my Jeep by the key fob I'm clenching in my hand. "I didn't mean to be so crass," he continues, taking another step toward me.

  "Parker, why don't you get into the Jeep. I'll be right there," I tell her.

  She runs up to Brody and gives him a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow. Love you," she tells him.

  "Later, Park. Love you too, sweetie."

  I hate that their short interaction made my heart swell—just a little. Even grizzly bears can be nice for a minute, I suppose.

  Parker climbs into the, and I remain standing still with my arms crossed over my chest. "My sister and your brother are dating or whatever," I tell him.

  "Who would have thought that would actually happen," he says, chuckling. "The two nerds never had the guts to say boo to each other. Now their head over heels in wonderland, finally."

  "I think they're good together," I tell him, narrowing my eyes. Maybe he's jealous of them.

  "I figured if anyone in our family were going to hook up, it would have been us after that one time," he says, jiggling his brows.

  I huff out a lungful of exhaustion. "Please. We were like stupid teenagers," I tell him. "I hardly remember any of that."

  "Seven minutes in heaven that last for ten," he reminds me. "I don't know. I kind of recollect some of those minutes."

  I drop my hands by my side, wishing he didn't bring any of this up. No one knows what happened that night, and I'll be damned if anyone finds out. "Anyway, it was wonderful running into you," I tell him, the sarcasm spilling out with each word.

  "It was nice to see you again, Journey … Milan. You know, it's weird, my parents talk about your family so much and yet, never mentioned that you had gotten married at any one point."

  I smirk. "It was a bad trip to Vegas on my twenty-first birthday. We'll leave it at that. Sound good?"

  "Wow, that's quite a story," he says.

  "Isn't it?" I rebut.

  "Was the guy still around in the morning, or are you like still married to a stranger?"

  "Think whatever you want to think, Brody."

  "I can do that," he says, smirking.

  I roll my eyes and toss my head back. "Can we avoid bringing any of this up if or when we see each other at a family event?" I'm not sure we'll run into each other again, but seeing how close Melody and Brett are getting, I can only imagine what's coming down the road for our two families.

  "I'm surprised I haven't run into you since Brett has been working at your dad's shop and all."

  The guilt. It's always there, and this is just a reminder. "I've had a hard time going into the shop," I tell him. I am giving him way more information than he deserves to hear from me.

  "I can't imagine," he says, sounding sympathetic.

  "Anyway, our encounter didn't happen," I tell him.

  "So, my brother knows I'm here tonight, and he knows you were here tonight. I'm not sure we can pretend like we didn't see each other at a small school event. Why does it matter, anyway?"

  I guess it doesn't matter. "I suppose," I tell him.

  "It's nice to see you again," he says, his words are gentler than he's been sounding most of the night.

  "Yeah, likewise," I tell him, wondering what the hell I'm saying.

  Brody walks up to me and opens his arms for a hug. I can't help but look around in search of watchful eyes. It's just a hug, but why does he feel the need to hug me?

  I don't stop the embrace, but I don't participate either. He holds me tightly. "I'm honestly sorry for what you're going through. I didn't mean to be a jerk to you in the school. I'm protective of Parker."

  "I understand," I tell him.

  "Maybe I'll see you around sometime," he continues.

  I shrug rather than respond. "If you lose the beard, maybe." It was a joke, but in all seriousness, that thing is scratching the hell out of my neck as he continues to hug me for this awkwardly long minute.

  "My beard?" he says, pulling away as if I made a derogatory comment. He runs his fingers down the side of his facial hair and my lip perks into a snarl. It's gross. I hate thick beards.

  "It's not the best look," I tell him.

  "On the contrary, it is the best look," he argues.

  "Okay," I respond, ending the argument.

  "The single mom's club at the school has no complaints about it," he says with a wink.

  "Well, evidently, there is plenty for you to choose from."

  "This is going to sound like an asshole comment, but I can hardly handle my daughter, never mind getting involved with someone who has an additional kid. You know?"

  As a matter of fact, I do know. "That makes sense. You have a tough time with Hannah?" I ask, not that it's any of my business.

  Brody runs his hand up the back of his head. "Goddamn, that girl has it out for me. I don't know if it's this tween thing or what, but her attitude—I sometimes think she might suffocate me in my sleep."

  His statement earns a short laugh from me. "I like her style. Never underestimate a tough girl."

  Brody shakes his head. "Yeah, I guess."

  "Why are you doing all his PTA stuff if it's so hard to be a dad?" I question.

  "To torture her back. She wants to give me hell every minute she's awake, so I'll be as involved in her life as I can. It's payback until she wants to be nice to me again. I miss my sweet little girl."

  "I think that's a fair game," I tell him.

  "I'm probably screwing it all up, but whatever. Her mother is a head case, so it's up to me to keep her on the straight and narrow."

  I look back at my Jeep, making sure Parker isn't trying to get my attention. "I should probably warm up the car," I tell him.

  "Yeah, same," he says.

  "Well, if I see you, I'll pretend like you don't exist," he says.

  "That would be for the best," I agree.

  Brody steps away to walk toward his truck. "Just out of curiosity, why would that be for the best?"

  I don't have a logical answer to this dumb question. A dark thought rolls through my mind, though, and I make my way over to where he's standing. We are away from the overhead lamp and in the blind-spot of our two vehicles. "Because I'm good at making things very uncomfortable," I tell him.

  Brody tilts his head to the side with a look of question. "I'm not following," he says. "I don't get uncomfortable easily." He doesn't seem too sure of himself when he says this.

  I look around once more to make sure no one is watching. I place my hand on his burly chest and clench his shirt into my fist. "I've learned a lot since our seven-minute closet game way back when Brody. I press up on my toes and bring my lips a half-inch from his. "The game of making a man uncomfortable is one I enjoy winning." I brush my lips against his and drag the tip of my tongue along his bottom lip.

  Brody's hand loops around my back and pulls me in against him. "Don't assume you'll win a game with an opponent who has perfected his skills over the years," he mutters near my mouth. "Got it?"

  "I'm not assuming anything. I'm aware of my capabilities."

  "Is this a challenge?" he asks.

  "Shave your beard, and I'll consider it," I tell him.


  "Not a chance," he responds.

  "That's too bad," I tell him.

  "You haven't changed a bit," he says.

  I raise my brow. "Neither have you."

  He pulls me in against him a little harder and kisses me with a sense of desire. "This isn't over," he says against my lips.

  "Prove it," I tell him.

  Brody's hand slips down against my back pants pocket, where he snags my phone. "Lucky for me, you don't lock your phone," he says. Brody turns around, so it's not within my reach.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Making it so I can send you texts and photos," he says.

  "Photos …"

  He turns to look at me over his shoulder. "Photos," he says again. "We have technology in our favor this time around."

  I hear his phone buzz from wherever it is on his body. "I have your number, and you have mine. Don't be a stranger, Journey."

  Brody's side door whips open, and we jump apart from each other as he hands me my phone back. "Dad, what are you doing? Can we please go home?" Hannah shouts at him.

  "Close the door. I'll be there in a second," he snaps back.

  Hannah slams the door.

  "Goodnight, Brody," I tell him.

  "Tell me you haven't thought about me over the years," he says.

  I stare at him for a long second. "I can't tell you that," I respond.

  "I might call you," he says.

  "I might not answer," I reply, grinning.

  "Then, you might wonder what you're missing out on."

  "You know we would still be a bad idea," I remind him. He was always in trouble, and I was not much better.

  "And if I shave?" he questions.

  I bite down on my bottom lip and shrug. I hate the sparks running through my body. I hate that he's making me feel alive when I have felt dead for so long. Worst of all, I hate that I want him to text me. I tried to forget him. I tried to forget he existed, but now our families are being pulled together, and I don't see how we can avoid each other for much longer. "Maybe I'll want to play with you again."

  "Maybe we can have our own bake sale," he says, lifting his brows. "You can bring cookies, and I'll bring the milk."

  "Until then, keep it in your pants, Brody Pearson," I respond.