by Dia Cole
“I might not be a stripper, but I’ve got some killer moves if you want to see them.” She sloshed up and down on my bed. When I shook my head, she sighed. “Well, I had to try one last time, didn’t I?”
“Why?” I had to ask. “I mean, I’m not looking for compliments. I’m just trying to understand why you’d pick me over all the other guys out there that are dying to talk to you?”
“Let’s turn that around. Why do you chase after Lee instead of accepting the offer of a sexual goddess?” She gestured down at herself.
I opened my mouth to defend my love, but she held up her hand.
“Conventional psychology would say we both have deep-seated insecurities. Our low self-concept deludes us into chasing the unobtainable, because at our core we think we are unworthy of love.”
Well, fuck.
Aubry let out a gusty breath of air. “But I think the reason is even simpler. It’s easy to fall for what we can never have. It’s scary and hard to love what’s possible.”
“That’s some next level shit right there.” I rubbed my beard, thoughtfully. I’d never thought to question my feelings for Lee. Do I love her because I know she could never love me back?
“I have my moments.” Aubry smiled, and this time there was no coyness to it.
“You’re really easy to talk to. That ex of yours really lost out.”
Aubry flushed and smoothed out a wrinkle in her skirt. “Thanks for saying that.”
I chuckled. “I don’t usually go around telling my business to random people.”
She shared my laugh. “Well, I’m a psych major so there’s that.”
“Are you shitting me?”
When she shook her head, I laughed again. “Classic.”
She gave me a serious look. “Can I give you some advice though?”
“As long as I don’t have to pay for it, Dr. Aubry.”
“You should tell her how you feel.”
I rubbed my chest, feeling the thick ridges of my scars through the flannel. “Yeah. Someday.” But not today. Definitely not today.
Aubrey pressed her black lips together. “Someday isn’t guaranteed. Today might be all you have.”
I tried to lighten the mood. “Now you sound like a true therapist.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
Crap. “I’m guessing you speak from experience.”
She nodded. “I lost my mom back in April. Canine flu.”
It was my turn to say, “I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “Mom hated Damon. She didn’t like that he was kind of married.”
“Kind of married?”
She gave me a sheepish look. “I know. It sounds bad, but it’s a long story. Anyway, Mom and I had a bad fight about him. I knew we’d eventually make up. We always did. But I kept putting off calling her…” Her voice grew tight. “I never got the chance to tell her she was right, and that I loved her.”
“I’m sure she knew.”
Aubry sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Don’t be like me. Don’t wait for someday.”
“Okay. Can I give you some advice too?”
She tilted her head to the side, “Sure.”
“Give my friend Dexter a chance. He’s a good guy.”
She laughed. “Why not? You said he was in the kitchen?”
“Yup.”
The bed undulated beneath her as she pushed herself up. “Damn, this would be fun to screw on. Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”
I shook my head, apologetically.
“Your loss.” She sashayed over to the door and opened it. Before stepping out, she whirled around. “Just so you know, I would have totally rocked your world.”
“I know you would have.”
Flashing me another smile, she left.
For a fleeting moment, I wanted to run after her and drag her back into my room.
Aubry wasn’t turned off by my scars, and she seemed to get me in a way most people didn't. Furthermore, unlike Lee, she wanted to bone me.
And what did I do? I sent her right into the arms of my friend.
I’m such an idiot. Groaning, I strode to the door and rejoined the party I already wished was over.
8
Lee
“Is there a problem?” a familiar gravelly voice said behind me.
I spun around. The sight of Uncle Duncan grimacing at the sex shop owner had me releasing a tense breath. “I thought you’d left.”
My uncle gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I was just picking up some smokes. Is this guy botherin’ you?” His hand rested on the holstered revolver he always carried.
Cal’s gaze darted from me to Uncle Duncan. He shifted his grip on the shotgun as if nervous the silver-haired, mustached cowboy would start shooting.
“Cal was just making sure I made it to the street safely.” I turned to the bug-eyed sex shop owner. “Thanks for your help.”
Cal nodded. “I’ll check out the alley for you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I knew all he’d find there was some fake blood.
I so owe Jess for this.
“Better safe than sorry,” Cal said, marching into the alley.
Uncle Duncan shook his head. “Interestin’ friends you have.” He offered me his arm, and I let him escort me across the street. The familiar smell of stale cigarette smoke clinging to his fringed leather jacket calmed me with every breath I took.
As we walked to the liquor store, I noticed his limp was more pronounced than usual. I started to ask if his prosthetic was hurting. Thankfully, I caught myself in time. My uncle was sensitive about his lost limb.
When we were kids, he’d told Eden, Reed, and me he’d lost his left leg in a grizzly bear attack. After a while, his story changed to include a ferocious shark, and then later his leg became the casualty of a light saber battle. It wasn’t until I was older that I’d learned he’d lost it in the Vietnam War. Thankfully, an unknown soldier had shoved my uncle off a land mine before he’d lost more than a limb.
A car filled with rowdy college-age men nearly ran us over as it peeled into the liquor store parking lot.
Uncle Duncan and I gave them matching one-finger salutes. The all-too-familiar interaction relaxed me further.
It was just an average Thursday night. Sure, half the bars and clubs on Fourth Avenue were boarded up, casualties of the economic effects of the canine flu. But the sky was alive with helicopters flying to the nearby army base, and people were cheering inside the pool hall down the street.
When we reached the liquor store parking lot, Uncle Duncan moved ahead of me to open the passenger door of his rusted-out white truck.
Wanting to get home and forget about my hellish evening, I eagerly jumped in. The inside of the truck carried the lingering scent of wet dog. With a pang of sadness, I glanced into the backseat and saw Buddy’s plaid blanket still laid out for him. The old black lab had been Uncle Duncan’s trusty companion for years. It was heartbreaking that he’d had to be put down like all the other dogs.
My uncle walked around the front of the truck and eased into the driver’s seat.
I bit my lip, stifling the offer to drive. The last time I’d suggested it, the old man had chewed me out, insisting he’d been driving with his peg leg longer than I’d been alive.
As Uncle Duncan pulled out of the parking lot, he cast me a reprimanding look from under the brim of his hat. “I wish you’d quit strippin’. You’re too smart for that kinda thing.”
I stiffened, readying myself for the lecture that was sure to come. “We need the income.”
“I’ve done told you a thousand times, I’ll help you kids out.”
I shook my head, thinking of the paltry sum of VA disability money he received a month. It was barely enough to cover his lot at the trailer park. “Keep your money. We’ll get by.”
“Goddamn it. You Walker women are so stubborn. Your Gran was the same way and your mother…” His voice trailed off.
We never talked about my mother. Ever.
&
nbsp; I clutched my purse to my chest, wishing I could remember more about her. Time had eroded my memories of her face and the sound of her voice.
Uncle Duncan continued driving in pensive silence. Soon bars and clubs gave way to run-down apartment complexes and college housing. The next turn brought us to my neighborhood.
The sight of weed-filled yards and old cars up on cinder blocks was depressing. One day we’d earn enough money to move somewhere nicer. Until that day, I’d just have to grit my teeth and—
The sound of blaring music jolted me. My single-story rental was still two houses away, but there was no missing the throngs of people congregated in the front yard.
I took a deep breath. It’s Reed’s birthday, I reminded myself.
A cluster of people I didn’t recognize lounged on the worn saggy couch under the carport. They chatted and gulped liquid from red cups. My mood darkened further. There better not be a keg.
Uncle Duncan parked the truck in front of the house. “Looks like you’ve got some company.”
I gritted my teeth in frustration. “It’s Reed’s birthday.”
Although he may not live to see another one if the cops show up.
“Oh yeah.” Uncle Duncan reached under the center console and cursed. “Dammit, I forgot to bring Reed’s gift with me.”
Of course, he got Reed a gift, because that’s what you did for family on their birthdays.
I slunk down in my seat, feeling even more like a jerk for forgetting. “We’re going to celebrate tomorrow. Come to dinner with us and give him your gift then.”
My uncle shook his head. “I can’t. I’m driving up to the Rim to check on the cabin. Ricky’s gonna pick you up at the club and drive you home tomorrow.”
“Ricky? Are you two seeing each other again?” I smiled thinking of the foulmouthed, heavily bearded manager of Duncan’s trailer park.
My uncle flushed. Ignoring my question, he snapped his fingers. “Hey, why don’t you kids come up to the cabin with me? We can hike and fish. Like old times.”
Fond memories of summers spent visiting his run-down cabin flashed in my mind. “That sounds amazing.”
He gave me a jack-o’-lantern grin, revealing a handful of missing teeth. “Great, then I’ll swing by and pick y’all up tomorrow morning.”
All too quickly, I remembered my two shifts at the restaurant and my set at the club. I shook my head sadly. “I wish I could. I have to work.”
His smile faded. “Well, think about it. I’ll still come by around nine with Reed’s present. If you change your mind, we can all head out.”
“Sounds good.” I slid across the cab to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for the ride and coming to the club.”
“It’s the least I can do,” he said as I jumped out of the truck.
I gave him a quick wave and turned to march through the yard. There were at least a dozen crumpled red cups lying like grave markers in the dead grass. Refusing to give into my anger, I took a deep breath and navigated around them.
Reed will pick this up first thing tomorrow.
I pushed past the people loitering on the front step. A few familiar faces called out, “Hey, Lee.” Not in the mood for small talk, I ignored them and stepped through the open door.
The smell of weed and the sound of loud music assaulted my senses. I clamped my hands over my ears and tried to peer past the wall-to-wall people. The living room had been overtaken by music equipment and Reed’s band.
Ronnie, shirtless and wearing too-tight skinny jeans, crooned unintelligible lyrics into a microphone, while Sam flexed his enormous biceps banging away on his drum set. Morgan’s black hair obscured his pockmarked face as he strummed his guitar and Reed… Reed stood by the speakers smoking a clove in jeans and a blue flannel shirt.
Why isn’t Reed playing?
With one last wail, Ronnie finished the god-awful song. The crowd must’ve been drunk because they hooted and howled their appreciation. Always theatrical, Ronnie bowed several times. “Thank you. Thank you. That song was dedicated to our former bandmate who is celebrating his twentieth birthday tonight. Reed, we’re gonna miss you, man.”
Former bandmate?
I blinked in confusion. The band was everything to Reed. Just last week he’d been trying to convince me they were close to signing with a record label. I’d laughed and told him to wake up and smell reality. His band had as much chance of making it big as I had in making it to the Peace Corps now. Some dreams had to die bitter deaths. But I didn’t intend on Reed doing something as drastic as quitting.
A heavy wave of guilt blindsided me.
As if sensing me, Reed looked up. All at once I was snared by his electric-blue eyes. They contrasted so vividly against his darkly tanned skin they gave him an almost otherworldly appearance. The combo of those eyes with his high cheekbones and long sandy-blond hair made him panty-dropping gorgeous.
That fact wasn't lost on the female partygoers standing around him. I kind of wanted to slap the flirtatious looks off their faces.
Seeming oblivious to their interest, Reed straightened to his lanky six-foot height and pushed away from the huge speaker he’d been leaning against.
Motioning him toward the kitchen, I maneuvered between the wall-to-wall crowd.
Some tall, muscular guy crashed into me, spilling his drink.
Goddamn it. I stared at the beer dripping down the front of my sweater, daring the night to get any worse.
“What a waste of good beer,” the guy mumbled.
I gave him a scathing look. Based on his Southern Arizona University sweatshirt and short blond crew cut, he didn’t run with Reed’s crowd.
Getting his first look at me, the guy’s hazel eyes widened, and a dazed look crossed his face. “Um, I’m… I’m so sorry for spilling my drink.” He tried to mop up the wet spot on my chest.
“Get your hands off me.” I pushed him away.
“Sorry. Uh. Let me make it up to you. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
Seemingly oblivious to my annoyance, he stuck his hand out. “Name’s Noah, but everyone calls me Scooter.”
“Great. You can scooter out of my way.”
He laughed too loud at my lame joke and dropped his hand. “A beautiful woman with a sense of humor. That’s a rare thing. Do you live around here?”
I craned my neck to look around his bulging bicep. “You could say that.”
“Do you go to SAU?”
Reed appeared next to me and said, “She’s out of your league, man.” Then tugged me into the kitchen.
“That was a little cold-blooded.” Reed was usually nice to a fault. He’d even offered a glass of water to the guy who repossessed our car last month.
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
I snorted. “Better not come to the club then.” The men there made the drunk college boy look like a gentleman.
Reed’s eyes darkened. “I hate that you have to work there.”
I opened my mouth to remind him we needed the money but was distracted by the state of the kitchen. The avocado-colored laminate counters were covered in red cups, wadded up chip bags, and bongs. Spying the keg sitting over by the fridge, my skin grew hot and tight. “Reed—”
“Before you say anything, I promise everyone will be out of here by two. Ronnie’s going to take the keg with him, and I’ll clean the entire house.”
A couple of the guys playing beer pong on Gran’s old oak dining table waved at Reed. “Awesome party, man. When is the stripper getting here? Ronnie said there would be a stripper.”
I stared hard at the peeling white cabinets, pressing my lips together. I couldn’t handle this right now. Every part of my life was in crisis. Neither job I had was paying enough to cover our bills. My boss was pimping me out to a drug lord who’d probably end up killing me. My sister was in jail. My house was a disaster and filled to the brim with drunk assholes.
“I have something for you.” Ree
d reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a wad of twenty-dollar bills.
I looked at the cash he pressed into my hand in confusion. “Where did you get this?”
“I sold the bass.”
“But you loved that bass.” Reed’s mom had given it to him for his fourteenth birthday. Just days before the car accident that had taken her life and nearly taken Reed’s.
“I need to help you out with the rent, and the time I’ve been practicing with the band could be better spent looking for a job. I’ve got more interviews lined up next week. One of those will work out. I know it.”
This was too much. Yes, we needed the money. But not at the cost of his dreams. I pushed the bills back at him. “Reed Jarin Marshall, you buy that bass back.”
“The big sister act doesn’t work with me.” He smiled and touched my cheek. His gaze shimmered with an emotion that startled me.
He wasn’t blood, but after the accident when Gran took him in, I’d treated him like family. I’d even temporarily made him my ward when Gran died to keep him out of the system. That had only reinforced our familial relationship in my mind. But the way he was looking at me was far from brotherly. My skin tingled under the warmth of his fingers.
Needing some distance, I took a step back. Shoving the cash in my purse, I said, “Fine, I’ll keep this for now, but as soon as we have enough money, I’m buying you an even better bass.”
“Okay,” he said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Here, have a drink.” He snagged a red cup off the table, filled it with beer, and handed it to me.
Why the hell not?
I took a sip and choked on the bitter, malty taste. The next sip wasn’t too bad. I lifted the cup and tilted it toward Reed. “Happy birthday, bro.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’m not your brother.”
“But you’re family. You, Uncle Duncan, and Eden.”
“True that.”
The cheers of the assholes sitting around the table broke the sudden awkwardness between us.
“I’m going to change.” I motioned down to the wet stains on my sweater. Without waiting for him to respond, I set the cup of beer down on the counter and headed to my room. I didn’t expect to find two half-dressed strangers rolling around on my bed.