by Lauren Rowe
“When I get there,” Josh says softly, his voice low and masculine, “you can cry on my shoulder all you like, Party Girl.”
There’s a long pause. I’m having a physical reaction to that statement, not to mention the masculine tone of his voice.
“Thanks,” I finally say. “I’d like that.”
There’s another long pause. “So how’s that bodyguard working out for you?” he finally asks. “Do you like him?”
“Do I like him?” I repeat, my pulse suddenly pounding in my ears. Does he suspect I was trying to get into my bodyguard’s pants when he called earlier today?
Josh exhales. “I mean does he make you feel safe? Is he doing a good job of protecting you?”
“Oh.” I exhale. “Well, actually,” I say, “I’ve got two bodyguards—one for day, one for night. The nighttime guy is here at the hospital now—in the waiting room. I feel pretty safe with him. But I’m gonna ask for a replacement for the daytime guy.”
“You don’t feel safe with the daytime guy?”
“No.”
“Why not?” There’s a strange edge to his voice. He inhales sharply. “Did he make a pass at you, Kat?”
Holy Jealous Boyfriend, Batman—except, of course, that Josh Faraday isn’t my boyfriend. We’ve never even been on a flippin’ date.
“Shit,” Josh breathes before I can reply to his initial question. “What’s the bastard’s name?”
“Josh,” I manage to say. “No, he didn’t make a pass at me.” I think that’s technically true—I’m the one who made a pass at Derek. “But if he had,” I continue, “it wouldn’t be any of your business.” I let that sink in for a minute. “Derek just didn’t take things seriously enough for my taste, that’s all,” I say evenly.
“Derek, huh?” Josh says, his voice edged with testosterone.
“What the hell, Josh?” I say. “You sound like a caveman. Don’t worry about it. I’m asking for a new guy. Problem solved.” I’m suddenly pissed. He has no claim on me. I can do what I want. “I’d better get back into the room,” I say stiffly. “I came out into the hallway to take your call.”
He exhales. “Listen, Kat. I don’t want you being alone ’til we figure this shit out. Not for a minute. Okay? Jonas obviously had a sixth sense here—he was totally right. We’ve got to take this seriously.”
“Yeah. Okay. Got it. Thanks. But like I said, Rodney’s out in the waiting room, and I’ll get a new guy tomorrow.”
“You promise?”
I exhale with exasperation. I’m not sure I like this caveman crap from a guy I’m not even dating. “I’m getting a new guy because it’s what I wanna do, not because you told me to do it.”
“Jeez. Touchy. I’m just looking out for you.”
Tears flood my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m a wreck right now. Ignore me. I didn’t mean to be bitchy. It’s been a really hard day, Josh.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I know,” he coos. “Of course, it has.”
I sniffle into the phone. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries.”
We’re silent for a long moment.
“Okay, well, I gotta go,” I say. “I came into the hallway to take your call. If Sarah wakes up, I wanna be there.”
Josh exhales. “Kat, listen . . .” But he doesn’t finish the thought. “Yeah, I gotta go, too. Don’t forget to tell my brother I’m stuck down in LA, but I’ll get there as soon as I can. Please tell him, okay? I’m really worried about him.” His voice breaks. “He’s been through a lot, Kat—something like this was the last thing he needed.”
“It’s okay, Josh,” I say softly. “Hang in there, okay?”
I hear him breathing, but he doesn’t reply.
“I’m sure this is rough on you—being down there when your brother’s wigging out up here.”
He doesn’t reply for a long beat. “Kat, you have no idea.”
“Hang in there.”
There’s another long beat.
Josh clears his throat. “It sounds like Sarah’s gonna be good as new, so crisis averted. Jonas will take her to his house tomorrow and nurse her back to health and he’ll be happy as a clam. I’m sure the minute I walk through his door tomorrow, he’ll kick me the fuck out again, just like he did last night.”
I chuckle. “He kicked you out last night?”
“Yeah. I guess he wanted some privacy, if you know what I mean.”
I can hear him rolling his eyes across the phone line.
“Well, from what I heard before you got to Jonas’ house the other day, consider yourself lucky you didn’t hear them. Yeesh.”
“Really?”
“Oh my God. They sounded like they were dying in there.”
He laughs. “Don’t tell me any more. I make it a point not to think about my brother having sex.”
I laugh, wiping the tears out of my eyes as I do.
“I’ve never seen Jonas like this about a girl. Ever,” he says. “I actually think this might be the real thing for him.”
“Really? Wow. Sarah said the same thing.”
“Awesome. I’d hate for Jonas to get his heart broken. He doesn’t put it out there very often. Looks like he’s fallen hard for this girl.”
I never thought for a minute about Jonas getting his heart broken—I’ve been too concerned about Sarah getting hers smashed to smithereens.
“Trust me, if anyone’s heart’s gonna get broken here, it won’t be Jonas’,” I say. “Sarah’s all in.”
“Well, good. I hope it works out for them. They’re awesome together.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“Okay, well . . .” he says. “Hopefully, I’ll get my ass back up there tomorrow on the first flight out, just in time for him to kick me out of his house again.” He chuckles. “So when I’m up there with nothing to do, maybe we’ll have a chance to hang out—maybe grab some dinner or drinks?”
“Maybe,” I say casually, but my heart’s racing. I’m sure he can hear me smiling over the phone line.
“Mmm hmm,” he says. “Okay, Party Girl with a Hyphen. I forgot we’re playing it cool. That’s fine. We both know how this ends—but, sure, we can play it that way.”
“I have no idea how this ends,” I say, my crotch tingling at the flirtatious tone of his voice.
“Oh, well, then, far be it for me to spoil the ending for you.” He pauses. “Well, I better go. Hang in there, Party Girl. I’ll be there soon and you can cry on my shoulder all you like.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you soon, Playboy.”
“Oh, you can count on it.”
Five
Josh
“Dude, pull your head out of your ass. Please,” I say. “She’s not gonna stay at her mom’s house forever.”
“I’m going fucking crazy,” Jonas mutters, gripping his steering wheel like a madman. “I’m about to fucking blow.”
I exhale and look out the passenger window of the car, trying to collect myself. My brother is a fucking lunatic. There’s no way around it. I truly thought dragging Jonas rock climbing all day would take his mind off Sarah—and, specifically, the fact that she’s decided to stay at her mom’s house to recuperate instead of Jonas’ (and also hasn’t been very communicative while she’s been there, either)—but I was wrong. Dead wrong. Not only did Jonas continue obsessing about Sarah throughout our climb today, he did it while I was trapped on a fucking mountain with him with nowhere to go. Jesus Christ. If I’d known Jonas was gonna drive me nuts during our entire climb, I would have just sat on his couch, watching basketball and drinking way too much beer. At least then I could have left the room occasionally to bang my head against the wall. Or, at the very least, numbed myself with way too much alcohol.
All I wanna do right now is call Sarah and say, “Whatever’s going on between you and Jonas, please just give the guy a fucking call and tell him whatever the fuck’s on your mind, good or bad, because until my high-strung brother hears from you and confirms whatever it is you’re thinking, h
e’s gonna be a fucking nightmare to be around.” But, obviously, I’m not gonna do that. The girl was stabbed. She’s probably scared and freaked out and maybe a little bit confused right now. She’s got plenty on her plate worrying about her own mental health without having to worry about Jonas’ too. I’ve got to just let this thing take its natural course—and pray to God it goes Jonas’ way. Because after everything Jonas has had to endure in his life, I really don’t want his dream girl to shatter his heart, too.
“Jonas, I know it’s hard for you,” I say, “but you’ve just gotta let the girl sort her shit out. She’s been through a huge trauma. She probably just needs a little break. Be patient with her.”
“I don’t do patient.”
“No shit.” I roll my eyes. “But it’s only natural she’d want her mom after what she’s been through. I’m sure most people with a mother would react the same way.”
Jonas literally snarls at me.
I roll my eyes at him again. “Oh my fucking God. Jonas, I’m as motherless as you are. Obviously. I didn’t say that to twist some knife into your heart. I’m just saying we don’t know what it’s like to turn to a mother in a time of crisis—but other people do. Normal people.”
“But why isn’t she even talking to me?” Jonas says. “I understand her wanting her mom. But something’s off. I can feel it. And it’s fucking killing me.”
“Just give her a little space,” I mumble, but my tone isn’t compassionate. I’ve been with Jonas all fucking day. I’m all out of compassion. “Sarah wanting to be with her mother is no reflection on how she feels about you. Stop thinking everything’s about you all the time. You make me want to open my car door and hurl myself onto the freeway just to get away from you.”
Jonas grits his teeth as he glares out the windshield of his car. “Maybe I should drive over there?” he finally says. “Tell her how I feel?”
“No, Jonas.”
He grips the steering wheel again. “Or send flowers with a note?”
“Flowers? Jesus, Jonas. No. Just leave her alone.”
“Maybe I should, I don’t know, go park my car across the street from her mom’s house and sit there for a while?”
I laugh. “What the fuck? You mean like a stalker?”
“No, not like a stalker. Like a boyfriend.”
“Like a... Ha!” I can’t control my laughter. “That’s your idea of what a boyfriend does? You’re gonna go be John Cusack in Say Anything with the beat box over your head, standing in the rain?”
“John Cusack didn’t stand in the rain.”
“Sure he did.”
“No.”
“Well, either way,” I say. “That’d be totally stalker-ish. It was stalker-ish when John Cusack did it in the first place. I don’t know why everyone thinks that was so fucking romantic. It was just weird. Fucking desperate. Women hate desperate.”
Someone cuts Jonas off and he honks his horn. “Motherfucker.” There’s a long pause. “Well, I can relate,” he says.
“To what?”
“To John Cusack.” He exhales. “I’m desperate.”
I shake my head. What the fuck am I gonna do about my fucking brother? He doesn’t say a word about any particular woman since Amanda, not a fucking word, and now he won’t shut the fuck up about this one? I can’t decide whether I like hermit-Jonas or desperately-in-love Jonas better. “You sent a couple bodyguards over to her mom’s house, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then. She’s safe. That’s all that matters. Leave her alone.”
Jonas sighs audibly. “But if I drive over there, she might at least notice me sitting out there. And then she’d know I’m thinking about her.”
I can’t help but chuckle. I’ve never in my life met someone like my brother. Probably a genius IQ, no exaggeration. He’s easily twice as smart as I am. Triple as smart. And yet he’s so fucking stupid he makes me want to wring his neck at least a hundred times a day. “What would be the point of you sitting there in your car, watching the house, Jonas? Explain this to me.”
Now it’s Jonas rolling his eyes at me like I’m a complete moron. “Because then maybe she’d come out.”
I laugh. “And then what?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t answer me.
“Dude, Sarah’s healing from being stabbed multiple times and having her head busted wide open like a walnut. And you want the poor girl to hobble outside in her little nightgown and fuzzy socks and pat you on the head and say ‘Good, doggie’?”
“I didn’t... No. I just . . .” His anguish is palpable.
“You know what she’d really say? She’d say, ‘Gosh, Jonas. Ever thought of sending a text?’”
He grumbles. “Okay, so what if I—”
“Jonas, no. Stop. No stalking. No calling. No flowers. No boom box. No luring the poor girl across the street in her nightgown and slippers. Do you want to push this girl away forever?”
His face flashes with earnest concern. “No. Of course not. Quite the opposite.”
“Do you want her to think you’re a total pussy?”
He clenches his jaw. “No.”
I shake my head. “Then just give her some fucking space. Please. Just listen to me. When am I ever wrong about women?”
He opens his mouth and then closes it.
“The answer is ‘Never.’ I’m never wrong. I’m some sort of woman-whisperer, dude—trust me. You want a woman to want you? Then you gotta know when to leave her the fuck alone. Just chill the fuck out and give the girl some time to figure her shit out. I guarantee you, if you back off and let Sarah take things at her own pace, let her figure out what she’s feeling and what she needs, she’s gonna call you and say, ‘Come get me, Jonas. I want you.’ Mark my words, bro.”
“But what if I just—”
“No! Just let her call you when she’s ready to talk. And in between, send her a few texts to let her know you’re thinking about her—nothing too heavy. She’s probably all doped up on pain meds and feeling like shit and sleeping most of the time, anyway. And her mom’s probably bringing her homemade chicken tortilla soup or whatever. You can’t compete with that magical-mom shit, bro. No one can. That’s why everyone says, ‘There’s nothing like a mother’s love.’ I realize we don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, but the rest of the world does. I’ll bet you a thousand bucks if you listen to me and give her some space, she’s gonna call you within three days and say, ‘Come get me.’”
Jonas grunts. “Why would I take that bet? I’d be betting against myself.”
We’ve arrived at Jonas’ house, thank God. I’ve never wanted to get out of a car more in my entire life. Jonas pulls into his driveway and kills the engine on his car. He turns to look at me, his eyes blazing. “Josh, you don’t understand.”
“I think I do.”
“No. I have something really important I need to tell her. Right away. Something she needs to understand.”
“Whatever it is, it’ll have to wait.”
He shakes his head furiously. “Josh, listen to me. I need to tell her something—something I’ve never said to any other girl—even Amanda.” He swallows hard. “The most important thing there is to say. I’m gonna say it to Sarah.”
I can’t believe my ears. My brother’s gonna tell this girl he loves her? Wow, he’s never even said those words to me. Jesus, I’m light years ahead of Jonas in my emotional evolution, and I’ve only said those words to one girl in my entire life. (And it didn’t work out so well.)
“Wow, Jonas,” I begin to say, but he cuts me off.
“So don’t fucking tell me to be patient,” he roars, out of nowhere. He abruptly gets out of his car, slams his car door like he’s trying to tip the car onto its side with me in it, and stalks toward his house.
I watch Jonas as he marches away, imagining myself hurling Chinese stars into his back. Oh my fucking God. I can’t take it anymore. I’m trying to be compassionate with this motherfucker. Just like I’
ve tried to be my entire fucking life. But it’s hard to be compassionate with a guy when he’s a total and complete dick.
Six
Josh
Oh, yeah. So good. Yes. I pump my shaft with increased intensity as the steaming hot water of the shower rains down on me. I can’t stop imagining her face, her unbelievable face. Oh my God. She’s a gift from God, created just for me. Those eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes. That subtle little cleft in her chin. I imagine myself pressing the tip of my cock into that little cleft in her chin right before sliding my full length into her sassy little mouth.
Oh God. I can barely breathe. I’m about to blow. I’m so close. I work myself even more furiously. My cock feels like a rocket about to lift off. Oh fuck. Yes. It’s beginning to ripple.
And her lips. They’re perfect, just like everything else about her. I imagine those lips wrapped around my hard cock, sliding up and down, devouring me. I run my finger over my wet tip, imagining it’s her swirling tongue.
“Oh shit,” I say out loud. I open my mouth wide and a blast of hot water floods it. My knees are buckling. I’m twitching. I’d pay a million dollars if my hand could be her warm mouth right now—two million if it could be her tight little pussy. The Club is full of hookers, it turns out? Fine by me. Some women are well worth the money. If Kat asked me to pay her to fuck her, I surely would. No questions asked. I’d give anything, anything, to see Kat looking up at me with those big blue eyes, her lips wrapped around my cock. I imagine her eyes glittering the same way they did when she found out I’d been a member of The Club. That’s the look that told me the girl is up for anything—with the right guy, anyway.
I’m the right guy for you, baby. Fuck yeah, I am. You’ve never been fucked like this before. That’s right, baby.
I fondle my balls with my free hand while my pumping hand continues working my shaft. Oh shit. My knees are buckling. This is so good. Any second now.
I picture her on top of me, riding me, her blonde hair falling down over her shoulders and cascading over her perky little tits. Erect nipples. Cleft in her chin. Blue eyes. Tight little body. Oh my God. She throws her head back. She’s having an orgasm. She’s screaming my name.