by Shandi Boyes
They return my friendliness with sultry smirks and batting lashes. Emily’s response is nowhere near as sociable. “Really, Jacob, ladies is the best you can come up with?”
“What? It’s hard to talk with my tongue hanging out my mouth. I might tag along when Noah comes to visit. Parkwood State looks like a place I could enjoy visiting.”
I stop waggling my brows when Emily makes a barfing noise. “That’s not funny.”
I’d give her a stern finger point if my hands weren’t loaded with boxes. Instead, I take a giant step away from her. “Yeah, it is.”
She dry-heaves again, louder this time. Noah must have told her about my morbid dislike of hearing people get sick. I hate barf, vomit, spew, chunder, whatever you want to call it. It’s disgusting, and just the thought of someone being sick makes my stomach churn.
Emily continues teasing me until the elevator arrives at her floor. I shadow her giggling ass into the room she’ll call home for the next four years. When I enter her dingy space, flashbacks of Noah’s childhood bedroom race to the forefront of my mind. There’s only one notable difference: Emily’s mattress is on a bed frame instead of the floor.
After dumping my boxes, I go collect some more from my car. “I’ll be back.”
Emily nods, acknowledging she heard me, but she remains standing in the middle of her room. Her nose is screwed up, and her brows are hanging low. She looks bewildered that this is it, her entire life in a handful of boxes. She’s got more than most. Noah only had the clothes on his back and holey shoes when he accepted the spare room in my family home.
Needing to make up for the training session I’m missing to help Emily move, I take the stairs instead of the elevator. I only lug one box this time since it weighs a fucking ton.
As I take the last three flights of stairs, I read the description written on the box. Sex toys and lingerie.
I remind myself to read in my head when two girls in the stairwell giggle. Although they’re giving me kissy gaga faces, I continue climbing the stairwell without exchanging digits. I’m too interested in figuring out how Emily has enough sex toys to fill this box to play nice. I’m not lying when I say it weighs almost as much as I bench press. I didn’t think Emily was a sex toy type girl. Lola... she’d have enough to fill a truck.
When my curiosity gets the better of me, I lower the box onto the top step of Emily’s floor. My eyes dart around the cold, empty stairwell to ensure no one is looking, then I take a peek inside the box, eager to find out what toys Noah has at his disposal.
I huff.
There’s nothing remotely like a sex toy in this box. It’s full of boring books.
After a roll of my eyes, I spot Noah exiting the elevator, the smug grin on his face illuminating a lightbulb in my head. I race a few paces in front of him and dart into Emily’s room with only a second to spare.
“Where do you want this box?” I waggle my brows, ensuring she knows I read the box’s inscription, but I don’t give her any indication that I peered inside. “What the hell do you have in here? It weighs a ton.”
I wait to detect Noah’s presence before pretending to take a peek inside the box. He slaps down the box’s flap and snatches it out of my grasp. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out.”
Point one to Jacob!
“Come on, man, don’t be a tease.”
My rile doesn’t have the effect I’m aiming for. Noah has Emily in his sights, which is my cue to leave before my retinas are burned with images I do not want to see.
While Noah and Emily suck face, I head back to my car for the last of Emily’s boxes. I’m just about to break through the fire exit doors when I catch sight of an attractive blonde sauntering down the hallway. She’s attractive but in a natural way that's hard to explain; maybe it’s the freckles adorning her nose. They give her a youthful appearance that would have some guys backtracking.
Upon noticing my gawk, her lips curve into a smirk. “I’ve seen you at Mavericks, haven’t I?”
I nearly shake my head, confident I would have noticed someone as beautiful as her, but hold back when I remember how many months I've spent staring at Mavericks’ doors, waiting for Lola to walk through them.
“You’re always there when Rise Up plays. Are you their manager?”
“No,” I chuckle. “They’re friends of mine, though.”
“Lucky friends.” Not even a gay man could misconstrue her flirty tone. She’s throwing out feelers, praying I’ll catch one.
I do. “I’m Jacob.” I offer her my hand to shake.
“Crystal.” She accepts my handshake as her teeth rake her lower lip. “Any chance I’ll see you at Mavericks Friday night?”
I try to hide my smug grin. You can be assured I’ll never win an Emmy. “There’s a very good chance—if that’s what you want?”
I haven’t missed a Rise Up show, but I’ll pretend her invitation is the reason I’m showing up if it keeps her looking at me like she is. It’s been a while since I’ve had someone eye me like this. I’ve only seen the gleam in her eyes once before. It was when Lola begged me to stay seconds before I left.
Crystal’s lip is freed from her teeth when she smiles. “I’d like that very much.”
"Then I guess it's settled. I'll see you at Mavericks on Friday."
My shot out of nowhere becomes a slam dunk when Crystal purrs, “I can’t wait.”
After flashing a smile, she moseys down the hall, and that’s when my nerves kick in. Crystal is the type I usually go for, but I haven’t been on a date in over six months. Noah jokes I ran out of dating privileges because I used them too frequently in my teen years, but I know the real reason I can’t move on. I can’t get a feisty, temperamental, infuriatingly beautiful, buxom brunette with the most dazzling light brown eyes out of my fucking head.
I miss Lola every day, but I can’t force someone to be a part of my life. Especially someone as stubborn as she is, so as much as I wish circumstances were different, I have to pull my head out of the sand and start living again. I’m certain she’s already moved on, so it’s time for me to do the same.
After collecting the last two boxes from my car, I head back to Emily's room. She’s still sucking face with Noah. “Get a room!” I tease them.
A smile etches onto my face when Noah gives me the finger. “These are the last two boxes, Em.” I dump them on the bed they’re making out on before shifting on my feet to face them. “How was your meeting, Noah?”
I forgot to ask him earlier. It’s not entirely my fault. He had Emily on his radar, and there’s no stopping him once he spots her.
“Good, really good. They enjoy the sound we’re creating and want to experience it live. They’re coming to watch our gig this Friday.”
“They’ll love you guys!”
I add to Emily’s enthusiasm by slapping his shoulder. “That’s great news, Noah. This is what you’ve been working for your whole life.”
Realizing this is the perfect time to reignite my earlier tease, I wrap him up in a big bear hug. Noah isn't a touchy-feely type of guy, so I hang on to him until I feel his heart raging in his chest.
I’m certain he’s seconds away from telling me to fuck off, so you can imagine my shock when he chuckles, “Alright there, big guy, don’t start crying.”
My arms drop to my side like atomic bombs. After too much beer last Christmas, Patrick told Noah about the one time I cried in primary school. Noah has used it against me ever since. Asshole.
Eager to return his scorn, I shove him away from me. “Whatever.”
Before Emily has a clue about what’s going to happen, I curl my arms around her and spin her around the room. “Emily loves my big hugs. Don’t you, Em?”
After spinning her enough times I’m afraid her earlier fake vomiting will become real, I lower her back to her feet. Since I'm still in teasing mode, I ensure her body remains plastered to mine during descent. My rile pays dividends when Emily's cheeks bloom a mere second before No
ah yanks her away from me.
“Get off her, Jacob!”
Another point for Jacob.
Emily almost makes it too easy for me to win. I shouldn’t use Noah’s jealousy against him, but could I really call him my best friend if I didn’t? Furthermore, with all the hype his band is getting, it’s my job to keep him grounded.
That’s why I add extra sass to my smile when I wave goodbye while pacing into the hall. “Bye, Emily.”
My heart beats triple time when Noah races over to slam her bedroom door in my face. “Fuck off!”
While pacing down the nearly empty hallway, I cup my hands over my mouth to replicate the murmur of a noisy crowd. "Game, set, and match, the winner is Jacob!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lola
My heart races a million miles an hour as my nervous gaze floats over the dozen patrons wasting a glorious Sunday afternoon at Mavericks. Although there are more people than I was anticipating, I inwardly sigh when I fail to locate Maggie behind the bar.
After exhaling a big breath, I make a beeline for a table in the far back corner of the room. The fewer witnesses to my "date," the better. I'll never forgive myself if this gets out. I can't believe out of all the establishments in Ravenshoe he had to pick from, he chooses Mavericks. I haven't been here since the day I resigned. Nothing has changed. It still has the same homey feeling sought by lost souls at all hours of the day and night.
I’ve just slipped into my seat when Callum breaks through the large wooden entry doors. Now that he’s clean, he looks like the Callum I used to know. His hair is shiny, minus the grease from the last time I saw him; his face is clear and void of blemishes, and his clothing looks new.
His endeavors to reach me were as extreme as Jacob’s after the incident, and I ignored him as adeptly as I did Jacob. There was just one difference: Jacob gave up within weeks. Callum didn’t. He continued messaging and calling every day until I finally caved...
“Please leave me alone,” I plead into the phone.
I’m having enough trouble forgetting Jacob, let alone having images of him pop into my head every time Callum’s name flashes across the screen of my phone.
“Please don’t hang up.” The sincerity in Callum’s tone shocks me. I haven't heard him use manners in months. "I just want the chance to tell you how sorry I am.”
Although I’m surprised by his change in demeanor, I’m still not eager to talk to him. “Apology accepted; now leave me alone.”
I stop dragging my phone away from my ear when he rushes out, "I'm clean. I've been drug-free for the past six months.”
“That’s good; I’m glad.”
Deep down inside, I know the Callum who attacked me wasn’t the same Callum I fell in love with, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let him back into my life now that he’s clean. There’s too much water under the bridge for us to ever be friends. He’s the reason I’ve been living the life of a recluse the past six months. I hate him for that...and for what he did to Jacob.
“Take care, Callum.”
My thumb hovers over the disconnect button when Callum shouts a name I’ll never forget.
I push my phone back to my ear so fast, I smack myself up the head. “What did you say about Jacob?”
Knowing he has me by the throat, Callum’s tone changes in an instant. Back is the asshole I know all too well. “I can’t tell you over the phone. Meet me in person, then you’ll know everything.”
“Nice try, Callum, but I wasn’t born last week.”
“You won’t be so quick to say that when you hear what I’ve got to say.”
The superiority in his tone pisses me off, but not enough to weaken my curiosity. "If that were true, you'd tell me now. You've never been good at keeping secrets."
“I can when it hurts people I care about.”
“Hurt who? Me or Jacob?”
I don’t give a shit about myself. I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it, but if this is in regards to the threat Curtis made against Jacob months ago, I want to know.
Worry brews in my gut when Callum breathes out, “Both.”
“Then just tell me now—”
“No, if you want to know, you have to meet with me.”
I fist my shirt, unsure what to do. I refuse to be in the same room with Callum, but I want to know what’s going on so I can warn Jacob.
“I’ll meet you somewhere public.”
Callum breathes harshly down the line. “I won’t hurt you again, Lola.”
“In public or not at all. Those are my terms.”
A sturdy length of silence stretches between us. It's as tension-filled as you'd expect.
“Okay,” he finally gives in. “I’ll text you a time and the place later today.”
With that, he hangs up...
When he texted an hour later requesting that I meet him at Mavericks, I initially refused. Mavs is Jacob’s home turf, so there’s no way I could do that to him. I was halfway through punching out a refusal when I recalled Emily saying Jacob was helping her move in today. With traffic extra hectic from everyone preparing to return to school, the drive from her university to Mavericks was a solid two hours.
With that in mind, I changed my text, agreeing to meet Callum here.
I’m snapped back to the present when Callum swoops down to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”
I'm about to tell him to keep his mitts to himself when a much more dangerous situation arises. Maggie is standing just behind Callum. Her eyes are slit, her fists balled.
“Get out of my bar!” She steps closer to Callum, locked and loaded on her target. “And if I ever see you here again, I won’t hesitate to bring out my bat...or my gun.”
Callum jackknifes back, seeming confused about why Maggie is so angry. His eyes dance between hers before he slants his head to me. Only now does it dawn on me that he was high when he attacked me.
“I’m sorry, we’ll leave now.”
I slip off my barstool and make a beeline for the door, only to have Maggie snatch my wrist. “You can stay.” Her squinted gaze strays back to Callum. “But he has five minutes to get the hell out of my bar!”
“What the fuck?”
With Callum’s anger growing, I have no choice but to get him out of here before he detonates. After giving Maggie a look, one that says I’ll always appreciate her help six months ago, I wiggle out of her hold before taking up my own on Callum’s wrist. “Let’s go. I’ll explain it to you on the way out.”
Just as we pace out the doors, Jacob’s car pulls into an empty spot at the front.
Oh shit.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jacob
As my shoes click the worn floors of Mavericks, I take in the patrons filling the space on a lazy Sunday afternoon. There are more people than I expected when I decided to wash away my crappy week with a beer or three.
When I stop at the bar, Maggie’s eyes pop up from the sparkling counter she’s scrubbing with her beloved red dishcloth. With how hard she’s rubbing, I’m surprised she hasn’t scoured off the varnish.
“Jacob...what are you doing here on a Sunday afternoon?”
I take a moment to decide if her high tone is shock or anger before answering, “Just finished helping Emily move, figured I could waste the calories on a couple of beers.” I’m leaning toward shocked, even with sweat beading her neck.
She throws her cloth onto the counter. “Speaking of beer, can you help me bring up some cartons from the cold room?”
“Sure.” When she races for the back exit of the bar, my brows furrow. “Now?”
She’s so eager to get outside, I almost miss her head bob. I jog to catch up with her, equally alarmed and excited. I’ve never been granted access to this half of Mavs before, so I’m somewhat excited she needs my help. It gives me a chance to snoop.
When I enter the cold room, the first thing I notice is that it’s half-empty. It’s lucky Ollie schedules a delivery every Frid
ay afternoon, or Noah’s pay would be half the pittance it already is.
“Which boxes do you want?” When my question is met with silence, I spin around to face Maggie. Her attention is fixed on something outside. “Maggie?”
“Huh?” She joins me inside the cold room, her breaths visible in the frigid air.
I stare at her, struggling to work out why she’s such a scatterbrain today before questioning again, “Which cartons of beer do you need?”
“Oh... umm. .. that one.” She points to a single box stacked by itself. It looks like a Chinese-manufactured beer.
Scrunching my brows, I peer back at Maggie. “Just that one?”
She stops glancing outside to peer back at me. “Yep.” Her shrug is as off-putting as the remorse in her eyes.
“Alright.”
I collect the carton of beer she’s requesting before attempting to leave the cold room. I say "attempt" because Maggie is blocking my exit. When I step to the left, she steps to the right, trapping me in the icebox that's close to turning my lips blue.
“Maggie...?” I want to say more, but I’m too stunned by the petrified look in her eyes. It’s giving me more chills than the cold conditions surrounding me.
“I didn’t need your help with the beer. I just needed you out of the bar before you saw them.”
My throat works hard to swallow. “Saw who?” I already know whom she’s referring to, I just want her to click all the pieces of the puzzle together for me.
“Lola...”
My breath hitches in my throat.
“And Callum.”
My stomach slithers into my gut. I dump the beer back on the shelf and sprint out of the cold room, accidentally bumping into Maggie on my way past. With my heart pounding in my ears, I drag my eyes up and down the half-full parking lot before sprinting into the street. I can’t see Lola anywhere.
I discover why when Maggie says, “They just left—”
“They?” Lola couldn’t possibly be that stupid, could she? “Is Lola with Callum?” The way I murmur "with" leaves no doubt about what I'm asking. Is Lola dating Callum?