Dad Bod (Under Construction Book 1)

by Silla Webb

  “Let’s get on stage,” I shout over the music, like it is the most natural thing in the world.

  “Hell yeah!” Laney shouts, and Bryn and Erin must agree because we’re almost to the DJ’s table by the time I realize that we’re all going. Yasss, we are so much fun. I stare at the DJ’s stand, and it’s not big. All four of us and him are not going to fit on there, so we’re gonna need him to move. I can do those spinny things, can’t be that hard. Just move some records back and forth, make some spittin’ noises.

  “Hey, handsome,” Bryn coos at the DJ, motioning for him to bend down so she can whisper something in his ear. Laney and Erin snicker and position themselves for the takeover while I already have one foot, somewhat shaky, behind his turntable, ready to pounce. Bryn has him eating right out of her hand, so I make my move with Laney and Erin bringing up the rear. The next thing you know I have the mic in hand, Lizzo still blasting, and three of the best people ever dancing beside me on this small stage behind a turntable.

  “We are so fucking bad ass,” Laney boasts. And we all agree.

  Bryn smiles at the DJ now standing below her then lifts her eyebrow as if saying—you really want to mess with four drunk women getting their mean girl rap on?

  “WHY MEN GREAT TILL THEY GOTTA BE GREAT!” I shout into the mic like a fuckin’ champ. The club erupts, and we’re all singing and dancing, myself included, like we own the world and will not be wishing for death tomorrow morning. As the song ends, I bring the mic to my mouth, “Mic check, one two,” and create my own dramatic pause. “Mic check, one two,” and the crowd cheers, and I have no fucking clue why other than their asses are drunk too. “Yo, yo, yo,” I shout and shift the record back and forth, creating that noise DJ’s make for effect until the record flies off the table to the right and lands at the real DJ’s feet. Shit, I hope that wasn’t expensive. When he looks up to the stage, I point at my sister. Because obviously, she’s a lawyer; she can pay for it if need be.

  I can no longer keep my fans waiting. “Yo, yo, yo, this is DJ Juicy Jordan; are y’all ready to turnt up.”

  Laney grabs the mic from my hand and spits out, “Word!” Needing to play music, because that’s what I do—I am a DJ.

  I look down at the table then over to Bryn, eyebrows raised as if asking, which one of these buttons do we push? She shrugs, so I push the first one I find, not wanting to lose momentum.

  “Let’s get this place bumpin’,” Bryn shouts to the crowd. And we’re all ready to bust out into our best bad girl moves when the somber waves of “Shallow” fills the room, completely killing the vibe based on the abundance of boos from the crowd. Laney, Erin, Bryn and I just stand there, staring out into the crowd like what the hell do we do now? When the loud ruckus of laughter penetrates our thoughts, we look out to see Carter, Maverick, and Madden absolutely losing it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MADDEN

  We walk into Nell’s just in time to save the girls from a string of charges, from destruction of property to indecent exposure and destruction of music.

  Jordan quickly presses buttons on the turntable, trying to change the song, but the DJ—finally having enough—storms the stage to recover the damage by the drunken quartet.

  “What a total fuckin’ embarrassment,” Carter grumbles before he charges toward the stage to help a staggering Laney down the steps. I follow quickly behind him with Maverick in tow.

  “Had enough fun for the night, Lan. Let’s get you girls home.”

  “Weeee woooo! The Fun Police are hot on the scene!” Laney shouts in Carter’s face before pushing past him and staggering toward the exit. The fuck?

  Carter rolls his eyes, his lips moving as if he’s talking to himself, but I can’t understand a damn thing he’s said as the music drops, blaring the sounds of Post Malone crooning on and on about sunflowers.

  Maverick wraps an arm around the other two girls and leads them toward the exit, ever the playboy with his flirting ways.

  Jordan bumps into my chest, a drunken smile gleaming across her face. “Madden! I missed you! Where’d you come from? Your arms are getting big!? Damn I’m good, ain’t I?!”

  She smooths her hands over my arms, gripping at my biceps, and I stare starstruck at the beauty before me. There was never a doubt in my mind to Jordan’s beauty, but this isn’t the everyday hard-ass trainer I’m used to seeing. Her honey brown eyes are accentuated with sharp eyeliner and thick mascara, and her soft brown curls are loose and hanging down her back. Her body is wrapped tightly in a red dress that leaves little to the imagination. How she’s walking out of this damn bar tonight alone is beyond me, but part of me is glad that she is.

  “You sure as hell are, darlin’. Now, let’s get you girls home, okay?” I palm the small of her back and guide her outside. And guidin’ her ain’t no easy feat.

  “You’re going home with me? Hot damn, how’d I get so lucky! I look hot tonight, and not a damn one of these fuckers even attempted to flirt with me! I’m offended!” she whines, stumbling in her sky-high heels.

  “Total dicks,” I reply, just keepin’ with the conversation. I don’t realize my poor choice of words until it’s too late.

  “I wish! That’s why we had a girls’ night. Laney said my girly bits have cobwebs.” She stops dead in her tracks and clasps her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle my laugh, but the shake of my shoulders gives it away. “Fuck! I’m sooooo stupid when I drink!”

  “It’s just the alcohol talkin’, darlin’.”

  “Don’t I fuckin’ wish. At this point I’d pay for it.” She glares at me. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore tonight.” She smiles drunkenly, her tantalizing brown eyes glassy and dilated.

  “I won’t hold any of your drunken statements against you.”

  “Would you two hurry the fuck up!” Carter shouts. “Bryn’s gonna get arrested for public intox if I don’t get them off the damn street, and I can’t wrangle them up alone!” Fuckin’ hell. By Carter’s truck, Bryn is buckled over, grasping her stomach as she chucks all over the sidewalk, all the while Erin and Laney are running circles around the truck shouting, “Weeee woooo, weeee woooo!”

  I don’t know what the hell we did to deserve this kinda karma, but never again will I be subjected to girls’ night out.

  “STOP!” Carter shouts as he latches his arms around Laney’s shoulder and pulls her against his chest. “You’re gonna get your ass put in jail, and so help me God, Laney, I’ll leave your ass in the drunk tank for the night!”

  “Weeeee woooo, weeeee woooo!! Fuckin’ Fun Police on the scene!” She kicks and screams, thrashing wildly against him.

  “What did you have to drink! You’re fuckin’ psycho tonight,” he complains as he wrestles her into the front seat of the truck and quickly buckles her in. “Damn it!” he shouts as he slams the door.

  Bryn climbs into the back seat willingly, and Jordan slides in beside her. Jordan’s sister Erin, however, is now skipping around the truck while shouting, “I’m 100% that bitch!”

  “Fuckin’ hell!” Carter groans, tugging at his hair. I’d laugh if I was a lesser friend … ahh, what the hell. This shit is funny as hell. He throws me a pointed glare and says, “Really, taint sucker?”

  I shrug. “What do you expect me to do, Carter, clothesline her? Trip her?”

  “I’m half fuckin’ tempted.” He deadpans, huffing. “Last call for a ride, Erin. Pullin’ out in three.”

  Erin stops dead in her tracks and glares at Carter, full-on attitude with her hands on her hips. “Do you give Lan those same warnings, pal?”

  His face burns red, and he grits his jaw as he stands off against Erin, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gonna look real good when the DA gets slammed in the drunk tank, counselor.”

  “Fuck you, Ociffer.”

  “Three … two…”

  She groans and stumbles toward us. “You really are the Fun Police,” she grits as she climbs into the back.
>
  “Thank fuck!” Carter growls as he rips the driver door open and climbs in.

  I stare at the truck for a second, pondering, then I smack the top of the cab. “Brother…”

  Carter turns and looks out the window. “Dude, get the hell in or I’ll leave your ass. I’ve had enough of Tag tonight.”

  “Where the hell do you suppose I ride at?” He turns and looks in the back seat, his head then tipping toward the heavens.

  “Fuck.”

  “Just tell Laney to ride in the back with the girls.”

  He nudges Laney, whose face is pressed against the window, drool dribbling down the glass.

  “Who’s ridin’ on Mad’s lap?” Carter turns to the girls and asks. Fuck me runnin’.

  “Yeah, I can call a Lyft,” I relent, turning to walk down the sidewalk as I pull my phone from my pocket.

  “Mad!” I turn back as Carter climbs out of the cab.

  “Fuck, what?” I shout, irritated. It’s late, and I’m just ready to be home and away from these drunks. He motions me toward him as he opens the back door and ushers Erin then Jordan out.

  “We can all fit.” Erin climbs back inside the truck and Jordan stands there, arms clasped over her chest as if she’s cold, waiting.

  I look from Jordan to Carter then back to Jordan. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”

  “Dude, Bryn doesn’t know you. Erin is married. It’s innocent,” Carter persuades.

  “You fuckin’ owe me after this hellacious night.” I point at Carter. “Move your fuckin’ seat forward so I have some damn room,” I order. He quickly pulls his seat forward and waits while I climb in the back. I hold my hand out to Jordan and help pull her up into the cab, awkwardly positioning her onto my lap. Carter slams the back door shut then climbs in the driver seat, smacking the steering wheel.

  Carter pulls the truck from the curb, traffic in the Historic District bumper to bumper. He tunes the stereo in to fill the silence, Erin now slumped over on Bryn, the two out cold. Jordan sits ram-rod straight, and I’m not entirely sure where to put my hands. She glances back and smiles bashfully. This can’t be any more comfortable for her as it is me, and we’re friendly so I might as well be … well … a friend. Carefully, I place my hand on her hip, and she startles, turning to look back at me. I motion for her to lean into me, and she shifts on my lap turning toward her side. As she leans against my chest, she whispers, “Sorry, Madden.”

  “No worries. We’ll be back to the island soon.”

  Jordan falls silent, and I’m not sure if she’s fallen asleep like the others or avoiding conversation. The drive is uneasy, but we make it out of the city and hit Highway 80 quickly. My leg is going to sleep under Jordan’s weight, so I lift my hip trying to adjust her on my lap. She rolls her head against my shoulder, her delicate lip grazing my ear as she whispers, “Is that your phone in your pocket, or are you happy I’m on your lap?” She giggles, her head falling slack against my shoulder.

  Fuck. She’s drunk, Madden. Vulnerable. Has no idea what the hell she’s saying. I lean my head against the rest, having nowhere else to go, and exhale a deep breath to calm the spur of hormones raging through me. Please don’t get a fuckin’ hard-on. She wiggles her ass against my lap, and I pierce my teeth into my cheek to suppress a primal groan.

  “Madden,” she coos, twisting to face me, when we hit a pothole and her face contorts in disgust as she projectile vomits in my face.

  *~*

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Davenport, Mr. Kincaid. The kitchen is gorgeous,” Mr. Peterson says, shaking my hand then Carter’s. “I’m sure there will be more projects in the near future, so we’ll keep Davenport Construction in mind.”

  We’re just finishing the walk-through on the Peterson project. Mrs. Peterson is underwhelmed with the finish on the cabinets, but Mr. Peterson reminded her it was her choice, after only changing her mind four times. Or was it three? I’ve lost count. I didn’t expect him to call her on her indecisiveness with us present, but even I was over this project, and I didn’t manage it—Carter did.

  Carter and I see ourselves out and head to the company truck. We left Mav to start a new project with Carter’s crew, hoping I can trust him to manage projects with a crew on his own. I’d like to eventually move Carter to managing my crew so I can oversee all company projects and only be onsite when necessary. It’s hard to give up the control, but there are so many other things that need my attention.

  “Let’s grab some lunch,” Carter says, clasping me on the shoulder before rounding the tailgate.

  “Sounds good, brother. Rock’s good with you?”

  He nods, checking his cell. I drive the few blocks over and park, then we make our way to the hostess who seats us on the patio. The sun is hot, but there’s an overcast shielding its brightness.

  Carter peeks at the menu then closes it, placing it behind the condiments. “Mad, I know I don’t tell you enough, but I thank God your ass is gettin’ fit. I’m proud of you for it.”

  Hmm, the fuck? I cock my brow and peek at him over the menu that I’m studying. It’s difficult to eat out when you’re making a lifestyle change like this, but Rock’s has the best seafood on the island, so I can eat relatively healthy and guilt-free… If this fucker don’t get weird on me.

  “Yeah…” I trail off.

  “Saturday night… Fuck. Man, Laney and the girls were tore down. I couldn’t have got them home safely without you.”

  “Lesson learned. Next time, I say we let them sink.” I close the menu and link my hands, leaning into the table.

  Carter shakes his head. “Laney … damn, she’s a ball-buster.”

  Yeah, she is—always—but she was in rare form the other night. We’ve sat around the firepit and had drinks before, she’s even been drunk, but I’ve never seen Laney Kincaid in the state she was in Saturday night.

  “Bet her ass regretted it when she woke up yesterday, huh?”

  Carter laughs and leans back, scrubbing his hand over his neck. “Yeah, me and her both.” He shakes his head. “Two pm she was still asleep. So I turned the shower on ice cold and dumped her ass in.”

  I tilt my head and look at him in disbelief. Before I can even ask if he’s fuckin’ stupid, he answers that question for me.

  “What? I wanted a sandwich,” he reasons with a shrug.

  “So giving her a rude as fuck wake-up call was the effective way to ask her to fix your lunch?”

  “In hindsight”—he rubs his jaw, looking thoughtful—“no. But it was meant in good fun. Laney ain’t been herself lately.”

  “No shit,” I retort. “Laney’s been drunk many of times before, but I’ve never seen her the level she was the other night.” That much is true. Laney is always a happy-go-lucky life of the party kinda gal—even more so drunk. Saturday night, though… I don’t know what the hell to think about that.

  “Well, whatever’s eatin’ at her, she’ll talk about it when she’s ready.” Carter shuts the topic down, and I can respect him, Lan, and their marriage by agreeing with that. It’s between them. If he needs a sounding board, then the bastard better grow a vagina or beat the fuck out of something because that sure as fuck ain’t how we deal with that shit.

  “Hey, y’all, I’m Emily. Welcome to Rock’s. What can I get ya to drink?” the waitress greets.

  Carter’s grin stretches from ear to ear as he turns up the charm. “Well hello, sweetheart. You can get me a Budweiser draft, and I guess this taint will have a water with lemon.”

  She side-eyes me for approval, but I shake my head. “No, actually, we’ll both have a water with lemon please.”

  She glances to Carter who rolls his eyes. “Sure. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  “Such a fuckin’ killjoy, man.” Carter shakes his head.

  “I can’t in good conscience let you drink on your lunch hour.” I chuckle.

  “Like I said—killjoy.”

  After returning with our drinks, the waitress—Emily, takes our or
ders, completely ignoring Carter’s ignorant banter, and oddly enough paying extra attention to me. I brush it off until she rounds the table again, refilling my water glass and overlooking Carter’s request for ketchup.

  “You gonna pick up the hint, or you gonna let the woman continue embarrassing herself?”

  I look up from my plate, my brow cocked in question. Of course I’m playin’ dumb, but I’ve only recently decided I want to start dating, and it’s proving to be a huge undertakin’.

  “Am I missin’ somethin’?”

  “Emily … the waitress. She’s cute, right?” he goads.

  “I guess…” It’s more of a question than a statement. Damn, it’s hot outside. We shoulda sat in the dining room. Was it my idea or Carter’s to sit out in the blazing heat? The fuck… Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

  “Fuck, you okay, Mad?” Carter asks as I pick up the glass of water and chug.

  “I don’t know that I’m ready for this yet, Carter. Do you know how long it’s been since I…”

  “Fucked? Dude, it’s like riding a fuckin’ bike.” And of course Carter has no subtlety. The people sitting nearby gawk in our direction, a look of disgust on their faces as they earmuff their son who looks to be Belle’s age. Oops. Tough break.

  “Yeah, we’re not goin’ there. I mean dating.”

  “Ah, that. Yeah. Casey fucked you up good. I get it. But you gotta move on at some point.”

  I shake my head, unsure.

  “So if not Emily, how’s it goin’ on Bumble?” he asks, referring to the dating site I joined. I had no plans of initiating contact with any women on the site until I was prepared. Maybe not ever. Just testing the waters. I’m not exactly prime for market.

  I groan inwardly and push my plate away. “I’ve chatted with a few women. Really didn’t have much of a choice considering some di”—I look to my left, the lady at the other table shooting me a disapproving glare—“ahem… Some jerk threw me to slaughter.”

  “So I pushed you out of your comfort zone, Mad. Big fuckin’ deal. You said it yourself, dating was a goal. If you had no intentions of doing so, why are you on the site?” He glares at me, waiting for a response, to which I shift uncomfortably in my seat and cross my arms over my chest. “Ex-fuckin-actly. Sink or swim. Now man the fuck up and decide which one it’s gonna be.”