Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1)

by Sabrina Stark

  "I'm not sure, but it's worth a shot."

  Yes, it was worth a shot.

  Suddenly, I was desperate for ice cream.

  Chapter 33

  I held out the white paper bag. "I brought us a snack."

  Joel smiled. "Yeah? What is it?"

  His smile made me feel warm all over. "Sundaes. They were hot fudge."

  His eyebrows lifted. "Were?"

  "Well, I bought them like four hours ago." I glanced down at the bag. "But they've been in Cassie's freezer, so they're not melty or anything. It's just that, well, the fudge isn't technically hot anymore."

  During my lunch break, I'd dashed over to the ice cream shop in search of answers. Unfortunately, Terry hadn't been working, so I'd left with the next best thing – something cool and sweet for the walk on the beach.

  After all, I had to buy something from the ice cream shop, if only to be polite – and to learn that Terry would be working tomorrow. I didn't care how much ice cream it took, I was determined to get those answers.

  In front of me, Joel said, "Cold fudge sundaes, huh?" He gave a slow nod. "Works for me."

  "If you want," I said, "we could eat them on the end of the pier."

  He reached out and took the bag from my hand. And then, he closed his other hand around mine, entwining our fingers as we walked along the sidewalk, heading toward the public beach.

  It was funny. I wasn't on vacation. But with Joel at my side, I almost felt like I was.

  At my suggestion, we'd met outside the cookie shop, which meant that I was wearing the same thing I'd been wearing at work, navy shorts and a white polo shirt. As for Joel, he was wearing black shorts and a gray T-shirt, emblazoned with the name of some gym that I didn't recognize.

  As we strolled, we talked about nothing in particular, but I loved every minute of it. I especially loved the fact that for once, strangers were staring at him, not me.

  It was easy to see why. He was pure perfection, both in the way he looked and in the way he moved. There was something about his demeanor that made people pause and take notice, even as we moved from the sidewalk, to the beach, and finally onto the long wooden pier.

  A half-hour later, the sundaes were gone, and we were still sitting side-by-side on the pier's edge, watching the boats skim along the waters of Lake Michigan.

  It was nearly six o'clock, and the sun wouldn't be setting for hours yet. But a cool breeze was coming off the water, and I felt more relaxed than I had in forever.

  I knew why. It was because of Joel, sitting beside me like some kind of mystical, protective force, as crazy as that sounded. For so long, I'd been on my own. Technically, I was still on my own. And yet, with him beside me, everything felt different.

  It was strange to think that I never would've met him if it weren't for Derek and that whole painting fiasco. That reminded me. I still didn't know how Joel had gotten that job.

  I turned to Joel. "Hey, can I ask you something? How'd Derek end up hiring you? You know, to paint the boardroom."

  "That?" Joel gave a humorless laugh. "I wasn't hired. I was set up."

  Knowing Derek, this wasn't a huge surprise. He hated to see anyone get the best of him, especially in public. I asked, "Do you know how he did it?"

  "Yeah. With help."

  "From who?"

  "From this guy I know – a painter who's been keeping an eye on my stuff."

  His stuff? Meaning the Camaro and its contraband? Probably.

  I asked, "So how'd the guy do it?"

  "The truth?" Joel said. "With a sob story."

  "What kind of sob story?"

  "The usual. Sick kid, schedule conflict, needed someone to cover for him."

  "Was any of that true?" I asked.

  "No. But like a dumbass, I believed him."

  "So just like that, you agreed to paint the boardroom?"

  "Hell no," Joel said. "I tell him the truth, that I'm not a house-painter. And he says, 'Yeah, but you're still a painter, right? You'll figure it out.'"

  "Wait a minute," I said. "So you do paint?"

  "Yeah, but not houses," Joel said. "Anyway, I tell this guy, 'Sorry, you'd better find someone else.' But he gives me this story, on how he can't reschedule because it's in the contract. And he says the job's too important, a big one in a fancy house."

  Heat rushed to my face. Obviously, he meant my house. And he was right. The house was fancy, even if it did need a ton of work.

  Joel continued, "And this guy tells me how he might lose his own house if he can't get the job started."

  I blew out a long breath. "Wow, no pressure there."

  "Tell me about it." Joel turned away, gazing out over the water. "You know what it's like to lose your house?"

  The question hit a little too close to home. I didn't know. But lately, I'd been wondering if I might eventually find out.

  Still, I shook my head. "No. Do you?"

  "No. But I know what it's like to worry about it."

  For some reason, that surprised me. "You own a house?"

  "Not mine. My dad's. Back when I was a kid."

  Of course. That made a lot more sense. "So you felt sorry for the guy?"

  "Not just him," Joel said. "He's got a wife and three kids."

  "Are you sure?" I asked. "I mean, how do you know that wasn't a lie, too?"

  "Because I met them last week." Something in Joel's voice warmed. "The kids are pistols, cute as hell."

  The warmth in his voice surprised me, and I couldn’t help but smile. I loved kids. I wanted ten of them – okay, maybe not ten. But I wanted a lot. If I had my way, I'd keep the house and fill it with a giant family to call my own.

  Feeling almost shy about it, I said, "So you like kids?"

  Joel gave a loose shrug. "Eh, depends on the kid."

  I studied his face in profile. The answer felt like a copout, like he didn't want to admit, maybe even to himself, that he had a huge soft spot under that rough exterior.

  Or maybe that was just my own wishful thinking.

  I said, "So you took the job because of the kids?"

  "Not just the kids," Joel said. "This guy? He's got two part-time jobs and a beat-up truck that's always breaking down. The house-painting, he does on the side. The guy's no slouch, but he's having a hard time catching a break, you know?"

  I nodded. And even though I lived in a mansion, I could almost relate.

  "Anyway," Joel continued, "just before I head out there, the guy hands me this check from the firm who hired him. I look down, and I see my name. When I ask about it, he tells me he worked it out so I'd get something for showing up. And I tell him, 'Keep it. I don't need the money.'"

  "You don't?"

  Joel gave another shrug. "I'm doing alright."

  Was that true? I realized that Joel drove an expensive car, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. I considered my own situation. I lived in a huge house, and yet, I could hardly afford ice cream.

  I asked, "So then what happened?"

  "You saw what happened. I get to that meeting, and who's there? The douchebag from the beach."

  "Right. Derek." I tried to laugh. "I'm almost surprised you didn't bolt the minute you saw him."

  "Yeah. Me, too." Joel gave a wry laugh. "I was actually pretty proud of myself."

  "So why didn't you leave?" I asked.

  "Because I didn't want to screw over the guy who sent me. So I figure I'll let the douchebag have his fun, and get on with it." Joel smiled. "And who knows. Maybe I'd catch the douchebag later on, after the job's done and paid." An edge crept into his voice. "We could 'talk' again."

  I didn't ask about what. But somehow, I doubted any actual talking would be involved.

  I considered his explanation. Finally, so many things made sense – in particular, the amount of crap that Joel had taken before losing it.

  Thinking out loud, I said, "But then, at some point, you realized…"

  "That the job was a crock?" Joel made a scoffing sound. "Yeah."

>   I almost didn't know what to say. "Wow."

  Joel turned to face me. "You know, I might've realized sooner, except there was this girl, sitting next to the douchebag, distracted the hell out of me."

  I felt myself smile. "Me?"

  "You've gotta ask? There was something about you, made it hard to think."

  My breath caught. "Really?"

  Joel nodded. "And I could tell you were embarrassed as hell. It reminded me of something."

  "What?"

  "How embarrassed I used to get when my family made asses of themselves."

  I hesitated. "But Derek and I aren't related. You didn't know that?"

  "I do now. But I didn't then."

  "Let me guess," I said. "You thought we were brother and sister?"

  Joel shrugged. "Or cousins."

  "We get that a lot," I said, "probably because our families grew up so close. Sometimes, he almost feels like a brother."

  "And other times?" Joel asked.

  "Other times?" I forced a laugh. "I'm pretty sure I want to strangle him."

  After a long pause, Joel asked, "You two ever date?"

  I drew back. "Heck no. Never. Me and Derek?" I gave a little shudder. "It would be like dating your brother." I paused. "Well, not your brother. But my brother, if I had one, that is."

  "Yeah?" Joel smiled. "Good to know."

  I smiled back. "Why?"

  "You know why." He leaned closer. "Less competition."

  I rolled my eyes. "Like you have to worry about competition."

  "You think I'm joking?"

  "Aren't you?"

  Joel gave a slow shake of his head. "Not with you." He stood and pulled me to my feet. "Now come on. I promised you dinner."

  He had promised me dinner. But I felt almost guilty taking him up on it. I still knew nothing about his job, or whether he even had one.

  At last night's campfire, I'd asked in a roundabout way, but he'd dodged the question by joking that his only job now was to be on vacation.

  I bit my lip. Maybe he didn't even have a job. Looking to conserve his money, I said, "Well, technically, we've already eaten."

  "The ice cream? Sorry, that doesn't count." He looked around. "So what's good around here?"

  I tried to think of what would be affordable. "We could hit the taco stand, and then eat right here on the beach."

  He gave me a look. "Is that what you want?"

  "Sure." I turned to gaze out over the water. "I mean, it's a great view, right."

  "Yeah," he said. "It sure is."

  But when I turned to look, he wasn't looking at the water. He was looking at me. And I was looking at him. If he thought his view was nice, he should see mine.

  Over tacos, Joel told me the rest of the painting story. Apparently, the painter – who also worked part-time at the storage place – was under the mistaken impression that Derek and Joel were old friends.

  He'd gotten that impression from Derek, who'd hadn't really hired the painter at all, except for slipping the guy a hundred bucks to get Joel out there. Apparently, Derek had claimed the whole thing was a harmless ruse to get Joel out to my place for a surprise party.

  Some party.

  And yet, that whole sorry fiasco was the reason that I'd met Joel at all. Who knows, maybe I'd thank Derek someday, assuming I didn't strangle him first.

  Chapter 34

  "So?" Cassie said. "How'd it go?"

  I'd just arrived for my afternoon shift at the cookie shop. At the memory of last night, I felt myself smile. "It was nice."

  "How nice?" she asked.

  I couldn't stop smiling. "Really nice."

  I went on to tell her how Joel and I had tacos on the beach, and had then returned to his campsite for another campfire.

  "And?" she said.

  "And what?"

  She lowered her voice. "Did it get romantic?"

  It had. But not in the naked sense. Mostly, it was a repeat of the previous night, except this time, Joel had pulled out a blanket, and we'd sat a whole lot closer while watching the fire.

  Yeah, there had been kissing, and a little petting, but nothing I'd be ashamed to do in public.

  When I relayed this to Cassie, she said, "I wonder if that's because of what April told him."

  I froze. I was almost afraid to ask. "What do you mean?"

  Cassie hesitated. "Are you sure you wanna hear this?"

  "No," I admitted. "But you'd better tell me, anyway."

  "Alright, remember at your party? When you went to the ladies room?"

  I shook my head. "Which time?"

  "It was that last time, near the end of the night. So anyway, you're gone, but Joel's still there. And April leans across the table, and she warns him that you're a nice girl, and that he'd better behave himself."

  My jaw dropped. "She didn't."

  Cassie nodded. "She did."

  With growing trepidation, I asked, "Did she say anything else?"

  "Oh yeah. She told him that he shouldn't be expecting any nookie – her word, not mine – for at least another month, because you're not a sack-jumper."

  I cringed. "You mean like, um, a ballsack."

  Cassie stared at me. "God, no." She burst out laughing. "Like someone who 'jumps in the sack' on the first date."

  My face was burning now with embarrassment. "Oh. Yeah. I knew that. Sorry."

  "You should be." She snickered. "Dirty girl."

  I wasn't dirty. I was humiliated, and not only because of my stupid mistake. Technically, what April told Joel was accurate, but did she really have to announce it to him in front of an audience?

  I didn't know whether to be touched or enraged. I looked to Cassie. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

  "Because I knew you'd be embarrassed." She laughed. "And you're totally blushing by the way."

  "I know," I groaned. "I can feel it."

  "And," Cassie said, "I figured you'd had enough embarrassment with that whole cowboy thing. And besides, it's not like you could take back her warning." She gave another snicker. "The ball was, after all, out of the sack."

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh, shut up."

  "If it makes you feel any better," Cassie said, "I think April meant to do you a favor."

  "Some favor," I muttered.

  I'd known April for years. Her heart was in the right place, but sometimes, her methods were a little ham-fisted for my taste. Reluctantly, I asked, "What did Joel say? Was he embarrassed?"

  "He didn't look embarrassed. And he was still there when you came back, so…" Cassie shrugged. "I figured it would all work out."

  I gave it some thought. Was I glad to know? Probably. But Cassie was right. Hearing this on Friday would've been my undoing. "I guess I should thank you for not telling me sooner."

  She flashed me a smile. "You're welcome." Suddenly she burst out, "Oh, man, I almost forgot to tell you."

  "Oh no." I cringed. "There's something else?"

  "Yeah, but you're gonna love this one. Guess who popped in for cookies this morning."

  "Who?"

  "Terry from the ice cream place."

  My shoulders sagged. "And I missed her?"

  "Yeah, but don't worry. I got the scoop."

  Now, it was my turn to snicker. "The ice cream scoop?"

  Cassie looked heavenward. "Forget the ice cream. I meant the scoop about Joel and Angelina. You wanna hear what happened?"

  I leaned forward. "You know I do."

  "Well, the way Terry talks, Angelina practically begged Joel to take her home."

  I hesitated. After my stupid ballsack confusion, I wasn't taking any chances. "You mean like give her a ride?"

  "Oh, she wanted a ride, alright." Cassie gave me a significant look. "And to be ridden, if you know what I mean."

  I did know. And in this case, I could actually relate. With more than a little nervousness, I asked, "Did Joel take her up on it?"

  "That's the best part," Cassie said. "He turned her down flat."

  Relief course
d through me. "Really? How'd she take it?"

  "Like a dog in heat."

  I frowned. "Huh?"

  "The way I hear it, she wouldn't take no for an answer. She starts rubbing on him and saying stuff like–" Cassie did a mock impression of Angelina. "'–Listen, Lover-boy, one night in my bed, and you won't want to go anywhere."

  Lover-boy? I almost shuddered. "So what'd he do then?"

  "At first, he's trying to be cool about it. But then, when she still won't take no for an answer, he tells her to piss off."

  I felt my eyebrows furrow. "Piss off?"

  "Yup," Cassie said. "Exact words, according to Terry."

  "So then what happened?"

  "So then, Angelina tells him, 'Hey, if that's your kink, count me in.'"

  I felt my body go rigid. "You mean like–"

  "Pissing on each other?" Cassie laughed. "Yeah. That's the way it sounded."

  I almost didn't know what to say. Talk about unsanitary. "What did Joel do?"

  Cassie gave a nonchalant shrug. "Well, what could he do? He whips it out and pees on her."

  My jaw hit the floor. After a long, horrible moment, I managed to say, "Please tell me you're kidding."

  Cassie burst out laughing. "Of course I'm kidding! Jeez. You should see your face."

  I didn't want to see. I could still feel the heat burning across my cheeks. Somehow, I managed to ask, "So tell me. What did he really do?"

  "He shrugs out of her buxom clutches and gets the hell out of dodge, leaves her standing there, panting after him."

  I gave a little shudder. "Better panting than peeing."

  "You're telling me," Cassie said. "So anyway, she finally flounces off, looking for Derek."

  "Did she find him?"

  "Nope. By then, he was long gone."

  Probably, Angelina was lucky, at least when it came to Derek, because a few days later, it was me dealing with him. And, with Joel set to arrive any minute, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

  Chapter 35

  Standing on the front porch, Derek made a show of looking at the yard. "It's getting a little long, isn't it?"

  Oh, crap. I gave the lawn a nervous look. "You mean the grass?"

  "Well, I'm not talking about the driveway if that was your other guess."

  God, what an ass.