Birthday Girl

by Penelope Douglas

  I shake my head. Damn her brass.

  I turn around and walk back to the liquor closet, grabbing another case of beer. After I drop it on the bar, I head to the booth where the guys are still congregating and take out the same bottle of Busch Light I had before.

  “Staying?” Dutch inquires.

  I shrug, looking anywhere but at the bar. “For a bit, I guess.”

  I down the bottle inside of a minute, and it’s not my favorite beer, but I’m suddenly too embarrassed to go to the bar and ask her for a Corona now. I should’ve gotten one when I was up there.

  A server approaches, though, and I’m about to flag her down, but I notice she’s already heading my way with a tray of shots. She’s cute in her black miniskirt and black vest, but she doesn’t look any older than Jordan.

  She smiles. “Hey, guys.” And then she starts unloading her tray, setting a round of shots in front of us. They’re pink or orange on the bottom with some kind of yellow liquid on top.

  “What is this?” Jason Bryant, one of my guys, asks.

  “It’s called a Pineapple Upside Down Cake,” she says. “It’s on the house. Jordan says they’re Pike’s favorite.”

  A round of laughter explodes around the table at the “chick” shot everyone now thinks I drink, and I shoot Jordan a look at the bar.

  She grins, giving me her biggest, proudest smile.

  And now we’re not mad at each other anymore.

  Taking the shot, I down it, the alcohol going down like a piece of candy, and while it tastes fine, I’m not sure what the point is. There can’t be enough alcohol in it to feel anything.

  I’m sure it will be a successful running joke if I ever decide to join the guys for a drink again, though.

  After about an hour and another beer, the crowd has thinned a little, and I’m pretty tapped out on 80’s music. Jordan seems fine, and I’m not sure why I thought she needed protecting.

  I should just hit the road.

  But just then, a Corona appears in front of me, and I look up, seeing Jordan standing over me.

  “Hey,” she says, her expression soft and gentle.

  I’m sure it would be like that all the time if I would just stop fucking with it.

  “You doing okay, sugar?” Dutch asks her.

  She glances at him and smiles and then looks back down at me. “I was going to call you, actually,” she tells me, lowering her voice. “I don’t know if you’re staying late, but I was wondering if there was any way you could bring me home tonight. I don’t get off until two. Is that too late?”

  Her eyes are apologetic like she’s afraid she’s being an inconvenience, but of course, I told her to tell me if she needs a ride home. I’m happy to do it.

  “No problem. I’ll be here.”

  But Dutch nudges my elbow. “We gotta be at the site by five a.m., just remember.”

  “It’s fine,” I say curtly, barely looking at him.

  Of course, I’d love to get more than a couple hours of sleep, but this isn’t a choice.

  Jordan takes a step back. “Are you sure?” she asks again. “I could ask Shel. It’s a little out of her way, but I don’t want you losing sleep.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure her. “I’ll be here.”

  “Well, why don’t you just give her your keys?” Dutch speaks up. “I’ll drop you at home, and she can have your truck. I’m getting out of here soon anyway.”

  Mother— What is his goddamn problem?

  But Jordan rushes in, making her apologies. “No, no, it’s okay. I can—”

  “Fuck, I said it was fine,” I blurt out, shutting everyone up. Then I glare at Dutch. “Would you shut up?”

  He turns away, pursing his lips, because he wants to fucking smile like he knows something.

  Everyone is still for a moment, and I shake my head, pulling my keys out of my pocket. There’s no logical reason to wait around for her if Dutch is offering me a ride now.

  I hand her the keys. “Here you go. It works out perfectly.”

  “Are you—”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I tell her. “It’s fine.”

  She slides the keys into her pocket. “Thank you.”

  “Truck’s parked just around the corner.”

  She nods and heads back to the bar, glancing back at me once. I check my phone, seeing it’s nearly midnight, and if Dutch is giving me a ride, I’d rather get it over with now.

  I take a long swig from the Corona, drinking about half. It didn’t escape my notice that she remembered what beer I like, too. Pulling some money out, I toss a few bills on the table for whatever I drank and tell Dutch, “Let’s go.”

  He hauls himself out of the booth, his scruffy buzz cut mussed as he yawns. We make our way toward the door, and I pass the bar, tossing a few bills on it in front of Jordan.

  She gives me a knowing look. “Didn’t we talk about this?”

  “I’m just a customer.”

  The look in her eyes says she’s not buying my reason for tipping her, but the humor in her gaze says she’ll let it go. This time.

  We leave and walk across the street to Dutch’s Tahoe and climb in.

  “You didn’t really want to wait around until two, did you?” he asks as we fasten our seatbelts.

  Actually…

  “No,” I tell him, deciding I don’t have the energy to get into it. “Thanks for the ride.”

  He pulls away from the curb, and I slouch down a little, moving the seat back for more leg room. His wife is usually in this seat. I lie my head back, and into my hand, closing my eyes.

  I feel the car make a U-turn and then he speeds down the street, heading home. It’s quiet for a few minutes as he finds a satellite station, and the glare of the street lights glow through my closed lids. It’s a short drive home, but even still, I would’ve liked to have been the one to bring her. Who knows if that shithead ex tries to come around in the next hour? Will she be walking to the car with anyone?

  I’m not just worried about her safety, though. I have this urge to make sure she’s okay and taken care of, and while I’ve tried to morph it into a “fatherly” type of responsibility, it’s not.

  It never will be.

  I like what I feel when I see her and talk to her and think about her. Even when we fight. And I have to admit it to myself—I am attracted to her.

  I hate it, but I can’t ignore and pretend it’s not there anymore. I need to deal with it.

  It doesn’t have to be a big deal, though. We go through life running into people we’re attracted to all the time. It happens, and you can’t help it. It doesn’t mean I’d try anything. I just feel guilty it happened with her.

  And the fact that she’s in my house makes it harder.

  Cole really did get the shit-end of the stick with parents. What a fucking piece of work I am.

  I can’t help it, but I can make sure I don’t act on it.

  She doesn’t make it easy, though, getting into it with me as easily as she does. She knows how to press my buttons. Almost as if she was made for it.

  “She seems like a good kid,” Dutch breaks the silence.

  I open my eyes, the lids heavy from the long day. “Yeah.” I sigh. “She’s quiet. Clean. I barely know she’s in the house.”

  “That’s great.” I can see him glancing over at me from time to time. “Getting along okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  I feel him shrug. “She seems nervous around you.”

  I chuckle. He could say the same for me if he were looking close enough.

  “Well, I can be intimidating,” I joke.

  “Yeah, she looked like she wanted to straddle your hard, intimidating cock right there in the bar.”

  My eyes pop open completely, and I glare over at him. “Are you kidding me? What the fuck?”

  “Oh, please,” he shoots back. “You’re telling me you didn’t see her fidgeting and biting her lip at just the sight of you when she brought you your favorite beer?”


  She was?

  “She was like a puppy with her tongue hanging out of her mouth,” he added.

  Was she?

  I clear my head and look back out the window, puzzlement etched on my face.

  Whatever.

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” I tell him. “That’s my kid’s girlfriend, man. Come on.”

  Straddling my…. I shake my head. Unbelievable.

  “So, she’s off limits to you, then?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then why were you looking at her like you loved what she was wearing and wanted to see it on your bedroom floor tonight?”

  “I wasn’t looking at her like that,” I grit out through my teeth.

  But he just laughs under his breath.

  Asshole.

  “Hey, I’m not knocking—”

  “Shut up,” I say.

  Damn it. It’s not right. It’s bad enough I’m looking at her like she’s an actual woman and not my son’s girl, but I’ll be damned if anyone finds out about it.

  “All I’m saying is she’s exactly your type,” he tells me, evening out his voice. “Did you notice that? You always went for girls like her in high school. Before Lindsay, the Trainwreck, anyway.”

  “Just shut up.”

  But he doesn’t. “I’m not saying you should do anything. And that’s why I stepped in and didn’t let you bring her home.”

  His tone turns serious.

  “All kidding aside, Pike,” he goes on, “she is exactly your type. You shouldn’t be alone with her.”

  Yeah.

  I know.

  I just hope he’s the only person who’s noticed.

  “Thanks for the intervention,” I tell him, “but even if I were attracted to her, I’m capable of controlling myself.”

  “You’re not seeing yourself from my perspective.” He looks out the front windshield, solemn. “You look at each other like…”

  “Like?”

  He swallows, an unusually troubled pinch to his brow. “Like the two of you have your own language.”

  Jordan

  I pull into the driveway, my body jostling from side to side as the headlights fall on the closed garage ahead. Pressing in the clutch, I hit the brake and park, turning off the engine.

  The bar cleared out early, Shel and a couple of the other girls staying to close up, so I got out well before two tonight. Pike only left an hour ago, but he’s undoubtedly in bed by now. He’s not a night owl.

  I look over, seeing Cole’s Challenger parked in the next spot. He’s home.

  I knit my brow, apprehension suddenly hitting me.

  The distance between us is growing, and I feel like he’s miles away these days. The need he seemed to have for me a couple weeks ago is almost non-existent now, and I wonder why I’m still here.

  But I have an idea.

  Guilt winds its way through my gut as I remember what happened in the shower the other day, and how my brain took a completely different turn than I wanted. Or didn’t know I wanted.

  It was just the stress. The moment got away from me, and Pike was a focal point. He’s been nice and caring, and I’ve been starved for a little attention, and I zoned in on him. That’s it.

  At this point, though, I have almost no reason to stay here, but still, even with Cole’s and my problems, I hate the idea of leaving. This house has become familiar and warm. A home. And even though Pike can certainly be an invasive ass sometimes, I do like him. He cares. He doesn’t express his concerns very eloquently, of course, but I know his intentions are in the right place. It’s nice to have someone looking out for me and giving a damn about what I do.

  And I hate to admit it, but I like the way he makes me feel. The way his eyes look at me like I’m the only thing in the world.

  Climbing out of the truck, I grab my bag with the corset in it. I changed into a T-shirt before I left the bar, and while I felt pretty exposed all night with a few more pairs of eyes on me than I’m used to, I quirk a smile to myself, thinking of the wad of tips in my pocket right now. It’s not nearly what Cam makes or what I could make bartending at The Hook, but it’s more than I normally earn in a week, so…

  And I can’t lie. I kind of liked the attention. I knew the moment his eyes were on me tonight when he walked in and I was at the juke box. I could see him out of the corner of my eye when I walked to the bar, too, and I know that look. Possessive.

  I lock the truck door, my heart thudding again as I head for the house.

  I need to talk to Cole. I need to look into his eyes and take his hand in mine, look down at our matching little scars and see if I still feel this going anywhere. A few months ago, he always had his arm around me. Now I can’t remember the last time he’s touched me.

  Entering the house, I close the door, drop my bag, and slip off my flats. I curl my toes, the ache in my feet shooting up my calves.

  The living room is shrouded in shadow, and I walk to the dark staircase and stop, listening. No noise comes from upstairs, so Pike and Cole are probably both asleep. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I tiptoe into the kitchen and take a glass from the cupboard, pressing it under the water dispenser on the fridge.

  But when I glance up, I see Cole in the back yard and freeze.

  I drop my hand from the dispenser, the glass upending and the water in it splattering all over the wooden floor. Heat courses up my neck, my lungs empty, and I can’t look away. Everything hits me at once, and I feel like I’m outside myself, watching me watch him.

  Cole.

  I swallow twice, barely able to wet my throat. Elena Barros is in the pool with him, her elbows resting behind her on the edge, while he leans down into her, his forehead pressed to hers like he does with me. Her naked body glistens with water and moves in a wave, matching his rhythm as he grips her ass and fucks her, her breasts grazing his chest again and again.

  Absently, I take a step, coming to the sink, and continue to try to process what I’m seeing. Cole would never do this to me. He’s not my ex. He’s not my parents.

  My chest caves, too heavy to take in more air. Nausea rolls through my stomach, and bile rises up my throat.

  He cups her face, kissing her, his body moving steady and strong, and they hold each other’s eyes as he enters her again and again. I can’t hear her moans, but I know she’s enjoying it.

  Tears fill my eyes, I tighten my fist around the glass, and I clench my teeth. I’m angry with myself more than him. I should’ve been the one to end it when we got evicted from our apartment. I knew he only wanted me because he didn’t want to be alone. I could feel it then.

  But now here we are, and he’s had the last word, hasn’t he?

  My chin trembles, and the tears still over. My mom, Jay, Cole…. I am forever the most pathetic fucking person I know. I keep wishing the lousiest people wanted me. Why?

  “Hey,” someone says, but the voice sounds distant. “Home early, huh? Glad you’re not wearing the corset. Did you burn it for me?”

  The fridge opens, and the light pours out as someone digs in and pulls something out, but I keep staring out the window, something cold and thick slowly coating my stomach like syrup.

  I can change the moment I decide.

  “Jordan?” I hear Pike say. “Are you okay?”

  I finally realize he’s standing next to me. The fridge door closes, and I turn to look at him, tears still wet on my cheeks.

  His hazel eyes, looking amber right now, immediately narrow, concerned. But then his gaze flashes to the window, and all color drains from his face.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he growls and grabs my arm, pulling me away.

  I lose my composure and start gasping, drawing in heavy, shallow breaths as he veers around me and storms out the back door. I wipe the tears from my face, because I’m upset and hurt but mostly just pissed. And not entirely with Cole, either. I did this to myself. I always do this to myself.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I hear Pike bark.

  I hea
r a slosh of water, surprised voices, and a gasp.

  “Shit!” Cole exclaims. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “No one’s fucking asleep!”

  “What?” Cole says.

  No one. I think he just realized I’m home, too.

  Drying my eyes, I walk across the kitchen and let my legs do the thinking.

  Pushing through the back door, I descend the wooden stairs and see Elena hiding her naked body behind Cole who is still waist deep in the water.

  “What is the matter with you?” Pike stalks over, picking up the towels and throwing them at his son.

  He catches them and Elena snatches one, quickly covering herself as half the towel hits the water around her. She cast me scared glances.

  “I thought she was at work until two,” Cole tells him, sounding guilty and speaking to his father as if I’m not here. His head is bowed, and he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes.

  “So doing it behind her back is okay?”

  “No, I just—”

  “I can handle this,” I cut them both off, stepping up.

  I surprise myself by how calm my tone is and how I’m not crying. I don’t mind crying in front of Cole, but I’m not tearing up in front of her.

  Pike looks over at me, hesitating for several seconds. Finally, he turns around, and I hear the screen door shut.

  As soon as he’s gone, Elena quickly runs out of the pool, tightening the towel around her as she grabs her clothes from the lawn chair.

  “I’m going to go,” she says, an apologetic look on her face as her eyes dart between Cole and me. “I’m really sorry, Jordan.”

  She ducks her head and rushes past me, toward the house and probably straight to the bathroom, so she can change.

  I turn my eyes back on Cole. His blond hair is slicked back, and he looks at me with the same eyes he had right before he told me that Nick didn’t make it.

  I wish I was angrier with him.

  Mostly, I’m just disappointed.

  “It’s been going on a while?” I ask.

  His eyes fall, and he nods solemnly. “Since your birthday party.”

  You mean the one I didn’t attend?

  He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, stepping out of the pool and wrapping the towel around his waist.