The guy stares at me without an ounce of care. Some days, this city makes me realize why I’m so bitter. Everyone is either bitter or over-the-top happy with their running gear and super fit bodies. I don’t think there is an in-between, gray area, so I have to fit into one category, it isn’t the runner one.
I huff up the stairs and push the door open, finding Brendan in the same place I left him. “Are you still meditating?”
He doesn’t seem surprised or startled that I’m here. He simply closes his magazine and spins around on the bar stool. “Did you get fired?”
“Yes,” I groan. “I was only five—seven minutes late today.”
“Scarlett, I warned you that was going to happen. The hospitality industry isn’t very hospitable to those who can’t be respectful of time.”
“Well, I try to be on time. I know that doesn’t make a difference though.”
“Maybe you need a different shift,” he suggests.
“It won’t happen. The three o’clock shift is always taken by seniority. I never got there, evidently. Plus, that eliminates any chance of a nightlife too.”
“Have you considered that your nightlife might be the underlying cause of your problem?” Brendan is never condescending, but typically very parental. I’m not sure how his righteous words of advice never piss me off, but he’d have to do a lot to make me mad. I love him too much.
“Possibly,” I confirm.
“Well, there you go. Problem solved. Stop going out every night, and you’ll have less trouble waking up in the morning.”
“That’s great, but I still lost my job.”
“I know, but at least you’ll receive unemployment, so that will buy you a bit of time to find a new job that you’ll be happier at, and you won’t have a dick to look in the eye. Look at this as an opportunity to better your life.” Brendan looks up at the ceiling with a smile and opens his arms. I wish I could see things in the same fluorescent light he does because I can’t understand how he is always so damn positive. How is anyone? It’s not like I’m a miserable person. Actually, I’m fairly upbeat compared to many of the black-cloaked, dispirited city dwellers in this area.
“I’m afraid my glass is definitely half empty this time,” I tell him.
He stands up from the stool and comes closer. “Why is that?”
“Because they offered to transfer me to someplace in South Carolina. Obviously, I said no, so now I’m not qualified for unemployment.”
Brendan’s hands cup around my shoulders. “Oy, Scarlett! Why would you say no to an opportunity like that?”
“I’m not leaving Boston. Are you crazy?”
His big, caramel eyes widen with shock. “Um, are you crazy?”
“I’ve been living here my entire life. I can’t just pick up and leave.” My chest tightens at the thought, and I already feel myself getting worked up.
“That’s exactly why you should go.” I feel every stupid little line in my forehead deepen in response to his unexpected suggestion. “Scarlett, listen, starting fresh might be good for you. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to leave me, but this place has swallowed you up whole in the past few years, and it’s holding you prisoner, which is exactly what you don’t want, right?”
“You make it sound like we’re in the depths of hell,” I say with a forced laugh. “It’s Boston. I love it here.”
Brendan releases his hands from my shoulders and shrugs. “Okay, I was just offering my opinion. I’ll keep you here as mine for as long as you want to be here.”
I narrow my eyes at him, waiting for the “but.” I know him better than to just end a conversation with his simply stated opinion because he rarely gives up when he has a firm opinion on a subject. “So that’s it? We’re going to drop it?”
Brendan combs his fingers through his bronze, bed head, sexed hair (minus the sex part … I think) and closes his eyes. “I’m done,” he says, his short statement trailing off in a high-pitched tone that tells me he’s not done.
“Mmhm,” I grumble with a raised brow. “I’ll be in my room looking for job openings.”
The second I close myself into my room, I hear thuds and shuffling sounds coming from the open area of our apartment. Motherfucker. “Brendan! Do not get those boxes out!”
_________________________
AUSTIN
Thursday
Why in the hell would someone think it’s a good idea to tease a damn crocodile? That’s the third animal wound this week.
“Austin, did you finish up that file?” Clara shouts over from the main desk.
“Yeah, just a minute.” I click submit on the report and sign out for the night.
“Want me to walk you home?” I ask Clara. “Evidently, there are wild crocs all over the place right now.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but Derek’s coming to pick me up. We’re heading down to movie night in the square.”
“Ah, what are they puttin’ up on the screen tonight?” I ask her.
“Top Gun … again,” she replies, sounding unenthused.
“Don’t hate on the Top Gun, missy. That’s a golden movie.”
“It’s not a favorite of mine, and yet, I know every darn word.”
“Well, you should consider yourself lucky,” I tell her.
“I’ll try to remember that as I force myself to stay awake.” She drops a folder into one of the filing cabinets and leans over to the computer to close out whatever she was doing. “So, what are you up to tonight?”
My choices are slim. I could go solo to the movie. I could head to the bar and drink too much, or I could go home, drink too much, and pass out safely on my couch. Tough choice. I’ll go with option C.
“I’m just heading home for the night. I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow.”
“Austin,” Clara says with a grimace. “Let me set you up with my girlfriend. She lives in the next town over, so it isn’t too far away.”
“Stop worrying about setting me up with someone. I don’t need some chick in my life who’s going to nag at me for everything I do. I’m happy being nag-free.”
“Suit yourself, but I think you’re missing out.”
“Darlin’, I can assure you, I ain’t missing out on nothin’.”
“Well, have a nice night. Don’t do anything dumb.”
Dumb. Pftt. She acts like she knows me so damn well. Actually, she does know me well, but still. I don’t just do dumb shit every night, not as far as she knows, anyway.
I head into the locker room to pull a Mr. Rogers. I wonder how many people thought about what reason he had for changing his shoes every time he walked into his house. It always boggled my mind until I started working here at the hospital. There’s something about having work clothes and non-work clothes that separate my life into two equal halves.
After changing out of my scrubs and slipping on a pair of jeans, boots, and a tee, I’m out the door before anyone can stop me with another patient’s chart. If I don’t leave when I’m supposed to, I’ll never get out of here.
The streets are lit up bright tonight with the farmer’s moon stretching across the sky. It’s nights like this that make me want to drink. The damn moon makes me feel so small down here when I think about the rest of my world being up there somewhere. Fuck you, moon. Stop staring at me. I don’t need your judgmental glare.
I walk on past Dickle’s, hearing the guys at the bar holler at the TV. I stop for a minute to glance inside, checking out who’s sitting down the line across from the taps, but it’s no one I feel like chatting up tonight. My couch is still sounding like a better companion.
“Austin, is that you?” Yup. Wrong choice. I should have gone into the bar. I know that voice. “Austin Trace, don’t you go pretending like you can’t hear me.”
I roll my eyes and turn around. “Kelli, fancy seeing you here in front of Dickle’s. Meeting someone?”
“Don’t be snarky with me, Austin. You know who I’m meeting.” Oh,
sweet Kelli and her ten pounds of caked on makeup. It blends nicely under the moonlight, but not so much during the day. It’s funny, though, those things never bugged me when we were together. I didn’t notice how hard she tried to make herself look like someone else.
“Right, right. How is the old man?” Yeah, my twenty-four-year-old ex-girlfriend left me for a fifty-year-old rich man, but she doesn’t think anyone calls her a gold digger behind her back, so it’s fine. We weren’t together long, just long enough to make me question all women because of the way she ended things.
“He’s not old, Austin. Knock it off.”
“He’s old enough to be your pops, ain’t he?”
She sweeps her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her shoulder. “I think I just realized why I stopped trying to stay in touch with you.”
“Was it because you were banging old saggy balls?”
She grunts and stomps her boot into the pavement. “Good night, Austin.”
“Good night, Kelli,” I say with a dinky wave. Thank God I dodged a bullet with that one. The women in this town need money, not a man. It’s like the only damn thing they have eyes for, which I can’t understand. While our country has spent decades fighting for women’s rights, this town has remained ambivalent at best about women getting jobs. They’re bred to cook, clean, and raise kids. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home mom, but I know some women around here who actually want options. I guess it’s an expectation more than a desire, which is just sad. Clara is one of the few women I know who walk past the other “normal” women as they point their noses toward the sky and whisper about her like she’s committed a crime. Clara wanted to become a nurse, so she did. I’m still betting that someday the other women will get tired of relying on their men, and either do something else or wish they could summon the courage to do so.
The coyotes are hollering tonight as I head down my quiet street, probably because the one neighbor I have is gone for the next few weeks, so it’s dark as hell. I just don’t like to leave my lights on when I’m gone. It invites idiots down here to party in the field behind my house.
I light up my cell phone to watch for wild animals as I let myself inside. I hit the lights, kick my shoes off, and head for the fridge.
“Don’t move, Waldo, it’s okay. It’s just me. I’m not breaking and entering. I don’t want you to get nervous or nothin’.” This big, fat dog is hard-pressed to even raise an eyelid at night when I come home. He must have gotten bored with the same old greeting each day. Plus, I think he’s more of a morning man.
The icy cold beer feels good as it nestles into my palm, but the millisecond before my ass hits the couch, my damn phone starts to ring. I see the hospital’s number light up and cuss out every obscenity I know.
“Austin,” I answer.
“Austin, it’s Daisy. Someone set off a firework down at the square and we’ve got a room full of people with burns. No one is coding, but I need your help. You think you could come back down?”
“Yeah.” I look down at my beer and snarl. I was so close. “I’ll be right down.”
It’s not even June. Why the hell are people playing with fireworks already? [Click to Continue]
Man Handler
Copyright © 2018 by Shari J. Ryan
* * *
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
* * *
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Edited by: Lisa Brown
Cover Design and Formatting: MadHat Books
Lisa, Linda, & Julie
My books would be nothing without you.
Your friendship and support mean the world to me.
Never leave me. EVER!
xoxo
Prologue
SCARLETT
Ten Years Ago
There are days in my life when I wonder how I got to exactly where I am. It’s not like when I’ve been zoned out while driving for a half hour and can’t figure out how I’m still alive; it’s more curiosity about what steps I skipped that landed me in certain situations where I don’t want to be. I’ve been told time and time again that if I do things the right way and don’t take shortcuts, it’ll pay off. Well, I’m calling bullshit on all that.
It’s Freshman Orientation day, and I’m standing in front of the school, looking up at this daunting, aged building as if it’s going to swallow me whole at some point in the next four years. I have this unsettled feeling of unease, at least partly because I’m not sure I made the right life decision, which sucks since it’s the first life decision I’ve been able to make for myself.
“Scarlett. You okay, babe? You look lost in that head of yours again, but um, I’m going to head over to my dorm and check things out. Are you going to be cool for a bit?”
“I’m fine, Teak. I’m going to check into my dorm too,” I tell him.
Overbearing boyfriend? Check.
“I’m so glad we did this together because I honestly think we’re going to have the best four years ever.” Teak kisses me on the cheek and jogs off toward the men’s dormitory, hooting into the distance. No one else is really making noises or shouting with excitement, but I think Teak has this idea of what college is supposed to be like, and he can only visualize the fraternity part of the experience.
A Stalker-like boyfriend, who wants to share every single college experience together? Check.
The moment I’m alone, a sense of freedom overwhelms me, and for the first time in my life, I know I’m in control, even if it’s only self-control.
My story is one of a girl who was raised with a silver spoon in her mouth. However, as soon as I learned what money could do to a person, I spit the damn spoon out and refused to follow in the footsteps of a man who only sees life in dollar signs. So here I am, the only person who would likely turn down a full ride at college in exchange for freedom. If I let Dad pay, it would only be an extension plan for his ownership of me, and there was no way I could feed into that any longer. I want to start my story at the beginning—my beginning, which means rejecting what looks easy and never turning back. In other words, having a smothering boyfriend at the beginning of my story is not going to work out too well. For him. I’ll deal with that shortly, though.
I use my paper map to search for the location of my dorm, finding it on the other side of the grassy quad. At least the dorms aren’t co-ed, which is pretty much the only thing working in my favor for this fresh-start thing I’m attempting. I realize I’ve done this to myself. Despite the fact that I’m not the—I want to be near you, next to you, taste you, breathe you in, and sniff your butt—demented part of the relationship I’m in, I haven’t taken the necessary move to break free from it. I was set to take off in my own direction to college … alone, but Teak insisted on going to the same university. Almost as soon as I (stupidly) told him I was going to Hartford University, he “luckily” got in too, and here we are … together, forever at last, or whatever it is he’s chanting in his head right now.
“Scarlett!” I hear from behind. “Babe, wait up.”
I turn and readjust the bags on my shoulder. “Did you forget something?” I ask him. I’m honestly not sure I could sound less interested if I tried, yet he doesn’t seem to pick up on this. He hasn’t picked up on it since I lost interest in him when I found out he was going to this school too.
“I just want to see where you’re living. Gotta check the place out and make sure it’s good enough for my woman,” he says with a wink that looks more like a twitch. Maybe it is a twitch. It would explain some things.
The caveman-type boyfriend who beats on his chest while claiming his woman? C
heck.
“Teak, I’m fine, really, but thank you.” I keep walking, but he follows.
“Is something wrong?” he asks. “You sound kind of cold. I can warm you up, babe.”
I sound kind of cold. Do I look cold? Because it’s a hundred degrees and 80 percent humidity. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just you.
A boyfriend who keeps using pickup lines a year after being a relationship with the same woman? Check.
“Oh my God,” I say through gritted teeth. I squeeze my hands into the sides of my head. “No, I just want to find my own way right now, okay? That’s all.”
“Oh,” he says with cynical laughter. Because clearly, I sound like I’m joking, as far as he’s concerned. “Ooh, I have an idea. Later, we choose a place to meet up and then pretend like we’re strangers. It will look like a typical Freshman instalove hookup, and everyone will think we’re like the hottest couple on campus for the rest of the year. Plus, that could be sexy and fun to pretend like we’re just meeting, right?” He pulls my hair behind my back and wraps his arm around my neck. “God, you’re so cute.” He just keeps talking and talking and talking, but all I hear is blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, I can’t live without you. I need you, I want you, give me more.
The guy who feels like a relationship needs to be spiced up after only a year … at nineteen years old? Check. I can’t imagine what our future would look like in ten years.
I let out a loud huff of air. “No, Teak. I want to go find my dorm.” Is it just me, or am I just saying the same thing but in different ways, over and over?
“Well, now I really want to come. It sounds like you’re avoiding me or hiding something. What’s going on with you, Scarlett? You’re making me nervous.” I’m making him nervous because I want to locate my dorm on my own, and he feels the need to follow me rather than find his own dorm.
The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns Page 60