by Piper Reagan
“Sweet child, for such a small little thing, you have a lot of anger in you. When was the last time you got some good lovin’ from a man?”
I continue to ignore him, instead opening his statements and reports to find his credit card balances are so high, I don’t even know where the ceiling is. I click. And I click and I click and I click.
“Sway!” I can’t believe my eyes. “You spent damn near five thousand dollars at the hobby store over the last six months? What the fuck?”
“Child, relax. That’s Sway’s glitter and paint budget. I can’t spread the joy without it.”
“And what about all of these extra checks made out to Tammy Jo Green?”
“Oh, that’s the new girl. Her clientele hasn’t picked up yet and she needs some extra, so I’ve been giving her some money.”
“Which one is Tammy Jo?” He better not say what I think he’s going to say.
“She’s the one who was reading a magazine when you walked in.”
That’s it. I’ve been here five whole minutes and have already heard enough. The fun-crusher in me is now activated and in full effect. I can tell from a glance around and an overview of the books why this business is heading south fast.
One of the problems is that the man sitting across the desk from me has to be one of the most giving people I’ve ever met, and based on everything I’m seeing on this spreadsheet, I’m afraid he’s getting taken advantage of. In a way that could close the doors of this shop if we don’t get things turned around.
“Okay, Sway, I need to know.” I level him with my stare. “Do you want me to save this salon or not?”
“Of course, child, that’s why you’re here.”
“Well then, you’d better tighten that gold belt around your waist and get ready… because shit’s about to get real.”
Six
Jarrett
Red-and-blue lights flash in my rearview mirror not a minute after I pull into Hope Town.
“Shit.” I’m exhausted after driving one of the car trailers across the country, and I just need to get to a bed and die for about fifteen hours. This shit is not in my time budget, and I know I wasn’t doing a damn thing wrong.
I pull onto the shoulder, and the cop follows suit. I grab my wallet out of the center console to get my ID ready when a quick blaring sound nearly takes out my eardrums, followed by the cop’s loud speaker.
“Step out of the vehicle and put your hands above your head.”
What the fuck? I look in my side mirror, but I only see the glaring headlights as the reds and blues paint the road in a strobe of lights.
“Now.” The cop repeats like a prick, “Out of the car. Hands above your head.”
I jump out. The last thing I need is a confrontation with what is obviously an asshole of a cop. I raise my hands and stand beside my car hauler.
“You look like trouble,” the cop states and realization dawns on me. “Get your ass on the ground. Face first just for pissing me off.”
This motherfucker always makes me laugh.
Liam Beckett, local cop and a good buddy for the last couple of years, is well and truly fucking with me. I play dumb though, so I can see where he’s going with this.
“On the ground, asshole. Now.”
I stare at the bright lights and refuse to move, a shit-eatin grin on my face that I know damn well he sees.
“You’re under arrest, you prick, for not letting me know your ass was coming to Hope Town.”
I break out into a full laugh and head for the police car. He meets me in the middle, where I give him a long overdue pounding man hug.
“Been too long, Officer.”
“No shit, speed racer. I didn’t realize you were coming to town before race weekend. I figured you’d head straight for Atlanta Dragway. We’re all planning on heading down there to watch you win the Funny Car Southern Nationals title.”
“Way to put on the pressure.” I punch his shoulder, and the minute I do, a burst of melancholy hits me. I miss this place. I miss these people.
“Surprised to see you runnin’ one of the haulers. Can’t believe ol’ Marcus Dean allowed you to drive one of his babies here.” With a low whistle, he mocks my dad's tight hold on everything that has to do with his race crew.
I may be the number one driver of the team, but Dad is the crew chief and he is, and always will be, the leader, judge, and jury of our three-ring circus. The man is the best of the best, and we all know it.
“The rig has my three engines and my bike. If I don’t make it, I guess it doesn’t matter if the engines do or not. And the outfit has gotten so big, I like to keep the most important things close.”
“You headed for Caleb and Honor’s place? Shit, man, that new pad he built her is fucking sick.”
“I am.”
I’m looking forward to seeing my cousin and his wife. I would have thought when Dad and I moved to Vegas that we would have seen Caleb more often, but then he was off to England, then here, and I can’t rope the guy down. So I’ve decided to set up camp at his place until I need to be at the track. For the last two years since he’s been here, he’s been bringing the entire entourage from Hope Town to my races and we’ve all gotten to be close. I’ve been looking forward to spending some time on their soil and not just hanging with them at the track.
I yawn, just thinking about the bed waiting for me at Caleb’s place.
“Well hell, princess, I’m gonna let you head out so you can get your beauty sleep.”
I tilt my chin. “I’ll see ya this week, man. I think I may even come back after the race and stay until the next stop. I’ve got a couple weeks of free time coming up.”
“We’d love that, man. Now get your ass out of here. I’ll let you off with a warning.” He winks.
I hop in the hauler and finish the drive to Caleb’s after I send him a quick text to let him know I’m almost there. When I pull up, he’s waiting by the road. The place my family would come to visit his during the summers is gone—nothing left but grass that showcases the lake. He’s on the other side of the road, waving me down the drive that runs beside a house that looks like nothing but glass. I turn slowly and he directs me to a small barn way in the back, where the door is already pulled up. I park inside and hop out.
“Took ya long enough, Miss Daisy.” He raises an eyebrow.
Worst thing about being a professional drag car racer? The speed jokes. I’m either going too fast or moving like a turtle. Depends who’s dishin’.
Too damn tired to bite, I get to the point. “Construction on the interstate almost did me in. Then getting pulled over by Officer Beckett slowed my shit down too.”
“Beckett.” He tilts his head back in laughter. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”
“So, hey cuz, nice to see you. Please tell me your wife is in bed so I can go straight to mine.”
He continues to laugh, but then shows me some pity. “Yeah, she’s sleeping, so keep it quiet. And ah… if you wake up with a cat sprawled across you face, just roll with it. That shit is normal.”
What the fuck?
***
The smell of food beckons me from sleep. Or am I still dreaming? The loft I live in on the Vegas Strip, or the RV I take on the road, sure as hell never smells like this. I grab my jeans from the floor and tug them on, then I hit the bathroom as fast as I can before practically running down the stairs. Each step takes me closer and closer to the heavenly smell.
I sneak up behind Honor, where she’s tucked in at the kitchen sink. Thankfully, her long blond hair is pulled up, so I can whisper in her ear. “Honey, I’m home—ow! Shit!” I rub my chin where she just head-butted me.
“Jarrett! Oh my God! I’m sorry. Are you okay? You can’t sneak up on me like that.” She pulls my hand from my chin and looks at the damage, then she rubs it with her thumb. “You big goofball. Don’t do that!” She wraps me up in the sweetest hug and I follow suit, so glad to see her.
“Cuz or no cuz, get your damn h
ands off my wife.” Caleb walks in, covered in sweat from his workout. “And put a fucking shirt on, asshole.”
I let go of Honor and can’t help but fuck with him. “Hey, if she likes what she sees?” I rub my hands up and down my chest to drive the point home.
He shakes his head and makes his way to the coffee pot. It’s funny that he would even give a shit. He’s a UFL fighter, for Christ’s sake. His muscles grow muscles. And even though I have to stay strong in order to handle my car, I doubt he has to worry about me stealing Honor’s attention.
After giving his wife an inappropriate-for-company-present kiss, Caleb sits down across from me and hands me a cup of coffee. “I know anything goes in your sport, but are you growing a Bro Flow or some shit?” He looks at me with a little bit of disgust, I think. “And what the hell is up with your damn beard? You look like a hipster made a love child with a yeti.” He laughs at his own joke.
I run my hand over my seriously shaggy blond hair. I know I look like dog shit at the moment. “Hell no, I just haven’t had time to get a haircut. And my beard…” I scratch the once-trendy-now-burly coarse hair and laugh. I really need to spend thirty minutes at the barber and get my shit back in check. I observe Caleb’s well-groomed head. “Point me in the right direction, cuz.”
Caleb’s face lights up, and he and Honor share a look that has me narrowing my eyes. “Want me to set you up an appointment? I’d be happy to take you there myself.”
I’m not sure what these two are up to, but either way, I need a damn haircut. “Hook it up, bro.”
Seven
Gineva
I stayed up most of the night, raking through Sway’s financial reports, then I tucked myself back in his office this morning to finish up the new plan. He’s not going to love it, but it needs to happen. I’m a little baffled by where all the extra money is going. After Sway was paid for his reality show Sway All The Way, he had a huge influx that I think hid the fact that the money coming in wasn’t covering the bills. It’s going to take some more investigating to figure out why that is, but first thing first. I need to figure out how to make Sway enforce the rules.
“Oh, Gin, sweet child. Are you working already?” He walks in, decked out in heels that make his normally short frame remarkably taller than mine.
My mom, sister, and I are all of about five foot nothing and familiar with every “pint size” joke in the book. So when even Sway towers over me, I feel that much smaller.
He walks to the closet and pulls out a long blond wig, which he puts on. He fishtails it around his shoulder, then kisses the air.
“What the hell are you busting out the wig for?” I know this is his special occasion one.
“Oh, my little drink of Gin, a celebrity’s coming.” He spins around, quickly searching through every drawer in his desk, every shelf and cubby he comes across. “I need to be ready when he comes. Sway needs to be ready.” His high pitch hurts my ears and I’m curious as to who this “celebrity” is. “Now where’re my glitter bombs? I need them ASAP. I know they’re in here somewhere.” He starts slamming the drawers again.
“About the glitter…” I almost forgot about laying out the budget. “We need to talk about your spending…”
“Later, sweet girl. Sway needs to be ready.” He rushes out in a fit of giggles.
I should chase him and push the issue, but instead, I bury my head in the computer. Time to gear up for the fact that we need to have this conversation sooner rather than later.
Twenty minutes after he blew out of the office, the sound of his squeals in the main salon is more than my eardrums can handle. “Right over here, Mr. VIP, you sit right in Sway’s chair. I’m going to make you the yummiest thing since sex on the beach.”
I can’t help it—I need to peek out and see who this is. I take a quick glance and see a well-built man with light brown hair mussed on top. His beautiful eyes are raised in an amused expression, and I wonder if he’s some sort of bodyguard or friend to the celebrity. I try to get a look, but Sway is blocking my view of the man who just sat in his chair. Oh well, I’ll ask one of the girls later.
I try to focus on my work, but Sway’s whooping and hollering is distracting. Once everything quiets down a bit, I decide all is clear and go hunt for him so we can review these files. I hit the salon floor and see the bodyguard/friend is still here.
Then, as if it’s happening in slow motion, my eyes meet his. A random celebrity? No. That would have kept my life simple. What my eyes meet are the bluest set I’ve ever seen. Eyes that I know up close are fanned in dark lashes. Lashes that are way too dark to match his still-blond hair.
It all happens at the same time. My heart stops beating. Pain radiates down my arm at the sight of him after all these years. Then right before my foot hits a patch of spilled glitter, I hear it.
“Gineva.” It’s a breath, a whisper. And it’s the last thing I remember.
Eight
Jarrett
Now I see why my dear cousin and his obviously evil wife thought it would be funny to bring me here. It’s like a circus up in this joint and no one seems to give a damn. Though as I look in the mirror, I will admit Sway can fucking cut some hair. So I’m gonna let the glitter shower go and just take my new kick-ass retro fade and perfectly groomed beard and hit the road before I’m sexually assaulted.
No sooner do I get out of the chair and turn around than my world flips upside down. I think I sensed her before I saw her. She’s the tiniest fucking thing, but her personality alone fills a room.
Her mane of almost-black hair is as thick and long as I remember, her lips full and her nose just a button. And the second her ever-changing hazel eyes find mine, only one word rolls off my tongue.
“Gineva.” My Gin… MY Gin… The one that got away. The one I let slip through my fingers.
No… the one who pushed me away.
Before my brain can re-work out who’s to blame, she’s falling. Slipping on a patch of glitter and hitting her head on the reception desk on the way down.
I think I’m at her side the same second she hits the floor, almost able to catch her but not fast enough. Shit! She’s out cold. I grab both sides of her face and rub her cheekbones to see if she’ll wake up. The instant I make contact with her warm skin, the surge that runs up my arm is just as strong as the first time I had my hands on her. Jesus, I’ve missed this girl.
Why the hell have I stayed away? Why did I let my pride keep me from her?
Because she’s ashamed of you. Used you.
I tell the voice in my head to fuck off, and get back to the present. “Gin, baby, wake up. Can you hear me?”
Sway is going apeshit in the background, and I need him to chill the fuck out for a second. I nod to Caleb, and he works on getting Sway under control while I try to wake my girl.
My girl?
Confused by the myriad of feelings that are coming from every direction, I try to focus on the here and now. I kiss her forehead and let my lips linger a little too long, then I try to wake her again, never pulling my lips completely from her skin. “Gin. Honey, please. Wake up. I need to know you’re okay.”
“Mmmm.” A smile spreads across her face, and I exhale the breath I was holding. “Juice?”
That name coming from her lips has my head racing back in time. Back to our youth. When she was my Gin, and I was her Juice. I can’t help but smile at the memory of the high school version of us.
“That’s right, it’s me. It’s Juice. You gonna wake up and see me now?”
Her face scrunches up in a bitter scowl, then smoothes back out. “Don’t leave me again. Please… Don’t—”
She goes still on the floor, and I fucking panic. I scoop her up in my arms and rush for the door. She still barely weighs a buck. I rush to Caleb’s truck with him hot on my heels, and I hop in the back seat, ignoring everyone yelling at me to call an ambulance.
Fuck that… I’m not letting go of her.
“Gin, baby, come on, I need you to
wake up.” I look at Caleb in the rearview mirror. “Why the fuck isn’t she waking up!”
“Jarrett…who the hell is this girl? You obviously know her from somewhere. And why are you flipping out?” Caleb throws the truck in reverse and heads for the road.
“It’s Gineva! My Gin, from high school.”
“Christ.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, understanding evident in his expression. “She’ll be all right, man. She just got her bell rung. Keep talking to her.”
“Got her bell fuckin’ rung? Are you fucking kidding me right now! She’s a slip of a woman. She doesn’t have the fucking bolder for a head that keeps you from drinking your meals through a goddamn straw.” I’m in full panic mode.
Caleb remains calm despite my verbal abuse. “Easy, killer. Just keep talking to her.”
“Juice.” She moans. “My head hurts.”
“I know, baby. Keep talking to me, okay? I’m right here.” I can’t take my lips from her forehead as I cradle her to my chest.
The car comes to a stop and I look up to see Caleb has pulled into an Urgent Care Center. “What the fuck, man, we need a full medical staff! Her brain could be internally bleeding all over the place.”
He doesn’t seem fazed as he looks at us over the back of his seat. “Chill out, she’s gonna be fine. Give her a second and we’ll take her in.”
Easy for him to say. He didn’t just run into the only woman he’s ever loved after nine fucking years only to have her fall and sit at death's door.
“I’ve missed you, Juice.” Her lids stay closed, but I see the rapid movement of her eyes behind them. She reaches out, her hand seeking me.
When she finally makes purchase, her brows pull together again and my silent prayers are answered when she opens those hazel eyes. The light streaming in through the windows makes them look closer to green as she studies my face. The moment when she realizes it’s me is obvious. Then a split second later, she bolts out of my arms, her hand going to her head as she takes in her surroundings. My stomach drops to my feet when she jerks her body to the other side of the truck.