Uncut (Unexpected Book 4)

by Burgoa, Claudia

  I look up to find that his penetrating glare has not let up. “I actually have a gig for you if you’re interested.” He pulls a business card out of his back pocket and hands it to me. Then he places a finger on my lips just before turning his attention to the new band.

  The loud guitar and screeches of Dreadful Souls boom from the speakers. I’m not a heavy metal kind of girl. That fact makes me an unreliable source to dictate if they’re a good band or not.

  “So, when are we going out on a date?” Matthew breaks his focus when the band finishes the song. He doesn’t bother listening to what's next. I crook a brow angling my head toward the small stage. “Oh, they know one of us is here and think that playing one of my father’s songs will add points. Don’t change the subject. Date. When will you do me the honor to go for some fancy dinner and maybe a movie?”

  I squint, pretending to think about it, then lean closer to softly deliver my answer. “When you start dating, Matt.”

  Matthew is a fuck-’em-and-leave-’em kind of man. Like his brother used to be. Many of our customers can attest to that fact. He gets rave reviews too, if the bar chatter is anything to go off.

  “Fuck, you got me there, Butterfly.” His irresistible smile fades for a few seconds and returns with full strength after sipping his beer. “But when I do, you’ll be my first, right?” His voice softens and he seals that question with a wink.

  Yes?

  “Checking the pond to see what you’re fishing for tonight, Decker?” Reed appears from the back room, shakes hands with Matthew, and leans on the bar to chat with him. “Stay away from T. You know what’ll happen to your balls if you try to sweet-talk her.”

  I chuckle, shake my head, and move to the other side of the bar. I love Reed. He’s amazing with me. No, with all his employees. The man protects me like a father, and cares. A foreign concept for me, but I like the feeling he creates. I let them talk while I walk around the bar picking up empty glasses, refilling, or taking new orders. Finishing my round, I look around to decide on taking my break or not. That’s when I catch Matthew’s eyes on me.

  For one breath I wonder what would happen if I kiss him, if I touch him, if I let myself take that step. My hand trembles, as the consequences of making that one mistake would cost me in the end. I smile politely at him, signal Reed, and head to the break room to chew a piece of gum and clear my mind.

  “This room is too small.” Matthew walks behind me. I frown at him and point at the sign that reads Employees Only. “It’s almost closing time. Reed allowed me to join you in here to continue catching up with you. What’s new?”

  “Nothing, really.”

  “So, are you dating yet?” I shake my head, giving him yet another round of rolling eyes. Why did I confide in him? “Zero sex, huh? I’m concerned about your wellbeing. Sex is important for one’s health.”

  “Is that what keeps you looking so young?” He releases a loud laugh that makes my entire body vibrate. “I bet you’re onto booty call number fifty-four plus.” I mock him.

  “I cut ties with my last booty call . . . after she screamed at me, “Eight fucking months and you can’t stay longer than a couple of orgasms. What am I to you?””

  My eyes widen. “You responded to that?” I wait for an answer, hoping he is smarter than the average guy.

  “No. I feared she might reach some object and projectile it toward me.” He flinches and I suppress the laugh of this big hunk being afraid of anyone busting his balls. “You should be proud, I no longer believe in having booty calls. I never understood why none of them could stick to the rules.”

  “Because sex isn't just sex to everyone.” I lean over the table, getting up close to him. “For some, it's a way to give themselves to the other person. The only-physical-shit line you draw can become blurry for your . . . sex partner. That's why booty calls are a bad idea. One always falls.”

  “Is that why you haven't had sex?” His intense eyes hold my gaze. Is he trying to read me, understand me? “Waiting for an old flame, or the right one?”

  “Yes,” let’s go with that, “waiting to find the right one is what keeps me waiting.”

  Sex is complicated. Many use sex to obtain shit. Others do it to feel something special that will disappear the moment you finish fucking. Finding someone . . . it’s at the bottom of my to-do list. Right after finding a nice retirement home—at the age of ninety.

  “Tell me more about that crazy life of yours, Decker.”

  His superficial problems are fun to listen to, but they are the prologue to what really is happening with him. School—he graduated. His family—is growing. Matt is also taking charge of one of the family businesses. He continues creating new ventures. He has added a lot to his load since the last time we saw each other, like being in charge of Transcending, his father’s production company. I wish I could be that cool and tell him everything about me, but I can’t. At a young age I was taught to pretend. Later I had to use that one skill to survive. Nonetheless, pretending to be someone else implies many things. Rule number one is keeping everyone at arm’s length. One slip and they might find out who I really am. By the end of my old life, not many liked me—I hated myself. Matt hating me isn’t something I look forward to happening in the near future.

  “T,” Reed comes into the room as Matthew shows me pictures of Gracie, his niece, “time to head to your place. We’re closing.” He places an envelope on top of the table. “Take your tips and call me as soon as you lock up.”

  My phone’s clock reads three in the morning. Uh-oh, I’m in trouble. I didn’t help the crew, and I have a lot of work to do at home. Without giving it a second thought, I spring out of my seat, kiss Reed’s cheek and then wave at Matthew. “It was great seeing you, Matt.”

  “Same, Butterfly. I’ll try to swing by more often.” I smile at him and leave, wishing we could talk just for a little longer.

  Ironic that Matt Decker is one of the few people who makes me feel normal—human.

  The music has died. It's replaced by the sound of chairs being dragged through the floor and voices drifting away. A warning that the night has ended and the place is closing down. My time with the pretty bartender is over. It doesn't take long for Reed to send her home. I gaze at the sway of her hips as she waltzes out of the room followed by one of the bouncers. Her long legs wrapped in a pair of sexy skinny jeans.

  There goes my distraction for the night—the week. Tomorrow is back to work. That’s not my thing, sitting behind a desk, but I have to do it. I rather be in a conference room brainstorming with the guys. The best part of my job is when I create new shows, produce them, and direct them. Instead, I have to focus on making admin decisions like budgets, hiring contractors, and all that shit. Adding to the load, I’ve been also checking on Decker Records.

  I wish I could stay here with Thea when she doesn't have much to do and can chat. Thea is great at that talking shit, and I need a friend. My sister is busy with her baby, Jacob is gone, and Tristan is busy—avoiding me? I should find more time to swing by the Silver Moon, that’s my best bet.

  “Eyes off the girl, Decker.” Reed pats my shoulder using that fatherly voice. He's too protective of his employees. “How's the family?”

  “Parents are doing well, Jacob married, and the sister has a sweet little baby girl.” I unlock my phone to show him the latest pictures of Gracie.

  “That's Mason Bradley's baby, right?” I nod. “He showed a few pics of her the other day when he came to check on the security system. Cute baby. Your family is growing, and now you’re opening that nightclub. A shitty move; you're going to affect businesses like mine.”

  Jacob came up with the idea of opening a place big enough to use it as a venue for concerts. When it isn't, the building will house three different themed clubs, plus we’ll host an open mic session every week. A way for him to find our rising stars and for our own band to have a home to play when we feel like it.

  “It's far away from here. A different concept,
and your regular crowd is another kind of animal,” I say looking around the minimalist break room.

  “Maybe, but times change, Decker.” He walks toward the same back door where T disappeared earlier and holds the handle. “This bar needs a facelift. Maybe you guys are pushing me to retire sooner than I thought. We’ll see.” He shrugs and opens the door. “Time for you to leave, kid.”

  “Don't even think about selling, Reed, but if you retire, I'll buy this shithole from you.” I hug him before heading to my truck.

  The cold air hits me as I walk out of the Silver Moon. At this time of the night I do miss Cali. Summer nights are warm, unlike Seattle where you’re lucky if it’s not raining. Well, I guess this week I’ll be skipping the sun and enjoying the gloom-and-doom weather of the Northwest Coast. I take another glance at the Silver Moon and realize that Reed is right. The building needs some TLC. New signage is in order, and maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep the place within the Decker family. But I know nothing about owning a bar. The idea sparks just as I’m about to climb into my car. Tristan.

  “Decker?” He answers on the first ring. “A little late for calls. I thought we agreed, no more benefits. Unless you’re drunk and want me to pick you up.”

  “That’s all you, my friend. Are you . . . drunk?” I laugh to lighten the question, but worry because he does like to consume crazy amounts of alcohol.

  “No, I’m not, Matt.” His loud exhale is a hint that I’m annoying him. “Let’s cut to the chase. How can I help you? I have shit to do tomorrow morning.”

  “Dude, I'm calling because I might have a business proposition for you.”

  In the past, Tristan has acquired and refurbished bars and nightclubs. We can do this together. He’s a sure bet as all of his places are successful. I'd like for the Silver Moon to rise like a phoenix instead of going down after Reed retires. The place is an institution and helped Chris, one of my fathers, start his new stage into the music business after his band broke up.

  “Are you in California?” he questions. There's no background noise and I'm guessing he's at home. “We can meet for a late dinner, or an early breakfast if you want.”

  “No. I'm staying in Seattle this week. Long, boring shit I won't get into.” I start my truck, pull out of my parking space and decide to crash at my sister’s place. The apartment isn’t the same without Tristan there. “There's a bar that is run down but in a good location. The owner is a family friend and he might sell the joint. We can buy it, be partners.”

  “I see,” he says, sounding bored. That man needs a chill pill. After several breaths he finally speaks. “No. I don't like partnerships, Matt.”

  “You're a pain in the ass.” He has trust issues. When my brother tried to bring him on board of our venue it took a lot to convince him to be a part of it. Including a bunch of fucking clauses and only wanting to be Jacob’s partner. He pushed AJ and me out of the negotiations. “You have to check out the joint. It’s an institution. Look, Reed hasn’t put it up for sale, yet. Next time we’re both in Seattle I’ll bring you over. If you’re not convinced, you can tell me to fuck off.”

  “Look up the meaning of the word no, Matt. It's time for me to call it a night,” he growls.

  “You’re missing out on such a great opportunity, Trist.”

  He growls with the nickname, and I can’t help but laugh. “As much as I miss you, I have to go. Good night, Decker.”

  “Night, dream of me.” I hang up before he explodes or I tell him that I miss him too.

  “Rise and shine,” an annoying voice calls out.

  And without any warning, a flare of sunshine hits me all at once.

  “Go away, Ainsley Janine.” I pull the blankets over my head, regretting yesterday’s decision to come and crash at her house. “It’s too early.”

  “No. It’s ten in the morning,” she adds with her chirpy morning voice. “You said something about having shit to do. A meeting or something.” The covers are ripped from my grasp and her eyes meet mine. “Yes, I remember. Work. I think that’s what the peasants call it.”

  “These accommodations are terrible.” I scratch my head. “There’s no breakfast in bed and the help is way too noisy.”

  “If you wanted me to feed you, you’d have to be downstairs before eight.” She looks at her bare wrists, pretending to read the time, and shakes her head. “Past feeding time, sorry. You can use those housekeeping skills and do it yourself. Now wake up.”

  AJ reaches for something on the nightstand. A mug. She starts moving it closer to where I lay down and I jump up from the bed before she pours that shit on me.

  “What?” She pulls her best innocent voice. “I’m handing you a cup of coffee.” The sweet smile doesn’t fool me.

  I snatch the mug, take a few sips, and narrow my gaze. “You’re evil.” She bats her eyelashes at me, gifting me that innocent smile I can't be upset at. “You sure you can’t whip one of those fancy omelets for your favorite brother?”

  “My favorite brother is out of town,” she lies. AJ loves us both, but she babies me more than she does Jacob. “Tell me why you came to crash so late at night and maybe I’ll feed you.”

  Information. That’s AJ’s weakness. Give her information-knowledge and she’ll do anything.

  “I’m your favorite.” I put on my T-shirt and leave on the sweats Bradley lent me last night. “I didn’t want to go home. It’s not the same without Jacob. Plus I helped with the three o’clock feeding.”

  “You did?” She arches a perfectly delineated eyebrow. “What was Mase doing?”

  “Well, I changed her diaper and all that shit while he got the baby bottle ready. Something about the temperature and shit I wouldn't get right.”

  AJ nods a couple times as if she understands and then spins around walking toward the door.

  “Come on, Matthew. Let’s get you breakfast. I guess you worked for it.”

  “Since we’re in such a great mood, can I also borrow your computer to do some of that . . . work?”

  “Is that how you go to work at the office? I doubt the suits would approve,” she huffs, spinning her body around and giving me that inquisitive gaze. “When are you going back to Lalaland?”

  “Next week. I decided to change my schedule and travel every other week. Unless the people at Transcending Productions start bitching about my absence. It all depends.” I trail off, not wanting to add that the suits might take the opportunity to kick me out of the company and take over.

  “Depends,” she says with a deflated body. “I don’t like that word.”

  I don’t like it either. If I could change things, I’d move the entire company to Seattle—or Vancouver. My leverage to skip my usual trip is that I have to keep an eye on everybody’s business.

  “For the next three months you’ll see me around more. There’s Jacob’s shit to take care of, and you need a hand too.” Mason brought to my attention that my sister is starting to overwork. AJ twists her mouth, but before I let her speak and give me the speech that she’s invincible, I interrupt her. “You have that blood sugar shit to figure out, AJ, and a kid to care for. My princess needs her mama, so you need to step back and take it easy.”

  AJ has type 1 diabetes. She knew how to control her sugar levels until she got pregnant. Now it’s all about recovering while nurturing her baby daughter.

  “You need a real life, Matthew. Your own little family,” she says, giving me a hug, and not discussing my little hiccup with Tristan. Thank God she listened this time, as I would hate to argue about my sex life with her. “Get rid of that emotional constipation, and stop trying to dip that spoon into so many ice creams. Focus on one thing. But thank you for taking care of me. I love you so much for that.”

  “Ice creams? I don’t eat ice cream. That’s your sister-in-law, the one who would shoot her own husband for a pint of rocky road.”

  “No, but she’ll do it for an entire truck of Ben and Jerry’s.” She laughs, pulls me out of the room and takes
me to the kitchen. It's good to have someone to pamper me sometimes. No one is better than my sister for that shit. “Meanwhile we can talk about organizing your life. Help you settle down.”

  Oh please, no. I'm going to become her new fucking project. Damn it.

  I'm usually a morning person, but shit, today I can't. This is already a shitty Monday. I immediately pull my bracelet to shut myself up. Bad energies are what make my day shitty. That and the big headache I have today. Going to bed at three in the morning wasn’t a great idea. Stupid Matthew Decker and his oh-so-awesome conversational skills. I let the shit go and take a breather.

  Good Karma, positive thoughts. I clear my head from negative shit and decide to continue with my routine. I start by counting yesterday’s tips. My lips pull when I find four hundred-dollar bills, and a napkin.

  Butterfly, email me. I’d rather have you working for me than at the bar. M.

  At the bottom is his email address.

  I place one of the hundred-dollar bills inside the savings jar, then reach into my purse and place the rest in my wallet. Seventy dollars, plus his four hundred in tips isn’t bad for a slow night. Maybe I’ll email Matt later and find out what he’s offering. I’m attracted to him; I’m a woman that hasn’t had sex in eons, but for me sex is a three-letter word that implies much more than the act of copulating. I rather not risk a five-minute orgasm for . . . Yeah, I shouldn’t go there.

  For now it doesn't matter, I have shit to do. Like heading to the bank to deposit my check and tips. Then head down to St. Peter & Paul, a small catholic church where I volunteer my time to counsel foster children. It’s a program run by the deacon’s wife where we help the children adapt into their new or temporary homes. The hours help me with the counseling license I’m working toward. Only seventy-five more hours of supervised experience, my test, and I can get the state certification. Then I can search for a real job as a therapist.