by Sara Mack
Cardinal
By SARA MACK
Cardinal
Copyright © 2015 Sara Mack
All Rights Reserved
First Kindle Edition: 2015
Cover art by Cover to Cover Designs
Photograph by Mandy Hollis of MH Photography
Edited by Red Ribbon Editing Services
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products listed in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Dedicated to
All readers who ask for more
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Epilogue ~ One Year Later
Acknowledgements
Dean McCarthy and the Union ~ Set List
About the Author
Chapter One
Do you know what I hate?
Having the rug pulled out from under me.
I also hate the sinking feeling my stomach gets when something bad happens. I hate when panic sets in, and the back of my neck breaks out in a cold sweat. I hate the feeling I might throw up at any minute, and I hate that I always fall for lies.
Fuck you, Ross. I mean, Derek.
Reaching for one of the earrings he gave me, I rip it out of my ear. “Thanks a lot asshole!” I throw it at him and it bounces off his chest. I grab the other earring and do the same. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” I get in his face. “Why the fake name? Were you worried you’d get caught? Karma sure is a funny bitch.”
“I don’t have time for you right now,” my married boyfriend snaps.
“Perfect!” I yell. “Because I don’t have any more time for you.” I start to walk away, then stop. “I suggest you leave before the Dayton brothers kick your ass.” My ex, Kyle, and his brother, Kevin, look ready for a fight.
I almost make it to the other side of the room before I hear a fist connect with a jaw. Staring straight ahead, I keep walking and try to calm my racing pulse. When I make it to the dance floor, I pick up my guitar; before all hell broke loose, Kyle and I had just finished playing a song for Kevin’s wedding. I send a silent message to my friends: Sorry about the additional entertainment, guys.
After I put my acoustic back in its case, I decide leaving now would be my best option. I feel tears coming on, and I don’t get those often. Keeping my head down, I make a beeline for the door. Unfortunately, Kevin is on his way back from disposing of Derek, and he intercepts me. He places a hand on each of my shoulders to stop me from walking.
“Jen.” He tries to catch my eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I say. “I don’t want your night ruined any more than it has been.”
“C’mon.” He squeezes my shoulders. “My night isn’t ruined. Yours shouldn’t be either; that guy’s a prick. You deserve better.”
I force a smile. I’ve been friends with Kevin for the last five years, after I accidentally rear-ended his car when mine slid on ice. “Don’t try to sugarcoat it. My romantic life is in the toilet.” He should know. He set me up with his brother, Kyle, and that relationship lasted three years before it tanked.
Kevin grimaces. “You don’t have to leave.”
“I know, but I need to.”
Just then, Kyle and Addison walk up to us. My eyes bounce from Kyle’s swollen cheek to Addison’s pale complexion. She must be traumatized because Kyle got hit and her husband’s a bigger dick than she thought. “I don’t know what to say,” I tell her. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.” She looks sympathetic. “He gave you his middle name. Even if he was honest, what were the odds of your Derek being the same as mine?”
I feel the need to tell her everything I know. Maybe it’s to assuage my own guilt; I’m not sure. “We met on New Year’s Eve, but he didn’t call for months,” I say. “We’ve been seeing each other since the end of February.”
“You don’t have to explain.” Addison steps forward. “My marriage was hurting well before New Year’s Eve.”
“Still,” I sigh. “I feel awful. I just … I just want to go home.”
After I say goodbye, I make it outside into the cool night air. You would think the month of May would be warmer, but it’s still spring in Michigan. Shivering, I quickly find my car, put my guitar in the trunk, and then slam the door shut. It’s always good to take out your aggressions on inanimate objects. They can’t hit back.
During the drive home I try to bury my thoughts, but my emotions won’t have it. Tears escape the corners of my eyes and they make the white traffic lines blurry. How is it I have the most shittastic luck when it comes to men? Is there a sign on my forehead I can’t see? It must say “Assholes Apply Here. Employment guaranteed.” Thankfully P!nk comes on the radio and distracts me. I turn up the volume and shout along to “Blow Me (One Last Kiss)”. It’s cathartic.
When I reach my exit, I pull off the expressway and concentrate on driving through the sleepy little town I’ve lived in my entire life. When I park in front of my apartment building, I turn off the ignition and wipe beneath my eyes. No one should be around to see my mascara-streaked face, but I still don’t want to look like Alice Cooper. Even if one of my neighbors did question me, I doubt they would actually care. They’d just think I’m the girl from D3 who always stays out too late. Judging by some of the looks I get, my neighbors think I party. My reality is much more tame. I tend bar for a living and work late hours. Sue me, nosey people.
Once I make my way inside, I kick off my heels, toss my purse on the table, and head straight for the bathroom. Turning the water on full blast, I take off the blue party dress I bought especially for the wedding tonight. I hang it on the back of the door and run my fingers over the fabric. Will I ever wear it again? If I do, it will only remind me of Douchebag Derek and the fact that I slept with a married man.
After a moment, I decide yes. Even though my heart stings, I, Jen Elliott, will wear this dress again. Maybe not anytime soon.
But I will.
Stepping into the shower, the hot water pulls the curls from my hair and a few angry tears from my eyes. It turns my skin pink, and I stand under it long enough to wrinkle my fingers and toes. When the water runs cold, I get out and wrap myself in a towel. What I wouldn’t give to start over.
I’m not talking about the shower. I’m talking about going back in time and correcting a few
things. I run my hand over the steam-covered mirror and stare at my foggy reflection. Apparently, I’m destined to be single bartender for the rest of my life. There are worse fates.
Right?
My destiny doesn’t feel too glamorous, not that it ever did. Sighing, I dry my hair and then find my bed. I slide beneath the sheets and hug a pillow to my chest. I have to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.
I have to forget Derek tomorrow.
I have to pick myself up and start over again … tomorrow.
Chapter Two
When I pull into work the next day, my boss is outside unlocking the door. Frowning, I park in my usual spot and cut the engine. I’ve worked at Jay’s Sports Bar for four years, and this is the first time my boss has been late. Since she owns the restaurant, Norma always arrives an hour earlier than the rest of us to get her paperwork done.
“Hey,” I call to her when I step out of my car. “Everything okay?”
Startled, Norma drops her keys and a few papers. She turns around and holds one hand to her chest. “Oh, Jen. You scared me.”
Confused, I walk toward her. “Didn’t you hear me pull in?”
All five feet of my sixty-year-old boss looks worn and frazzled as she bends down to pick up what she dropped. “I guess my mind isn’t where it’s supposed to be.”
I smile and crouch down to help her. “Well, it is Sunday. We should be home relaxing.” I pull a few papers into a pile and can’t help but notice they’re all the same. My eyes catch a few words printed on each piece and my stomach starts to knot. Swallowing, I ask, “What’s going on?”
Norma looks defeated as takes the papers from my hands. “Jay’s is closing,” she says, her voice barely audible. “Leon is sick. Real sick.”
I blink a few times. Leon Jay, Norma’s husband, has been battling emphysema for as long as I can remember. “I thought he was feeling better,” I say.
“He was. Now …” Her voice fades. “He’s not.”
My heart goes out to her. I know how much she loves her husband and his condition has been tough on both of them, especially since she’s still working.
“We’re running out of money,” she says as we both stand. “We’ve had some unexpected medical bills; things our insurance won’t cover.” Norma hands one of the letters back to me so I can read it. “A few months ago, Applebee’s expressed interest in opening a restaurant in the area. They offered to buy us out.” She hesitates. “We agreed.”
My eyes scan the letter, but I can’t concentrate. “When is this happening?”
“It was supposed to happen at the end of the year.”
“But?”
“We officially close tomorrow.”
Questions bounce around my brain. “Why so soon?”
“More time is needed for renovations,” she explains. “This is an old building, and it needs some repairs.”
The words “first opportunity to apply” jump off the paper at me, and my shoulders sag. “None of us have jobs, do we?”
Norma closes her eyes. Somehow, when she opens them again, she looks years older. “They said our staff will have the first chance to apply, but you’re right. Employment isn’t guaranteed.”
Now my stomach truly sinks. I need to start job hunting. I glance down at my feet, at the invisible rug that’s being pulled from under me for the second time in a matter of hours. Tension fills my body and Norma must notice, because she tries to ease it.
“You know you’re like family to me,” she says with a sad voice. “It was a hard decision to sell this place, let alone share the news before I was ready. You need to know I’m going to pay you for the next six months, through the date we were supposed to close. It’s the least I can do.”
I give my boss a resigned smile. While her gesture is nice, the $7.40 I make an hour is nothing without tips.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” Norma looks pained. “I’ve been dreading this day.”
Even though I’m the furthest thing from happy, I can’t be mad at Norma. I understand why she made the decision she did; family comes first. I set my hand on her arm to try and comfort her. “It’s okay. Your husband is the most important thing.”
She pats my hand.
A car door slams behind me and I realize my coworkers are starting to arrive. I look at the letter, then back to my boss. “Am I free to go?” I don’t think I want to relive this conversation.
“Sure,” she says and squeezes my fingers. “If you need a letter of recommendation, please let me know.”
I nod and, defeated, turn and head back to my car. First Derek, now my job. What else can go wrong?
~~~~
Later that evening, after I spent the day driving around to find job applications, I stop at Starbucks for comfort food. I figure I deserve it after the last two days. Armed with a caramel Frappuccino and a double chocolate chunk brownie, I pull up to my apartment building only to discover I can’t enter the parking lot. Two police cars and three fire trucks block the entrance.
You have got to be kidding me.
The flashing lights are blinding as I drive by. I park down the road and get out of the car to walk home. As I get closer, I can smell smoke. There was a fire? I hope no one got hurt. Thoughts begin to swirl in my mind: I straightened my hair this morning. Did I turn off the flat iron? What if I caused this? I was a little distracted because I woke up to a Derek/Ross text:
I want to see you.
Fat chance, asshole.
I reach a group of people huddled on the sidewalk wearing sweats and pajamas. “What happened?” I ask.
“Fire.” An older woman I’ve seen in the laundry room turns around. “It started a few hours ago over on the end.” She points. “Building D.”
Figures. It’s my building. At least I’m not responsible; my unit is in the middle.
“Did they put it out?”
“Yes, but rumor has it the indoor sprinkler system caused more damage than the actual fire.” She looks around the group. “Before we evacuated, our units were soaked.”
My mouth falls open. “So everything is wet?”
“Likely so.”
Oh no. The last thing I can afford right now is to replace my things.
Overwhelmed, I step away from the group and sit down on the curb. I hold my head in my hands and stare at the pavement. My life has gone from normal to insane so fast I may have set a Guinness Record. I must have royally pissed off the universe, although I don’t know how. My breathing becomes erratic as I realize everything I love is converging on ruin.
“Miss?”
I look up to find a fireman standing beside me.
“Do you live here?”
I nod while I consider asking him to save me from my life. He’s a hero. That’s what they do.
He crouches down to my level. “Chief says all residents are clear to go inside and get what they need for the night. Your landlord has opened the clubhouse as a temporary shelter.”
I squint. “How long will it be until we can stay in our apartments?”
“Things are pretty messed up.” He frowns. “I guess it depends on how fast the building gets cleaned and inspected.”
That’s not good news. Slowly, I stand. The firefighter helps by steadying my elbow. “Thanks,” I say.
“Do you need any other help?”
I let out a sarcastic snort. “You have no idea.”
He chuckles, then steps away. “My name is Peyton, if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Peyton.”
He winks at me and I notice his eyes. They’re a stunning shade of blue. As he turns and walks over to another group of people, my frazzled mind does the most inappropriate thing possible: it wonders what he looks like under all that gear.
Really, Jen?! I chastise myself. This is not the time or the place to think about guys. Given my most recent romance, I should swear them off all together. With my luck, he probably has a wife, a girlfriend, and kids.
Just then, my ph
one rings in my bag. I reach for it and swipe the screen to answer as I walk. “Hey, Peter.”
“Hey, Little J!”
I roll my eyes at my oldest brother’s nickname for me. Actually, all my brothers call me that. After Peter, there’s Josh and then Adam. I’m the youngest and the only girl.
“Pete. I’m not a kid. Stop calling me that.”
“You will always be Little J,” he says. “Anyway, listen, I need a favor.”
“Not now,” I snap.
“What’s wrong?”
One of the fire trucks starts to pull away from the scene, and it’s loud. I cover my other ear with my free hand and talk over the noise.
“I lost my job, my boyfriend is married, and my apartment almost burned down!”
“What?!” he exclaims. “Start from the beginning.”
I catch him up to speed as I pace in front of my building. Other tenants push past me to get their things, but I’m nervous to go inside and see the damage.
“Are you serious?” Pete asks. “Where will you stay?”
“With mom and dad.” It’s not my first choice, but it beats bunking at the clubhouse.
“You should stay with me.”
I scoff. “I can’t just drive to Chicago.”
“Why not? You have no job, no house, and no man.”
I’m silent.
“Every Christmas you say you’ll visit and you never do.”
That’s true. It’s been years since I’ve been to Chicago. My brother comes home for the holidays and we see each other then. Even though I always promise to visit him, I don’t. A trip to the city would seem like a vacation. In my line of work, I don’t get paid days off.
“There’s nowhere for me to sleep,” I say.
“I have a spare room.”
“What about Juliana?”
Juliana is Pete’s permanent girlfriend. At thirty-two years old I don’t think he’ll ever get married – or grow up. My brother works as a bouncer and religiously plays Call of Duty. Jules doesn’t seem to mind, however. She’s been with him for years.
“You know she loves you,” Pete says. “Besides, I’m at her place more than mine. Come out here, Little J. Escape for a while.”