Come Friday (Bishop Family Book 8)

by Brooke St. James

  "And he thinks she wouldn't like him if she found out he had money?" I asked, still feeling confused.

  "No, quite the opposite," Luke said. "He knows she would like him."

  I shot Luke another disbelieving look from across the console, and he laughed as if he knew the whole thing was ludicrous.

  "He's been after this girl for a few years. She's a wild one, and he's trying to get her to commit. I think it's a challenge for him. She's a model. She's like five-eleven with legs for days. You've probably seen her in some ads—she did some stuff for Harrods. She's not super-famous or anything, but she is making a name for herself. She's got black hair with those big, pouty lips. Wes showed me her picture. I think she does those fashion shows where they walk the runway and stuff."

  "So, he lies to his family about being a musician, and he lies to his girlfriend about being rich," I said, summarizing. "Sounds like a really great guy."

  "You make it sound worse than it is," Luke said. "He is a great guy. He's only not telling his family because he knows how hyper supportive they are. His grandmother probably still has connections. I'm sure she could get him a record deal if she knew he was into music—if she couldn't, then his sister-in-law sure could."

  "Who's his sister-in-law?"

  "Courtney Cole."

  "The Courtney Cole?" I asked, wondering if he could possibly be referring to the ultra-famous pop star. She had been making music for a long time. I had been a fan of hers since before we ever moved to London. This story got more and more unbelievable by the minute. "The Courtney Cole?" I repeated.

  "Yes."

  "You're lying."

  "No, I'm not."

  "He's related to Courtney Cole?"

  "His brother is married to her. His girlfriend doesn't know that either. He's not telling her because he wants her to like him for who he is. He said if he can't win her over as a struggling musician, then he doesn't want to win her over at all. I think it's cool. I think he's awesome."

  "If she's his girlfriend, then he's already won her over," I said.

  "Not really," Luke said. "I don't think they're official. They've been friends for a long time, and they flirt or whatever, but I don't think she's fully committed. If she knew who he was, it would be a totally different story. She'd be all his in a heartbeat."

  "I don't get it," I said. "I don't know why he still likes her if he knows she'd change her mind based on his money. It doesn't make sense. I guess it's none of my business, anyway."

  "I don't know. I think he really believes he can win her over just the way he is," Luke said.

  "How is it that one of his friends hasn't told her who he is? I mean, all it takes is for one person to slip up and his cover is blown."

  "His friends don't know who he is," Luke said. "He doesn't tell any of his friends or band mates. The only reason we know about it is because we service his bike for free."

  I felt like it was just about the craziest thing I had ever heard. In my mind, if Wes knew these facts about his family would change his friends' or his girlfriend's mind about him, then that should tell him where their priorities were.

  I drove for a minute in silence, feeling frustrated on his behalf. I put myself in that girl's place. Wes was definitely easy on the eyes. He was devastatingly handsome with a mysterious look that caused all sorts of vulnerable feelings, even at first glance.

  I remembered seeing him onstage at Katie's birthday party and thinking about what a talented musician he was. He had the magnetism and charisma of a rock star, and yet, after meeting him tonight, I could see how very sweet and approachable he was.

  He was a total catch just the way he was, and if this model was too blind to see it, then that was too bad for her. Part of me was happy he wasn't telling her he had money, because then she would fall head over heels for him, and quite frankly, she didn't deserve him, anyway.

  Maybe she did.

  I didn't even know the girl, after all.

  I had to remind myself that none of this was my business and Wes Bishop could go around spinning his wheels and pretending to be penniless for as many gorgeous models as he wanted.

  "He said we should go see him play tomorrow night at Old Street Records."

  "Who?" I asked. I had been in such deep thought that Luke's statement made almost no sense to me.

  "Wes," he said as if that were obvious. "His band's playing tomorrow night. He said we should go watch."

  "Who? You and Chasidy?"

  Luke let out a little laugh. "I'm sure I'd take Chasidy, but Wes was talking about me and you when he asked."

  "When did he say that?" I asked.

  "When you went to the restroom. Right before we left."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because I didn't think you would want to go."

  "I don't want to go," I said, maybe a little too soon. "But I still thought you would tell me if somebody invited me somewhere."

  "Sorry," he said. "I didn't think you'd be interested."

  "What did he say?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

  Luke let out a little laugh as he shrugged. I didn't look at him, but I could see him out of the corner of my eye.

  "He said he was playing at Old Street Records tomorrow night and that we should go."

  "Did he specifically say I should go?" I asked.

  I knew right when the words came out of my mouth that I shouldn't have said them.

  Luke reached over and pushed at my leg. "Do you like him?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Yes, you do. I can tell."

  "No, I don't, but even if I did, I wouldn't do anything about it. He's with somebody. Plus, I know about his rich and famous family, so that takes me out of the running, anyway."

  "You seriously like him!" Luke said, shifting in the passenger's seat as if trying to get a better look at me. I could tell by his tone that he was somewhat amazed. I was in a fairly long-term relationship during college, which had ended badly. I hadn't dated anyone in a couple of years, so it had been a while since Luke had the chance to tease me.

  I let out a huff and rolled my eyes even though he couldn't really see me doing it.

  "I can tell you like him, Jo. Your voice is shaking."

  "No, it's not. I just don't see why he would waste his time on a girl who doesn't like him back."

  "Oh, she likes him," Luke said. "I've seen pictures of them together. She likes him all right. She's just not ready to commit."

  I felt a yucky, heavy feeling on account of Luke's statement. It was something akin to jealousy, which was crazy because I had absolutely no right to be jealous over this guy.

  "Are you and Chasidy going?" I asked, trying to distract him.

  "We hadn't planned on it," he said. "I didn't even know he was playing until he mentioned it a few minutes ago."

  We drove for another minute without saying a word to each other. Luke took out his phone and began pushing buttons. In my mind, he was texting Chasidy to ask her if she wanted to go to the show the following evening, but really, I had no idea what he was doing.

  "What'd you get Mom for her birthday?" he asked after two or three minutes.

  "Two shirts and some of that coffee she likes. I made her a card, too. You know she always wants me to do that. What about you?"

  "I got her a case for her phone and this big cast iron pot. It's nice. It's coated with porcelain. Chasidy picked it out. I already gave it to her."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's her birthday. I saw her this morning before I left for work, so I let her open it. Dad got her a new laptop. She was trying to show it to me, but she barely knew how to turn it on."

  I laughed.

  "There they are," he said as we pulled into our parking spot at the restaurant. We could see into the waiting area and could clearly make out our parents' silhouettes through the windows.

  "They're cute together, aren't they?" I asked as we walked toward the door.

  "Yep."

  "Like you and C
hasidy," I said, bumping into him as we walked.

  "Like you and Wes Bishop," Luke said.

  He was obviously just being silly, so I didn't bother defending myself. I just wrinkled my nose at him and didn't say a thing until we stepped into the restaurant and greeted our parents.

  Chapter 4

  I received a text from my brother the following afternoon. It was Friday, and I was wrapping up a busy week at work. My phone was in my purse, so I didn't even see the text until an hour after it came in. I was still in my office when I read it, but my work was done, and I was just about to leave.

  Luke: "What are you doing tonight? You wanna go out with me and Chasidy?"

  I had some friends from college and some others from work with whom I liked to hang out, but I was mostly content to be a homebody, and in spite of it being Friday night, I had no plans. A few of my friends from work were supposed to get together for dinner at Katie's house, but it was mostly a couples' thing, and although I was invited, I made an excuse not to go. My brother and I hung out on a regular basis, but he rarely asked me to go out when he had plans with his girlfriend. The first thing that crossed my mind was that he wanted to go watch Wes's band play. I had been poised to gather my things and leave my office, but I leaned back in my chair so that I could respond to my brother's text.

  I had a nice office. It wasn't huge, but there was enough room for my oversized desk with adequate floor space next to it so that I could hang my dartboard. I took good care of my darts, keeping the tips sharp and making sure the weight was dispensed well so they flew properly. I also always purchased a good brand, which meant they were way more accurate than the ones you find in pubs. It was for this reason that my coworkers would pop into my office to ask me a question that didn't really need asking just so they could take a few shots at the board. My boss didn't mind at all. In fact, he took a turn just about every time he came into my office. I glanced at my dartboard and then a painting I had hanging not far from it as I decided how to respond to my brother. Without too much thought, I typed out a text.

  Me: "Why? What are you and Chasidy doing?"

  I heard back from Luke within seconds.

  Luke: "Going to see firsthand."

  I knew what he meant in spite of the fact that he hadn't capitalized the word firsthand, which gave his statement a double meaning. Firsthand was the name of Wes's band. I remembered it last night when Luke first mentioned the fact that they were playing. I couldn't help but approach everything with the eye of a graphic designer, and I had come up with a few logo designs involving hands that night when we saw them at Katie's birthday party—that's how I remembered their name.

  I felt suddenly nervous that Luke was asking me to go see them. Half of me wanted to stay home and chill after a long week, but the other half was excited at the prospect of seeing Wes again. I almost made a joke to my brother and asked him what they were going to see firsthand, but I decided not to intentionally misunderstand his statement. Instead, I answered back with the truth.

  Me: "I was gonna chill and eat takeout."

  Luke: "Why? It's Friday."

  Me: "Exactly. I'm tired."

  Luke: "Wes is going to be disappointed."

  My stomach tensed-up when I read the words on the screen. I felt excited, but then I chastised myself for it, knowing that Wes would not be disappointed if I didn't show up. He had a model girlfriend for goodness sake—or at least a model he was trying to make his girlfriend. Either way, I knew it was wrong of me to get overly excited by my brother's text. I was sitting there trying to decide how I felt about that statement and how to respond to it when another text came in.

  Luke: "He called me earlier asking about you. He wanted the name of your YouTube channel. He wants to learn how to throw a knife now. He seriously asked if you were going tonight. Just skip the pajamas and come out for once."

  On a side note, this was not at all what my brother's text looked like. While I was one who texted in complete sentences, used capitals and periods, and scanned my texts for spelling errors, my brother was not. I will, now and in the future, translate his texts for the purposes of clarity, but just so you're aware, what I actually saw on the screen was:

  Luke: "he calld askn abt u earler, wntd ur utube name. he wnts to lrn to thrw a knife now!!!! Srsly askd if u were goin tonite. Jus skp the pjs n come out 4 once."

  I read it about three times, making sure I understood it correctly. The part about Wes wanting to know my YouTube name was extremely confusing looking in Luke's shorthand, and I squinted as I read it just to make sure I got it right.

  I thought about someone as cool as Wes Bishop searching my YouTube channel, and suddenly I felt as though I wanted to delete all of my videos. I knew for sure I had made some goofy, corny jokes on those things, and I cringed as I thought about him watching them.

  I typed a response to my brother.

  Me: "Did you tell him the name?"

  Luke: "It's sharpandsweet, right? That's what I told him."

  There was an ampersand between the words sharp and sweet rather than the word 'and', but I didn't bother telling Luke that. I was relieved that he had gotten it slightly wrong.

  Me: "Yep. And I'll think about going tonight. I'm on my way home now. Are you and Chasidy going either way, or are you waiting to hear from me?"

  Luke: "We're probably gonna go since he called and invited us. We don't have anything else going on, anyway. They start at 9pm. You should come."

  I answered back with a thumbs-up emoji and a quick statement that said I would call him to let him know in a little while.

  My office was only a short distance from my flat, so on pretty days, I always walked. There was a parking garage (or a car park) right next door to my office, but I only used it when it was extremely cold or rainy. It was a nice spring day in early April, so it was a no-brainer that I was on foot.

  I had thought about Wes Bishop quite a bit that day, and I still didn't know how I felt about him. I pondered the fact that he was part of such a rich and famous family and yet the people closest to him in London had no idea. I went back and forth about how that made me feel. Part of me pitied him that he felt the need to lie to his friends, but the other part of me didn't feel like he was lying at all—but simply omitting certain details. I actually admired him for being able to keep quiet about it and not use his family status as a way to gain friends or impress women. I wondered what this girl must look like if he had been chasing after her for so long. I wondered why men always wanted what they couldn't have. I felt jealous of her, and I pondered what I could do to make myself become appealing to a guy like Wes.

  I searched his name on social media, but I couldn't come up with anything. I wasn't surprised by this since I figured he wouldn't have a social media presence, anyway. He was too mysterious for that. I did find an account for his band, and while there were pictures of him posted, it seemed that it was run by someone else.

  While I was on the internet, I went to my own YouTube channel. I had nearly a hundred videos posted, and I felt tempted to go through them and filter out the ones that were embarrassing in any way, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was who I was, and I really shouldn't care who watched my videos or how they judged me—even if it was someone as cool as Wes Bishop.

  ***

  I was extremely back-and-forth about it, but I decided to go to the show that evening. I had heard good things about Old Street Records but had never been there, and finally, I talked myself into going. I considered trying to get a friend to accompany me so that I wouldn't be a third wheel with Luke and Chasidy, but I ultimately decided to go alone.

  I told myself I didn't care what Wes Bishop thought about me, but I still took a little extra time getting dressed. I had long hair, which I straightened with a flatiron and wore down, hanging over my shoulders. It was cool enough for me to layer clothing, so I wore torn skinny jeans and an off white, off-the-shoulder sweater with a dark shirt underneath. It was a carefully planned outfit with
boots and accessories and everything. I even wore a little blush and shimmery lipstick, which was rare since I usually only wore powder and lip balm.

  I had a few minutes to spare after I was finished getting ready, so I did a little target practice in my living room. On one wall, I had a homemade target area that my parents helped me construct. It was mounted on the wall and was large and thick enough to absorb as much abuse as I could dish out without causing damage to my wall or bothering my neighbors. It was two meters wide and extended from floor to ceiling, which was plenty enough room for me to throw freely without missing—even during trick shots or when trying more complicated techniques.

  I had a rather sizeable collection of knives including a large set of simple, all silver blades that I used for speed practice. They were steel shafts with no handles. The only way you could distinguish one end from the other was the fact that the knife end was sharp and pointed and the handle end was blunt.

  I stood at a distance of approximately three meters (or ten feet) and threw the set three times. I still considered myself an American and thus still thought of distances in inches and feet, but since I had been in Europe for so long, the metric system had crept into my vocabulary. Sometimes, I referred to distances in meters and sometimes I used feet; it just depended on my mood and who I was talking to.

  Luke and Chasidy called when they pulled up outside my building, and I met them on the street. My brother had been to the venue before and said he would drive. They picked me up at seven o'clock so we could grab a bite to eat first. I warned him this would still make us early for the show, but he seemed to think we'd be pressed for time after dealing with traffic.

  I wasn't necessarily one to say I told you so, but in this case, I was correct—we got to the venue thirty minutes early rather than ten minutes late like we were shooting for.

  Chapter 5

  Old Street Records was already crowded when we arrived. It was dark and noisy inside, and the décor was warm and inviting with lots of exposed brick and red neon. Many of the tables were already taken, but we found our way to an area with some barstools along the wall.