by Jewel E. Ann
Score one for Parker. She grimaced the minute the words fell from her lips—a brilliant reflection of self-assessment.
“Oh shit.” Her eyes pinched shut while her head shook side to side.
“You don’t have to feel bad. It’s true. Sabrina and I should—”
“No. It-it’s not you. It’s me. The ‘oh shit’ was me.” Laughter and tears warred in her head. Parker’s sister and boyfriend had been sleeping together, and she had no clue until she saw it—up close and way too personal. She knew exactly how two people could be so oblivious to what the other one was doing in their life. Parker’s smile wilted as she whispered, “Thank you for inspiring a very humbling moment.”
Gus took a step back and shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “Now I’m really lost.”
“Forget it.” She shook it off. “You share your birthday with your grandmother. That’s cool. Did she enjoy the soup and flowers?”
Gus nodded slowly but his expression was still the confused look from seconds earlier. The crackling of a car pulling into the gravel drive stole his focus. He glanced back over his shoulder as a black Chevy Cruz came to a stop.
“That’s my ride.”
“Is something wrong with your truck.”
She waved at her friend Mindy. “There’s a lot wrong with Old Blue, but that’s not why I have a ride for the night. I had a long first day at my new job, and I haven’t been drunk in months. Thought I’d rectify that tonight. Mindy is four months pregnant which makes her the perfect designated driver, and she’s dying to get out of the house since she spent three months at home hugging the toilet.”
Gus gave Mindy a friendly wave. Parker grabbed her purse from the floor by the door then locked it behind her.
“You named your truck?”
“Nope. My grandfather did. I just inherited it. Thought changing the name would be weird. It’s been called that forever.”
“O-kay.” He lifted his cap and scratched his head before pulling it back on. “Have a good time.”
“Thanks. Happy Birthday, Gus. Enjoy your evening with Romeo and Rags.”
“Uh-huh,” he hummed as he walked down the porch steps.
Chapter Six
Parker and Mindy met three other friends from high school at a bar downtown in East Village. Choosing Caleb and his college of choice over her volleyball scholarship opportunities led to four years of sex on demand instead of making lifelong friends. When she moved back home after college, Parker reconnected with a few girls from high school.
“I’ve had too much to drink,” Parker shouted over the loud music, the scuff of bar stools dragged along the wood floor, and patrons laughing and swearing. “And…” she closed her eyes for a moment, but the room continued to spin making her as dizzy as the cloying perfume mixed with the aroma of nachos and fried pickles “…I’m tired of shouting.”
“Close your tabs. We’re moving on!” Mindy motioned to the other girls, holding up her credit card. She fixed her short black hair in the mirror behind the bar that reflected a half-dozen neon beer signs.
Parker leaned toward her. Misjudging the distance, her lips pressed to Mindy’s ear. “Moving on? No. We should go home.”
Mindy’s elbow landed in Parker’s ribs. “You’ve had three drinks, you lightweight. I have five months of freedom left. We are not going home yet.”
“I don’t want to throw up. I don’t like it.”
Mindy laughed as they snaked their way through the crowded bar toward the door. “Let’s go to the brewery on the corner. They don’t have live music, so you shouldn’t have to yell, and you can get some food to absorb all three drinks you’ve had.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She ignored Parker’s whining and looped their arms together as they stepped out into the suffocating humidity.
“It’s past my bedtime.” Parker rested her head on Mindy’s shoulder.
“It’s ten o’clock. What are you? Sixty?” Gretchen giggled, blond hair matted to her sweaty face as she peeked over her shoulder at Parker. The girl must have danced ten songs in a row at the bar. A bar where no one else was dancing.
Upon opening the door to the brewery, Parker noticed half the noise level of the bar and smelled foods far more appealing than nachos and fried pickles—like French fries.
The waitress with a bust twice as big as her ass and streaks of red in her blond hair seated them in a U-shaped booth close to the bar.
“Just water for me.” Parker’s numb lips attempted a sober smile at the waitress.
“She’ll also have a Coors Light, nachos supreme, and sweet potato fries with ranch dressing,” Mindy handed the waitress their menus.
“I can’t eat that—”
“You’ll feel better once you do.” She reassured Parker, who questioned what kind of mom Mindy would be.
The other girls ordered martinis and cheeseburgers as the whir of a blender sounded in the background. A margarita sounded good to Parker, rimmed with yummy salt and sugar.
By the time their food arrived, Parker had consumed three more drinks, and the world felt like a much happier place.
“This is so good,” she mumbled through a mouthful of sweet potato fries. “I’m so hungry.”
Mindy laughed. “Told ya.”
The cold beer washed the salty food down. Everything tasted heavenly. Had she switched to water, then Mindy’s food-absorbing-the-alcohol theory might have been correct. Instead, Mindy had to hush Parker every two seconds, reminding her that there was no longer any reason to shout.
“Cheers to an awesome night with awesome friends, awesome food, and awesome beer.” Parker slurred her words and held up a bottle of beer. “Tonight has been …”
The girls giggled as her brain quit mid-sentence.
“Awesome?” a male voice said from the booth next to theirs. “That’s the word you were looking for, right? ‘Tonight has been awesome.’”
More laughter from her friends erupted as Parker tried to find the source of the voice. The slow drip of alcohol into her bloodstream dulled her perception, leaving a numbing tingle.
Gretchen pointed behind them.
Parker scooted around and stood up on her knees, peeking at the group of guys in the booth behind them. “Au-gu-st Wa-Water-man. What are the chances?”
“Parker.” He grinned, looking too sexy for his own good in a Captain America tee and his signature Cubs hat.
There must have been five or ten other guys in the booth with him. Ten if he had lots of friends. Five if the last beer messed with her brain.
“Happy Birf-day, Gus.” Parker’s head dipped into a sharp nod. At some point, her reflexes decided to take the night off. Her neck failed to keep her head from bobbing around.
“Thank you, Parker.”
Why did she love and hate hearing him say her name? Was that possible? Sober Parker didn’t like it, but drunk Parker could have listened to him say it all night. She licked her lips as he tipped back his beer, keeping his eyes set on her.
“These are my friends.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “Friends, say hi to Gus and his …”
“Friends?” Gus once again offered to finish her sentence.
“Yes. That’s the word. Gus likes ponies and dandelions in his yard.”
“Hi,” her friends chimed in the background.
Gus eyed her, wearing a twisted grin on his shadowed face. She thought he needed to let his head get some air, give the old Cubs cap a night off.
“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” She beamed with pride having accurately completed a sentence without anyone’s help.
The guys celebrating with Gus looked at him while he stayed focused on her. “Parker, these are my friends. Guys, this is my neighbor, Parker. She’s incredibly talented at faking orgasms, shearing sheepdogs, karaoke, and stealing the dandelions from my yard.”
The male versus female reaction to that introduction proved to be rather entertaining. Parker’s fri
ends threw their heads back in unrestrained laughter while Gus’s friends bowed their heads, attempting to stifle their amusement.
“Fuck! If she’s your neighbor, then I need to move to your neighborhood,” one of the guys next to him mumbled, eliciting the second round of laughter.
“For the record…” Parker held up a finger “…it was my first time shearing a sheepdog.” She giggled. “But I’m sooo flattered Gus thinks I’m good at it. And…” she held up a second finger, but she wasn’t counting anything “…I didn’t steal the dandelions. I removed them one at a time under the direct order of my boss. Finally…” a third finger shot up “…I only fake orgasms when I’m home alone.” Her fingers remained in the air as she ended with a resolute nod. “There you have it.”
“Parker Cruse.” Mindy pulled her arm. “Let’s get you home.”
A flicker of a smile passed Gus’s lips as everyone else continued to laugh.
“I’m so tired.” Parker turned around and deflated in the booth.
“Everyone needs to use the ladies’ room before we get in my car. And no vomiting allowed.” Mindy grabbed Parker’s purse and tugged on her hand.
“You’re going to be such a good mama.” Parker rubbed Mindy’s tummy as they played follow the leader to the ladies’ room. Never before had she rubbed a pregnant woman’s belly. Wasn’t her thing. But enough alcohol made all kinds of embarrassing acts “her thing.”
Mindy helped Parker steady herself as she relieved her bladder—so she wouldn’t fall in the toilet—washed her hands, and made her stand outside the ladies’ room. “Gretchen needs my help. I think her cell phone fell in the toilet.” Mindy pushed Parker’s shoulders back against the wall and pointed a finger at her face. “Don’t move. Don’t pass out. Don’t vomit. Don’t. Move. An. Inch.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Trying to focus on anything made her head hurt, so she closed her eyes.
“Open your eyes,” Mindy said, finger still pointed at Parker’s face.
“Okay. They’re open.”
Parker waited like a good girl … and waited … and got tired of waiting, so she slid along the wall to the door to the ladies’ room and tugged it open.
“Mindy?”
A couple of guys gave her the stink eye. She wasn’t the pervert in the ladies’ room. Why the looks?
“There’s no Mindy in here. You need me to call you a cab?” a guy decorated with tats and piercings asked as he grabbed a wad of paper towels and dried his hands.
“No. Mindy is my DD. I’m good. Oh wow!” Parker brushed her hand along a funny looking porcelain sink. “Haven’t seen one like this before. Nice.”
The guy laughed. “A urinal?” He chuckled some more. “I’d wash my hands if I were you.”
She pulled her hand away and stiffly held her fingers out like Sabrina had done after she shook Parker’s sweaty hand the day they met. “Ew …”
“Parker?”
“Gus?” She turned.
“She with you?” pierced guy asked. “If so, make sure she washes her hands.” He brushed past Gus.
Parker held up her hand. “High-five?”
Gus shook his head and steered her by her shoulders to the sink. “Wash them.”
She held them under the water.
“Soap,” he said.
She tried to focus on his reflection in the mirror to roll her eyes at him. Epic fail.
He handed her several paper towels.
“Aw, thanks, Gus.” Parker sighed as he dried her hands since she held the towels without actually drying them. “You’d be a good mom too, just like Mindy.”
Without a response, he guided her out of the men’s room.
“Parker!” Mindy pressed her hand to her chest. “What the hell were you doing? I told you to stay put.” She eyed Gus with disgust. “Trying to take advantage of a drunk girl?”
Gus released Parker’s shoulders and held up his hands in surrender. “Nope.”
“He helped me wash my hands.” Her bobblehead nodded. “I got a little too personal with a urinal.”
“Let’s go.” Mindy grabbed Parker’s hand and pulled on it.
Parker jerked it away and turned toward Gus. “Night, Birf-day boy.”
“Nigh—”
Before he could finish, Parker lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. They were warm and soft and tasted like her favorite beer.
“Parker!” Mindy ripped her away from him.
Parker laughed. “What? It was a birthday kiss.”
Mindy dragged her out of the brewery. When Parker glanced back, Gus rubbed his hand over his mouth.
“I thought you said his wife is your boss?” Mindy opened the car door and shoved Parker into the seat.
“What happened?” Gretchen’s voice slurred from the backseat. The other two seemed to be passed out.
“Nothing,” Mindy grumbled before slamming the door shut.
“I think Mama Mindy is going to ground me.” Parker hummed a sigh, closed her eyes, and surrendered to the alcohol in her blood.
Chapter Seven
The alcohol didn’t kill Parker, but the memories and the embarrassment that accompanied them vied for the job of executioner.
“Feeling better?”
“Mom?” Morning aimed its flashlight in Parker’s face. “Shut the curtains.” She buried her head under the pillow.
“Mindy called me this morning. Said I might want to check on you. It could be alcohol poisoning. Was it worth it?”
“It’s not alcohol poisoning. Just a good old-fashioned hangover. I’ll live.”
Janey jerked the pillow off her daughter’s head. “Not if you don’t grow up and start taking better care of yourself.”
“It was one night.” Her hand felt around. Finding the sheet wadded at her waist, Parker yanked it up over her head. It didn’t block out much light.
“Don’t you have to work today? How’s your new job going? When did the neighbors get a pony? I don’t think that’s allowed in the covenant.”
“The Stantons have a goat and chickens.” Parker’s pulse claimed a front row seat in her head—loud and strong as she sat up, eyes squinted.
“They were grandfathered in.”
“Whatever.” She stood, suppressing a grimace. “It’s not their pony and it will be gone by the end of the day.”
“The guy, Mr. Gustafson, was outside brushing it this morning.”
Parker laughed. Her head pounded. “Ouch. Stop making me laugh.”
Showing no regard for her privacy, Janey followed her to the bathroom. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“Gus. His name is Gus or August Westman, not Gustafson. You’ve watched Grumpy Old Men too many times. And … hello? I’m peeing.”
“I changed your diapers, Parker. And we’re both women. What’s the big deal?”
Parker couldn’t wait, so she did her thing. Mothers didn’t care about dignity. The go-to response for everything was “I changed your diapers” and that somehow gave them the right to an eternity of privacy invasion.
“You really shouldn’t use antiperspirant.”
“Stop reading the labels on my things.”
“Parker, if you don’t let your body sweat, then all the toxins stay trapped inside and …” The woman who thought Parker still wore diapers frowned as she inspected her daughter’s whitening toothpaste.
Parker flushed the toilet and nudged her mom aside with her hip so she could wash her hands. “The toxins stay trapped inside and what? Make me toxic.”
“Are you pooping regularly?”
“Mom! Really?”
“I take magnesium before bed every night, and I have a good clean out in the morning. Your father?” Her nose wrinkled as she shuddered. “It smells like he gave birth to a rotting animal carcass that’s been up there for days.”
“Funny thing…” squeezing past her, Parker grabbed a white robe from the foot of her bed “…when I was younger you always asked me why I spent so much time at my friends�
� houses and they rarely came to our house. Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d still have friends if you shared your bowel movement schedule.”
Janey followed Parker down the stairs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would never—”
“Never what? Tell the lady making your burrito at Chipotle that you love the hot sauce, but it ‘sure burns coming out the backside.’”
“Oh, Parker, she was close to my age. I’d imagine she’s had a few cases of red hole herself.”
A heavy dose of Mother did little to remedy Parker’s hangover. Grabbing two Advil out of the cupboard, she washed them down with a tall glass of water. “Unbelievable.” She laughed, looking out the window. “He’s still brushing Romeo.”
“Who’s Romeo?”
“The pony.” Parker turned and set the glass on the counter. “Well, as much as I’d love to continue this shitty conversation, I can’t. Work calls.” Specifically, an apology for her inappropriateness the previous night.
“Lots of water today, Parker.”
She leaned down and kissed her mom on the cheek before heading back upstairs. “Yes, Mom.”
*
August Westman woke with a flurried mess of emotions. Loneliness and resentment had crept into his life. He lived with a dog that belonged to his wife and a wife that belonged to her job. At least that’s what it felt like with Sabrina gone almost as much as she was there. And when they were together, they were still so far apart.
He’d worked hard to build his own business as one of the best and most respected electricians in the Des Moines area. His job became his life after Sabrina landed her dream job heading up an engineering firm. No more date nights. No more spontaneous getaways. No more coming home for lunch to his wife in lingerie.
Instead, he had a new neighbor. A young neighbor. And he had the feel of her lips pressed to his imprinted into his memory forever. On that particular morning, he also had a few hours left with his borrowed pony, so he decided to make the most of it.
“Shit. Be cool,” he whispered to himself as Parker Cruse strutted her defined legs toward him, perky boobs bouncing with each step, and dark, pin-straight hair whipping around her neck.