Just a Kiss

by Tabatha Kiss

  I jolt out of my trance. Shit.

  Make that one minute.

  I rush to the elevator and slap the call button. Thankfully, the doors open automatically and I begin the slow trek down to the lobby.

  “Well, it’s about time.”

  I hear my mother before I even step up onto the rented bus. She sits in the front row next to my father with her sunglasses balanced on the tip of her nose.

  “Sorry,” I say as I pass the driver. “I got mowed down by a runaway housekeeping cart.”

  She pushes her glasses up her nose and gestures to the seat across from them. “Well, sit down. We’re all very hungry.”

  I look forward at the thirty heads scattered around the bus and what was left of my morning buzz practically fades to nothing when I see the only empty seat she’s pointing at.

  Right next to Dylan McCoy.

  Lord, kill me now.

  He smiles wide and taps the seat with his palm.

  Or, you know, just kill him instead.

  I step forward and slowly lower myself into the seat. Maybe I won’t have to talk. Maybe he’ll just sit quietly until we make it to the breakfast diner and then I can bolt away to sit by Trudy and the girls instead.

  “Couldn’t find you last night.”

  Dammit.

  I glance at Dylan out of the corner of my eye. “No?”

  “I was hoping we could talk,” he says.

  “We talked at dinner,” I point out.

  His smiles, his chin flat and uninteresting. “I meant something more private. Just the two of us.”

  I stare daggers at the driver. What the hell is he waiting on? Let’s go.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I met up with some friends.”

  “Well, how about tonight?” he asks. “We could meet at the hotel bar. Have a drink. Catch up.”

  “I have plans tonight, actually,” I say, embracing what’s really true. “I’m hanging out with Maggie and Trudy.”

  “How about after?”

  I exhale slowly. “Dylan…”

  “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  “You mean my boyfriend?”

  His jaw flexes. “He’s not your boyfriend,” he spits, his voice so low even I can barely hear him. “Any moron can see that. You’re not fooling anybody, Pen. Especially not me.”

  The bus revs with life as the driver finally decides to do his damn job.

  I grit my teeth, tasting the words on the tip of my tongue.

  Piss off, Dylan.

  It’s never going to happen.

  Get out of my life.

  Dylan’s face softens. “Christ, I’m sorry, Pen,” he whispers. “I just… I really think we’d have fun together. If you’d just give me another chance. Just one drink. As friends. Tonight.”

  I turn my head toward my mother across the bus. She smiles the moment we make eye contact and gives me a gentle push with her gaze.

  One of these days, I tell myself.

  But I can already tell that day is not today.

  If I don’t agree to this, he’ll just keep bothering me. He might even tell my parents about his obvious suspicions about Hayden and then this weekend will get even more awkward than this ambush.

  “Yeah, sure, Dylan,” I say in his direction. “One drink. As friends.”

  He throws up a fucking scout’s honor and smiles. “As friends,” he says with a nod. “As you wish.”

  I swallow my groan.

  Twelve

  Hayden

  I adjust the cuffs on my suit jacket as I make my way across the lobby toward the bar. The moment I step inside, a whistle rings out and I glance up to see Doc nodding at me in approval.

  “You’re looking snazzy this evening,” he says as he tilts his cutting board and rolls the freshly sliced lemon wedges into a container.

  I place my phone face-up on the bar and slide into an empty stool. “Thank you very much,” I say.

  “Hot date tonight?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Going out or staying in?”

  I pause to consider. “Little bit of both.”

  “Get you a drink?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’ll take…” I look a few stools down on my left to see Faye leaning over a pile of paperwork with her own drink. “A beer,” I finish. “Whatever she’s having.”

  Doc nods and turns to grab one from the fridge.

  “Hey, Faye,” I greet. Her brow twitches. “Having fun?”

  She exhales and turns her head up as she reaches for her bottle. “I’m making next week’s employee schedule,” she says.

  “On a Saturday night?”

  Doc chortles as he sets my beer down in front of me. “Don’t bother, man. I’ve tried for years to get Faye to let loose and have some fun. It ain’t gonna happen.”

  She smirks. “I dunno. Kicking your sorry asses last night sure was what I’d call fun.”

  I laugh. “She’s got a point, Doc.”

  “Anyone can sit down and get lucky at a game of cards,” he says.

  “Five weeks in a row?” she jabs as she takes a sip of her beer.

  He glares but his lips curl.

  My phone vibrates against the bar and I snatch it up fast to check if Penelope needs me. The two of them instantly react with squinting, suspicious eyes.

  “Expecting a call there, buddy?” Doc asks.

  “No,” I say quickly as I swipe to answer.

  Faye tilts her head. “That wouldn’t happen to be a certain good luck charm, would it?”

  “No. It’s just Jonah,” I say, playing it cool.

  Doc and Faye exchange another glance.

  “Hey, Jo,” I answer.

  “Hi,” he says. He lets out a stiff yawn. “Sorry I missed your calls. I was sleeping.”

  “Did you just wake up?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s five in the afternoon.”

  “I’m on tour,” he simply says.

  “Fair enough. Hey, I’m bringing a date to your show tonight and she’s a big fan. You think you can score me some backstage time? I’d owe you one.”

  He yawns again and I nearly catch it. “Sure, man.”

  “Thanks a lot, Jo.”

  “Just like… text me the info or something so I remember this conversation happened.”

  I chuckle. “Will do. I’ll see you tonight. Take it easy.”

  “I’m on tour,” he says again, this time a little defensively.

  “Okay. Bye, Jo.”

  “Bye, Graham.”

  I lower my phone to the bar again. “Eh, close enough.”

  Doc hums loudly. “Taking the lady friend to little brother’s show, huh?”

  “More like kidnapping her from the nosebleeds and dropping her in the front row,” I say.

  He extends his fist and I give it a bump. “That’s how it’s done,” he says with respect.

  Faye scoffs to herself.

  My phone vibrates again but Doc picks it up before I can.

  “Stratosphere,” he reads aloud. “S.O.S.”

  I take a last swig from my beer. “That’s my cue. I gotta run.”

  He keeps hold of my phone. “Why is —” he checks the screen, “— Penny sending you an S.O.S.?”

  “Give me back my phone and I can find out,” I say, extending my hand.

  He teases me with it, quickly pulling it away before I can grab it. “This new hobby of yours doesn’t seem all that healthy…”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Faye quips with her head down. “He’s actually showered this week.”

  “Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asks.

  I glare before snatching my phone back from his hand. “I’ll rest when Penny goes home. In the meantime, I have a job to do.”

  I swipe open the message and send one back.

  On my way.

  Thirteen

  Penelope

  I swear to God.

  If Dylan’s hand accidentally grazes my thigh under the table one m
ore time.

  I’m going to stab him with my fork.

  And throw him out the window.

  I’m not sure how to do it from the top of this fucking tower but I will find a way.

  Hurry, Hayden.

  I sent out that S.O.S. almost thirty minutes ago. Maybe I’m being a touch too impatient against Saturday night Las Vegas traffic. Los Angeles can’t possibly be any better—

  Did he just fucking touch me again?

  “It’s so nice to have all the family in a place like this,” my mother says across the circular table as she slices into her steak. “Really makes you appreciate the loyal people in your lives. The person sitting next to you might just be there for you for the rest of your life. Isn’t that right, Penelope?”

  I squeeze the handle on my salad fork and ignore the obvious prompt to gaze lovingly at Dylan. “Yeah, sure,” I say.

  She smiles wide and looks down at my plate. “Not hungry, dear?” she asks. “You should really try the filet. It’s amazing.”

  I exhale. “Except that it’s meat, Mom.”

  Her head tilts in confusion.

  “I don’t eat meat,” I say.

  Dylan raises his wineglass. “Well, I do!” he says. “Cheers, Mary Lou.”

  She chortles and sloppily reaches for her own glass to toast him.

  My father looks up from his plate and wipes his mouth on his cloth napkin. “Where’s Hayden tonight?” he asks me, drawing the immediate ire of my mother’s eyes.

  God bless you, father.

  “Actually…” I sit up a little taller, “he’s on his way here now.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He leans forward in interest.

  Dylan stabs his filet, his fork scratching the plate beneath it.

  “Yes,” I answer. “He was busy earlier today but he wanted to make an appearance tonight.”

  “Good man that Hayden!” he says to the table. “I saw his father speak once. Very smart!”

  I smile, strangely feeling a bit of pride in my father’s approval. It’s not all that common I get to hear my parents praise any of my decisions out loud — let alone brag about them to extended family members.

  Dylan suddenly hoists himself out of his chair. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Warren.” He exhales a dramatic pause. “I don’t mean to make a scene at dinner but I care about your daughter too much to sit on this any longer.”

  I stiffen with nerves.

  Oh, God. What’s he doing now?

  Dylan reaches into his pocket and withdraws his phone. “Penelope,” he says, looking at me, “I think it’s time you knew the truth about Hayden.”

  I blink. The truth?

  “After you announced your relationship, I did a little digging,” he says. “I was worried about you and a man of his reputation is…”

  He purposefully stalls.

  “Reputation?” my mother asks, clenching her nonexistent pearls as she takes the bait. “What reputation?”

  “Dylan…” I keep my voice steady. “You don’t have to—”

  “The Warren name is a respectable name,” he says over me. “And to see it sullied by a man like this…”

  He hands my mother his phone and she gasps.

  “My Lord…” she says. “What is this?”

  “That’s Hayden’s Instagram account, ma’am,” he answers.

  I fix my eyes to keep them from rolling. “Mom—”

  She looks at me in disgust. “Did you know about this?”

  “Did I know that he likes to post gym selfies? Yes. He’s proud of his body.”

  “But what about…” she lowers her voice, “the women?” She peeks at the phone again and shudders. “How old are these girls?” she asks Dylan.

  I sigh. “Mom—”

  “Hard to say,” Dylan says, looking solemn. “But honestly… these are just the ones he posts about publicly. There are surely others and…” He pauses once again. “I’ve taken the liberty of asking the hotel staff and Hayden… He’s been seen with certain housekeepers…”

  “Dylan,” I spit with annoyance.

  “Within the last month.”

  My mother gasps again. Even my father shifts backward in his chair, his mouth sagging in shock.

  Okay. So, this is Dylan’s master plan. He’s obviously figured out that Hayden and I aren’t actually dating. Instead of throwing me under the bus, he’s using that as leverage in order to make me go along with getting my family to turn on Hayden for being a horrible, cheating philanderer… while he comes out looking like a damned hero.

  “Penny!”

  I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. I glance up, equally ecstatic to see him as much as I curse his timing.

  Hayden smiles at me and leans down to peck my forehead. “Sorry I’m a little late,” he says to the table. “Saturday night traffic just isn’t going to get any better, is it?”

  He chuckles while they all silently stare at him with cold, angry eyes.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks, his gaze bouncing from one face to the next.

  My parents look at me with caution, fully expecting me to show some kind of reaction to the news I just received. They think I just found out that my boyfriend of twelve weeks and four days has been cheating on me with housekeepers. I should react.

  Fuck. I have to react, don’t I?

  I slowly stand up and grab my water glass with a shaking hand. Hayden looks at me as I turn in his direction, looking no less confused about this but I’ll explain it all to him later and hope he forgives me for what I’m about to do.

  I make my bottom lip quiver. “You bastard!” I say.

  I throw the drink in his face. The room audibly gasps and the air settles into an eerie, murmuring silence.

  Water slides down Hayden’s chiseled face, from his forehead to his shoulders as he jolts back in response.

  “Um…” he says, licking his lips. “So, Penny…”

  I twist around and bolt from the table, curling around the tables toward the exit.

  “Penny, wait!”

  Good. Yes. Follow me, Hayden. Come on…

  I forcibly glance over my shoulder to confirm it and he trails a few long strides behind me. “Don’t you touch me, you… you… creep!”

  I step through the glass entryway door as Hayden’s hand grazes my elbow.

  “Penny, what the hell is going on?” he asks.

  I come to a stop outside the door, staying in full view of my family’s concerned eyes across the restaurant but they can’t hear us through the glass.

  I throw on an angry face and shake off his grip. “I am so sorry,” I growl. “Are you okay? I really didn’t want to do that.”

  Hayden blinks. “So, why did you?”

  “Because Dylan just exposed you as an alleged cheater to my parents.” I point a stiff finger at his face. “So, now, I have to pretend to be breaking up with you right now.”

  He takes one look at my family through the glass door and gets it. “Wow, that Dylan guy’s a real dick,” he says, his face turning solemn.

  “You bet your ass he is.”

  Hayden gestures at me in feigned annoyance. “So, what do we do now?”

  I stomp my foot. “I don’t know.” I ball my fists. “I can probably whip up a few tears to really sell this thing but then you gotta go.”

  “Come with me,” he says, hanging his head in deep regret.

  “I can’t.” I dig deep, scrounging up any tears I can find. “It’d look suspicious if I didn’t go back in.”

  He grits his teeth. “Okay, you go back in, I’ll leave, but you meet me at the concert tonight.”

  My jaw drops to show some other shocking revelation. “You’re going to the concert tonight?”

  “I was gonna surprise you,” he gestures me up and down in a show of dissatisfaction, “but my brother is getting us backstage to meet the band.”

  I hang my head in my hands as the tears roll freely. “That is so fucking cool,” I say.

  “Ah, hell.” He cringes fo
r real. “Please don’t really cry. You’re making me feel bad right now.”

  “You’re so sweet.” I wipe a cheek and point defiantly toward the exit. “Now, get out of here… you creep.”

  He keeps a firm face but his eyes smile as he takes several steps backward. “This is why I like you, Penelope Warren,” he says before spinning around and shoving the exit door wide open.

  I hang my head again, lingering in place on purpose, while my tears dry and my smile curls.

  Okay, this might be going a little too far now but my morning buzz has fully returned with a vengeance as an evening sizzle.

  He likes me?

  “Penelope?”

  I look up and wipe my cheeks. “Oh. Hey, Mom.”

  She steps through the glass door and sighs. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” I sniff the tears away. “I’m just… not feeling very hungry right now.”

  Her arms open and I step into them to accept her motherly embrace.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” she says as she rubs my back.

  I take a deep breath. “Thanks. I’ll be okay, really.”

  She leans back and rubs my shoulders. “I know you will,” she says, smiling as she boops my nose. “Because there’s another man inside waiting for a chance to put a smile on your face again.”

  I bite down. Hard.

  Okay. So, let’s unpack this.

  My mother just witnessed my very public break-up. Sure, not real. But she doesn’t know that.

  And her first thought is to thrust me into the arms of Dylan McCoy?

  “Mom…” I take a step back. “I don’t think this is the best time to—”

  She latches around my arm and takes me with her back into the restaurant. “I think it’s about time you gave him a chance once and for all. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  My voice cracks. “I don’t—”

  “Loyal, trustworthy men are hard to come by in this world. I’m glad you’re finally starting to see things my way.”

  “But I’m not—”

  She puts pressure on my shoulders and sits me down in my chair again.

  Right next to Dylan fucking McCoy.

  Rebellion stirs in my chest.

  Suddenly, I can’t fucking wait for this concert tonight.