Stuttering, choking, sobbing, Joey struggled to find her voice. When she couldn’t, she reached for Michael and cradled her face against the crook of her neck and wept.
Michael, the nosiest of them all, tsked under her breath and patted Joey lovingly on the back.
The embrace tightened as more arms encircled her.
It was impossible not to feel the love radiating from her sisters and it was natural for her to want to stay cocooned in their embraces forever. They might be meddlesome, but when it came right down to it, they were Joey’s lifelines.
“He didn’t propose, did he?” Peyton asked softly.
This time instead of trying to talk, Joey shook her head.
Moans of disappointment surrounded her.
“It’s all right,” Michael cooed, stroking the back of her head. “There’s always Christmas.”
Between them, the one sister who undoubtedly understood Joey’s plight was Michael. She’d finally made it down the aisle after dating her husband, Phillip, for ten years and being engaged for an additional five. She was an inspiration to any woman who was determined to hang onto her man.
Hang on.
Joey sniffed and eased out of their arms. “I’m okay,” she lied. “But...I would love something for my headache.”
“I’ll get you some aspirin,” Sheldon said, and took off for the bathroom’s medicine cabinet.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Peyton asked, reaching for her hand.
Joey did...and she didn’t. She was new to this kind of emotional breakdown. It was embarrassing how she’d hung her hopes and dreams on a proposal.
Sheldon returned with the requested aspirins and a small Dixie cup of water. “Here you go, sweetie.”
Joey quickly popped the pills and quenched her disappointment when it didn’t immediately soothe her headache. “I can’t believe you guys drove up here to L.A. to check up on me.”
Frankie waved her off. “Are you kidding? With Sheldon’s heavy foot, it only took three hours.”
Up until a year ago, all of the sisters resided in their hometown of San Jose. Joey moved to L.A. first, chasing her dream of becoming a screenwriter and shortly after, Michael and her husband, Phillip, moved there when his job transferred.
“I just don’t know what happened.” Joey shook her head. “Where did I go wrong?” she finally settled on asking. Her eyes swam. “We were perfect together.”
Everyone’s concern deepened with their frowns, but they all seem cautious about pressing her too much.
“He dumped me,” Joey confessed, wanting to get over this whole ugly business. “On one of the most romantic nights of my life, he dumps me.”
“That bastard.” Michael’s frown hardened into stone. “I say we go down and put sugar in the tank of his brand-new Mercedes.”
“Or key up the paint job,” Frankie added.
“Heck, how about we pull that job we did to Peyton’s first husband, Ricky? We can break into his place and superglue everything together.”
Peyton crossed her arms. “Only, more than half that stuff you guys glued was mine.”
“Hey, it was the thought that counts,” Michael reasoned defensively.
“No,” Joey said, jumping in before they got carried away. “No silly acts of revenge. We’re too old for that, don’t you think?”
Sheldon crossed her arms over the small bulge of her stomach. “Age is a state of mind.”
“Joey’s right.” Peyton said. “I’m not crawling through any more windows.”
The girls’ shoulders deflated.
“I just don’t get it,” Sheldon griped. “He boasted he was crazy about you just this past New Year’s.”
“I cooked for that man,” Frankie added.
Everyone looked at her.
“Well, I supervised,” she amended.
“I’m sorry, Joey,” Peyton said with commiseration. “But maybe this was for the best.”
“The best? How can you say that? He was perfect. We were perfect.”
The room went silent with her declaration, and Joey looked around confused. “What? You guys liked him. You all said so.”
Everyone’s eyes couldn’t or wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“It doesn’t matter. I love him and he loves me¾he told me so.”
“He sure has a strange way of showing it,” Peyton quipped.
“Don’t start, P.J,” Joey retorted, and smote her with a look of warning. “No male bashing today.”
Peyton’s wounded look was quickly covered with a broad smile. “Hey, I love men.”
The other sisters turned their incredulous gazes toward her.
“Okay. I love my man.” Peyton amended.
Against her will, Joey’s lips curled into a smile. “Exactly, and when you love someone, you should fight for them.”
“I thought you were supposed to set them free,” Sheldon said. “Isn’t that how the song goes?”
Joey untangled herself from her sisters and climbed out of bed. She didn’t know where her surge of courage and determination was coming from but from nowhere a balloon of hope inflated within her.
“I’m not letting Laurence go.” She lifted her chin. “He just doesn’t know what he wants and probably got scared.” She turned and headed toward the closet.
Peyton frowned. “What are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to do whatever it takes to win my man back.”
Chapter 3
A nervous Joey twitched at the front door of the Blue Diamond, praying her name would magically appear on the club’s guest list. The three times she’d been allowed into the exclusive club was when she was draped on Laurence’s arm¾mainly because Laurence’s brother was the club’s owner.
“I’m sorry, Joey, but your name is not on the list.” Marcus, the bouncer, a brick building of a man, glanced down at her and shrugged. “I can’t let you in."
“C’mon, Marcus.” Joey flashed her best smile. She didn’t tweeze, waxed, polished and buffed herself to perfection just so she could be turned away. She didn’t even want to think about the damage her first pair of stilettos was doing to her calves right now or how her new bra had her breasts sitting beneath her chin. Tonight, she was a woman on a mission.
“You know me, Marcus. I’m sure it would be okay if you let me in.”
“Is this going to take all night?” A woman snapped.
Joey checked her temper and stepped aside.
Marcus scanned then list and then with a wide smile allowed the woman to enter. However, when he returned his attention to Joey, his lips curved downward. “Can’t do it. You know the rules.”
Joey’s heart dropped and tangled with the knots in her stomach. “What’s it going to take to get you to look the other way?” she asked with desperation seeping into her voice.
As quick as a whip, a lustful leer sparkled in Marcus’s eyes and caught her off guard. Joey fluttered a hand to cover the top of her plunging neckline. She wasn’t that desperate. “I meant how much money?”
Disappointment blanketed the bouncer’s chiseled granite features, but Joey still detected interest.
“What you got?”
Joey snapped open her purse, which was only large enough to hold her ID, a tube of lipstick and a lousy ten-dollar bill.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Marcus asked when she slipped the folded bill into his hand.
“C’mon. It’s all I have.”
“I don’t think so.” He boldly slipped the money between her breasts. “You know the rules.”
Joey slapped his hand away and stabbed him with a narrow glare. Yet, as she turned away, her mind raced with alternative ways to get into the building. Laurence was inside, and she had to talk him out of breaking up with her--with as much dignity as possible, of course.
#
“Ryan, my man. You came.” Fredrick Benson’s loud thunderous voice boomed over the Blue Diamond’s bass-thumping music.
Ryan winced as his friend’s heavy
hand pounded across his back and threatened to dislodge a lung. “A promise is a promise,” he chuckled, and drained the rest of his drink.
Freddie, a giant of a man at six-foot-six, earned the nickname of Cool Freddie for being that--cool. Nothing ever ruffled Freddie’s feathers, and he liked nothing more than being the life of the party.
“Well, it’s good to see money and fame hasn’t changed you.” Fredrick took another whack at Ryan’s back. “Of course, I can’t say the same for my older brother, Larry--the cosmetic surgeon to the stars.” Freddie shook his head. “Trust me. It’s all gone to his head. You should see the number he showed up with here tonight. The girl doesn’t have breasts, she has flotation devices.”
“I’m guessing they’re still great to stare at,” Ryan snickered and puffed on his cigar.
“True that. True that,” Freddie agreed with a wide, spreading grin. “Are you cool, or should I have one of the girls get you another drink?”
“I’m cool.” Ryan cast another glance around the crowded dance floor and placed his empty glass on a passing waitress’s tray. “But where’s the john? I have a few minutes to kill before Zach gets here.”
“More business?”
Ryan cocked a sly grin. “Like Biggie said--”
“More money, more problems.” Freddie joined in and laughed. “The closest set of restrooms is down past the first bar.”
“Roger that.” Ryan slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“You got it.”
Ryan turned and dropped his smile as he navigated through a throng of dancing people. The Blue Diamond, heavy on stylish design, was a sizable nightclub, and incorporated three distinct areas into one nighttime destination. The first section was a smoke-free, Asian-inspired lounge with a full bar and an elevated DJ station. Next was the dance floor, Jam, a technological whirlwind of twenty-five flat-screen televisions and explosive colors powered by a kinetic lightning system.
The last section was a lush courtyard, which provided an opportunity for an open-air stroll in a Japanese-style garden surrounded by a giant frog pond lined with wooden benches.
However, life in the fast lane no longer impressed Ryan. He’d seen too many people get caught up with the drinking, the women and the drugs. Sure, once upon a time he was footloose and fancy-free, but that was a synonym for being young and stupid.
“Hey, baby. Wanna dance?”
Ryan stalled at the feel of a woman’s hand pressed against his arm. He glanced down at the young girl with too much makeup and was certain she was a few years shy of the club’s requirement age of twenty-one.
“I don’t think so.” Ryan said, and then watched the young lady’s gaze drag over him. Undoubtedly, the lady’s mental calculator tallied in his expensive clothes and tasteful grade of bling.
“Are you sure?” She inched closer, pursing her lips into a perfect pout. “I know how to show you a good time.”
He flashed a sly smile. “How old are you?”
“Why? Do you want to being my daddy?”
He glanced at his watch. “You better get home. I think it’s way past your curfew.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Asshole.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.” Ryan turned. At the bar, he extinguished his cigar and plowed ahead. Despite a crowd milling outside the restroom doors, Ryan was relieved to see only one patron inside checking out his reflection in the mirror.
“What’s up?” the short Italian asked in a thick accent.
“Nothin’. Just chillin’,” Ryan responded, injecting the right amount of street cred into his voice before heading over to a fancy stone waterfall that functioned as a urinal.
“This place is crawling with hot ladies.” The Italian popped his collar. “It’s impossible for a brother not to score in this place.”
Ryan snickered and held back from pointing out the truth to the man was not a brother. Instead, he finished his business, zipped up, and headed over to the sinks.
The Italian finished obsessing over his hair and gave himself a wink in the mirror. “I’m going in.” He turned for the door.
“You get ‘em, tiger,” Ryan chuckled, squirting soap into his hand. As he washed up, he practiced his pitch to Zach. “Be firm, be direct, and don’t let Miramax talk you into doing some silly romantic comedy in Italy.”
Ryan drew a deep breath and stared at his reflection. With any luck, he could make this deal and be home and in bed by midnight.
Tap. Tap.
What is that? He glanced around and frowned.
Tap. Tap.
Ryan’s gaze zoomed toward a high bathroom window above one of the stalls. Suddenly it opened and a pair of silver stilettos emerged. Stunned yet amused, Ryan folded his arms to watch. At the sight of long, toned, pecan-colored legs, Ryan’s blood stirred.
“Damn it. I’m stuck.” The woman grunted, and then wiggled her rump to try to squeeze through.
“And I thought I’d seen everything.” Chuckling, Ryan headed toward the pair of gorgeous legs and refrained from touching them to see if they were as soft as they look; but something else soon caught his attention and he smiled. “Need help?”
The woman stopped wiggling.
“Ma’am?”
“Uh, are you looking up my dress?”
Ryan pulled his gaze away from the lacy white panties and lied, “Of course not.”
The woman huffed, wiggled and then after a long pause asked, “Can you please help me? I can’t move, and I think I’m losing the feeling in my hip.”
Ryan entered the stall and could only think to stand up on the toilet to reach the damsel in distress. Even then, he wasn’t sure of what part to grab or hold. He reached and then stopped to contemplate the situation--even wondered if this was some paparazzi setup.
“Can you please hurry? I’d hate to die like this.”
“I take it there was something wrong with using the front door?” Ryan settled on placing his hands beneath a part of her butt--a nice, firm butt to be exact¾and lifted her upward.
“What are you doing?” the woman yelled.
“Wait, let me just pull--”
“Stop, stop,” the woman panted. “You’re going to snap me in half!”
Ryan stopped and reassessed the situation.
“I don’t think lifting me is going to work.”
“You don’t say,” Ryan griped. “Maybe I should go and get the manager.”
“No. No.” Panic melded into the woman’s voice. “We can do this?”
Ryan chuckled. “I take it you’re not supposed to be here?”
“Gee. I bet you were the smartest in your class.”
Ryan frowned. “You know, I think it’s a rule somewhere not to insult the person who’s trying to help you.”
The woman huffed a frustrated breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” Ryan smiled and again averted his gaze from the woman’s Victoria’s Secrets. “So what should we do next?”
“I don’t know. You have a better view of this.”
“A damn good one,” he chuckled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why don’t I just...”
Before Ryan could react, the woman’s sleek legs wrapped around his neck in a Chinese scissor hold.
“...do this and you lean back and pull me through.”
This was one for the record books, Ryan thought. How many men could boast about meeting a woman’s crotch before being introduced?
“Okay. Now, pull.”
Ryan obliged before there was damage to his air supply, and to his great relief and surprise, the woman’s rump cleared the small windowsill. However, a toilet seat wasn’t an ideal spot for a game of tug-of-war. Immediately after his great heave, he and the mystery woman were suspended in air for an eternity before their big crash against the linoleum floor.
“Oomph.” Every ounce of air flew out of Ryan’s body.
“
Oh, my God. Are you all right?”
“I think...I’m paralyzed,” Ryan croaked beneath a mass of legs and white panties.
The door squeaked open and Jay-Z’s rap lyrics bounced off the bathroom’s natural acoustics.
“Damn, man,” A voice boomed. “Get a room.” The door slammed shut behind the patron’s dramatic exit.
“Oh, good grief.” The woman scrambled off Ryan’s chest.
The sudden rush of oxygen to Ryan’s brain made him dizzy, and he still had serious reservations about whether he could get off the floor. However, that was nothing compared to the tricks his eyes played on him as he gazed up at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Hot damn. I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Chapter 4
“Ryan Donovan?” Joey brushed her hair back from her eyes and then blinked in surprise. “My God. It is you.” She took his hand and shook it. I’m such a big fan of your work.” She scrambled for her purse, and swore when she glanced inside. “I don’t have any of my business cards. Oh, I know.” She grabbed an ink pen, took his hand and sprawled her contact information across the palm of his hand. “My name is Joey Adams and I’m a screenwriter.”
Despite the pain, he smiled. “Nice to meet you, Joey.”
“What are you doing here?” she gushed.
“Oh, just lying here reminiscing on the days when I could feel the lower part of my body. Good times.”
“Ohmigosh. I’m so sorry.” Joey scooped an arm beneath his back. “C’mon, let me try and help you up.”
“Uh, I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.” However, his words fell on deaf ears as Joey tugged and pulled on his arms. Grudgingly, he sat up before she wrenched his arm out its socket.
“See, you’re going to be all right,” she panted, propping him against a stall door. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“What fingers?” Ryan joked with a sly smile and then drank in her beauty. Her wide, warm chestnut-colored eyes sparkled and he salivated at the sight of her full, kissable lips.
“Are you all right?” Joey studied him. “You didn’t crack your skull, did you? Maybe I should go get the manager?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Ryan attempted to stand but was stunned when the room tilted sideways. He reached for Joey as gravity overpowered him; but she proved just as unstable on those high stilts masquerading as shoes, and they landed with another splat on the linoleum.
When You Were Mine (Adams Sisters) Page 2