It’s nothing I haven’t already seen, Abel.
I could hear him rushing around his apartment, things falling down, and cursing in the background. The door flew open and it was him.
Happy and dimples deep.
“Sorry for just dropping by, but—”
“Don’t be sorry. Just come in,” he said, holding the door open for me.
My eyes scanned around the studio apartment, the Murphy bed still open from being slept on and wrinkled covers on top. It was about the size of his bathroom in his old apartment, but this was all decorated by him.
“I know,” he said, shrugging and shaking his head. “It’s not as nice as the last one, but this one is all mine.”
“I think it’s great,” I said. “I, um, brought you a housewarming gift.”
I held out the large Mason jar to him, the insides stacked full of dandelions. It wasn’t an easy feat collecting all of them on such short notice, but when I told Callie what I wanted to do, she brought in reinforcements: Aaron and Delilah.
“I figured we could all use more wishes, right?” I said.
He looked at the jar, turning it over in his hands. “It’s a good thing,” he said, lifting his blue eyes to meet mine. “I’d lost all of mine.”
“I read your book,” I said, patting the envelope. “I almost don’t want to give it back to you.”
“You don’t have to. I don’t know why you’d want to keep it because—”
“It was amazing. I loved it, and I want to keep it because I’m so proud you wrote it.”
He didn’t ask, and I didn’t mind because I was finally ready. He set the jar down on the floor before he pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me. My head found the familiar place on his chest I loved, and I leaned right against it.
“I have a question, handsome.”
He kissed the top of my head. “What’s that, beautiful?”
“What happens now?”
He pulled away, one arm still wrapped around me. “You’ll have to turn the page to find out.”
Turn the page to read an excerpt from the first book in Melissa Marino’s Bad Behavior series.
So Twisted
Available Now!
Chapter One
CALLIE—
Is anyone else getting a wedgie from these damn things?” I shouted to the other females I was working with. I hurried to the other end of the bar as I adjusted my hot-pink bloomers that were under my extra short patent leather skirt. Our new uniforms were about as functional as wet toilet paper.
“Hey beautiful, how long does a guy have to wait to get a drink around here?” I turned and saw a barely legal guy at the other end of the bar, clearly not needing another cocktail.
Luckily, the DJ had decided that was the perfect time to crank the music, and like that, the cries of the drunken were silenced.
It was eleven o’clock and the night was young. The bar was packed, which was good for my bank account, but bad for my dignity. Every hour that went by at Venom, the downtown Chicago club I bartended at that catered to the newly twenty-one crowd, lowered the IQ of my customers.
“What can I get you?” I asked the dude heckling me.
He leaned in. “You can get me a double vodka, sexy.”
“Is that it?” I said, making his drink.
“No,” he slurred. He leaned in further, practically drooling over himself. “You can get me your phone number.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, sweetie. I don’t date customers.”
“Who said anything about dating? I just want to see that skirt on my bedroom floor in the morning.”
“Ain’t gonna happen. Anything else?” I said, handing him his drink.
“Yeah, I want those shiny, knee-high boots wrapped around…”
I cut him off before I could hear the rest. “Twelve dollars.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of crushed bills. He picked out a few and handed them to me. Something was crunchy in that wad of cash. Something damp, too. I wanted to vomit.
“There’s more where this came from,” he said with a wink.
Fuck my life.
“Wait just a second,” Frat Boy Slim babbled. “You look familiar.”
“Probably because you’re looking right at me. Crazy how the mind works, huh?”
I attempted to step away, knowing that continuing a conversation with this guy would be as enjoyable as a two-day-old pulled pork sandwich that had been soaking in curdled milk, but he wouldn’t let up.
“Wait!” he said, jumping and spilling half his vodka on his pink Lacoste shirt. “Aren’t you in that um…math class…the one for teachers with me?”
“Mathematics in elementary school?” I asked.
He snapped his fingers at me. “Yes! That’s the one. I knew I recognized you from someplace.”
There was seriously no hope for our future if this was the kind of moron teaching our children.
“That must be it,” I said. “Okay, then. I have to get back to work.”
“Hold up. Do you live off campus? No way you still live in the dorms.”
“No. I don’t live in the dorms because I’m too old for that shit, and I only go part-time. Anything else?”
“Pfft,” he spit, waving his arm around. “You ain’t old. You can’t be older than twenty-four or so.”
I touched my nose, letting him know he got it right. “Einstein.”
He nodded and snorted simultaneously. “Yeah. I’m pretty smart. And I think you are, too, so why don’t you just tell me what time you get off so I can get you off?”
I wasn’t sure if it was my disgusted look or the distraction of having a drink thrown in his face by the girl standing behind him who was listening to our conversation, but like magic, he disappeared.
I rubbed my temples, feeling the pain of a headache coming on. “Fuck my life,” I said aloud before placing a smile on my face as fake as the skirt I was wearing before I approached the next customer. “Hey there. What can I get you?”
By the end of the evening—actually three o’clock in the morning—I was totally spent. As I walked out the back door, I stopped and unzipped my knee-high boots with the four-inch heels. I crossed the parking lot barefoot, and even though it was March in Chicago, the feel of the icy ground numbed my aching feet. After getting into my car and waiting a few minutes for it to heat up, I drove home. The streets were empty except for a few drunken stragglers, their arms draped over a new friend who will soon be a lover or maybe even an old lover who was never a friend. It hardly mattered which one it was because I was jealous all the same. Logically I knew half of them would be alone by morning, but for the night, they had someone close. They had deep kisses and warm bodies. All I had was hot chocolate and Garrett’s Popcorn waiting for me at home.
Exhaustion hit me the moment I began the climb up the stairs to my apartment. My head pounded with pain, and every muscle in my legs screamed for rest. I dropped everything, except my phone, at the front door and dragged myself to the couch, where I collapsed. My bed would’ve been much more comfortable, but my room might as well have been a mile away at that point. I had just enough sense to set the alarm on my phone for seven a.m. so I had time in the morning for a quick shower before class. Hot chocolate and popcorn was going to have to wait.
* * *
I heard voices but refused to open my eyes. It would be admitting morning had arrived, and that couldn’t be possible when I had just closed my eyes. The faint sound of my alarm grew louder and louder as I continued to deny the time.
Strong steps against our hardwood floors approached me, but then stopped abruptly and reversed. With a sigh, I peeled my eyelids open—which were stuck together from the glue of my false eyelashes and leftover makeup I hadn’t bothered to wash off. I slapped my alarm off and cursed the sun for being, well, the sun.
“What is your problem?” Evelyn said, her voice raising. “I thought you were leaving.”
“Someone is on you
r couch. A woman, and she’s in her underwear,” an unfamiliar man’s voice answered.
“Will you knock it off? I told you I had fun and that I’d text you later,” Evelyn said.
“It was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “So, see you later.”
“But what about the girl in her underwear?” he asked.
“I’m not in my underwear,” I shouted, opening my eyes.
Evelyn’s head popped out of her bedroom door. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely not underwear.”
A tall blond guy wearing a wrinkled white button-down and blue pants turned. He gave a quick nod and side smile, clearly hiding his embarrassment over his mistake.
“Hey there,” he said, swinging a suit jacket over his shoulder. “I was just—”
“Leaving,” Evelyn said, nudging him.
Evelyn’s one-hit wonder began his walk of shame, but stopped in front of me. His eyes drifted down my body, stopping at my skirt.
“Yes?” I asked, sitting up.
His head tilted and he smiled. “You work at Venom?”
“For shit’s sake,” I said, standing and stomping to my room.
The last thing I heard before getting into the shower was Evelyn telling him he was an inconsiderate jackass with a small dick.
I love that girl.
While I was normally not a morning person, I was even less so when I’d only had three hours of sleep. I practically cried through my five-minute shower, but when the smell of coffee hit me, my spirits lifted slightly. When I came out of the bathroom, in my ratty robe and hair up in a towel, there was a cup waiting for me on the counter in the kitchen. She even put the right amount of my favorite peppermint mocha creamer in it.
I sat at the kitchen table, going through my class notes, when Evelyn came out of her room and breezed into the kitchen like the breath of fresh air she always was. Her long blond hair was curled into perfect waves, while her cream-colored blouse was tucked neatly into her black pencil skirt. I was lucky if I managed to leave the house wearing matching shoes.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I said, yawning.
“No problem,” she said, slipping on her black heels. “Everything good?”
I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“You sure?”
I set my notes down and looked at her. She was nervously biting down on her lower lip, messing up her red lipstick. Something was up. She never ruined her lipstick unless she was nervous (which she hardly ever was) or she was getting lucky with a dude (which happened on a fairly regular basis).
I stood and crossed the kitchen. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Evelyn said.
I rolled my eyes at her as I poured myself another cup of coffee. “You’re a terrible liar.”
She twirled a lock of her hair and pressed her lips together tightly. “I’m worried about you.”
“Worried about what?”
“Cal, you can’t keep working like this.” She moved and stood in front of me. “You’re so exhausted between working these late hours and with school.”
I took a sip and shrugged. “I don’t have a choice right now. At least I’m not working two jobs anymore.”
We had this conversation so many times before, and while I knew it only came from a place of concern, my situation wasn’t by choice. Sometimes I wondered if she realized that.
“Look, you’re sweet to worry, but we’ve been through this already. My student loans are through the roof, and while I know I can defer, it’ll be more of an issue in the end. If I thought I could still pay rent and everything else by any other means besides bartending, I would, but that isn’t happening. I’m just taking a larger course load now so I can finish next year.”
She took hold of my hands. “Look, I was thinking I could ask Bridget if you could do some help around the office. With the wedding season coming…”
I shook my head. “Me, working for wedding planners? Seriously? Plus, I’d still be making more a few nights a week at Venom. The money is too good.”
“I’m not trying to piss you off,” she said. “I think that…”
I pulled my wet hair back, looking up at the ceiling to blink away the tears. “Ev. Please,” I pleaded.
“Oh,” she said, putting her arms around me. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be sad.”
I sighed and put my coffee cup down so I could hug her back. “You worry too much.”
She shrugged when we pulled away. “Sometimes, although worrying is usually your specialty. But I know how hard you work, both with school and the bar, and I love you so stupid.”
“I know. I love you, too, Blondie.”
“I have to run.” She walked over to the table and picked up her purse. “See you later?”
“Probably not. Work tonight.”
Work. Work. Work.
* * *
I sat at a café by campus, the late afternoon sun glaring off the table’s surface, reviewing material from my earlier class. I was on my third coffee of the day, but while the caffeine from my triple-shot latte was giving me just enough energy to keep my head up, it wouldn’t last. My eyelids burned, and there was a serious nap in my future if I got everything done before work.
I returned to my notes but was interrupted when my phone rang. I dug it out of my purse, checking the caller ID. EVELYN.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Hey, are you busy? I’ve got some news I think you might be interested in.”
“Studying. Something going on?”
“Okay. Before I tell you anything, you have to promise me you won’t get mad first.”
“Why would I be mad?”
“I can’t tell you that. You might get mad.”
I put my pen down and took a sip of my latte. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“So, you’re promising not to be mad?” she asked.
I didn’t like where this was headed. Evelyn only asked me not to be mad at her when she did something I told her specifically not to do. The last time she pulled the “promise you won’t be mad at me” bit, she came home with a ridiculously expensive handbag I’d admired when we were shopping together.
I knew I had to give in if I was ever going to find out what she was up to. “Okay, I promise I won’t get mad. Tell me.”
“I think I found you a job.”
“Huh?”
“Hear me out. Okay, a few days ago I was at the office, and a client, Leslie Matthews, came in. She’s hosting an event for the Junior League of Chicago. While we really don’t do party planning, just weddings, Bridget does this yearly event for promotional purposes. I got to talking to Mrs. Matthews, and she was telling me she was having knee replacement surgery in a few months.”
I yawned. “Uh-huh.”
“She told me she was worried because her son, Aaron, who’s a single dad, really depends on her for when he’s working. I met him at last year’s event and recognized him as an owner of some of the clubs and boutique hotels we do weddings at. Anyway, he’s looking for full-time help since Mrs. Matthews is going to be out of commission.”
She paused, waiting for a response, but I had none.
I sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. Come on, Evelyn, spit it out, I have a nap waiting for me.
“Okayyyyy,” I said. “Are you getting to the point?”
“Yes! Aaron needs a nanny, a live-in nanny,” she said.
I thought for a second before responding. “This is really fascinating, Evelyn. I hope you alerted the Tribune to this development.”
“Am I talking too fast for you?” She paused and sighed. “You could be his nanny.”
“What? Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you can live in his house, which is amazing, rent-free and make more than what you’re making at Venom.”
I tapped my fingers on the table as I processed what she said. It wasn’t totally crazy, considering I’d worked for several families over the years as a nanny and was studying to be a teacher. Plus, when my
father died, my mom had to work multiple jobs, leaving me to care for my two younger sisters.
“Okay, okay, I know what you’re thinking.” She interrupted my thoughts. “I know you too well not to know that you’re considering all the what-ifs, but seriously I think this could really go your way. Today, on the way to work, it just popped in my head. So, I called Mrs. Matthews, and long story short, I told her all about you, that you were an education major, still in school, and had been a nanny in the past. She got in touch with Aaron and he was thrilled. Remember when you had asked me to help you with your résumé a while back? I still had it on my computer so I sent it to him.”
“You did what?” My voice soared an octave.
“He emailed me and asked if you were available for an interview tonight at seven. I said yes.”
“Evelyn!”
“Nope. No getting mad remember?”
I could almost hear her smiling on the other end, proud of herself for putting this plan all together. If I was being honest, it did sound appealing. I loved working with kids; it was the whole reason I wanted to be a teacher. Plus, the idea of making more money so I could quit the hellish hours of working nights lightened the weight on my back.
“I don’t know, Ev. What about my hours during the day for school and the rent for our place? There’s a lot of things to consider.”
“He knows you’re still in school. I was clear with him about your need for flexibility. And as far as our rent, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Was this something I could do? Was it something I wanted to do? I ran through a bunch of variables, considering worst-case scenarios and all the reasons why this probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Evelyn was quiet, knowing I was processing it all. The possibilities were too enticing. An interview with this guy wouldn’t hurt.
“First,” I said. “Thank you. Second, I’m definitely interested, but I have to be at work at six, so I don’t think I can meet him tonight.”
“Callie, this is a huge opportunity for you. I think Venom will survive if you’re a couple hours late.”
She was right. If this played out as desirable as it sounded, I could throw my patent leather skirt in the Dumpster of that dreaded bar. “What should I do now? Should I call him to confirm?”
So Screwed Page 29