High Stakes

by Lory Wendy

  “You’re his grandma?” I bark out a laugh before I can stop it. The withering looks she’s giving him and the way he’s cowering under the weight of her stare is priceless. When we met at the restaurant, it never dawned on me they were related.

  “Don’t mind me!” The older man waves a hand in the air and looks between Miss Mae and Julian’s retreating form. “I’ll just stand here, like a big old log, and wait for someone to introduce me. No problem.”

  “Don’t you start your belly aching.” She points a wrinkly finger at him with no trace of annoyance on her face or in her voice. “Selena” —she puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me forward— “this is Julian’s grandpop.”

  “Pop is just fine.” He winks, grabbing one of my hands with both of his.

  “You better watch it.” Miss Mae’s voice is taunting and playful. “Or I’ll tell Julian you were acting sweet on his girl. Now, why don’t you go make yourself useful and go check on the boys? Tell them they can kill each other after they bring me my pies.”

  Pop hobbles away with a stern look about him. I assume it’s because he’s walking with purpose to go reprimand his grandson, but before he can get too far, I hear the unmistakable muttering of, “Fresh woman always giving me orders. I’ll show you useful when we get home tonight.”

  I love them.

  It takes a while for the guys to come back. I’ve had enough time to help Miss Mae with her table set up, drank at least two different flavored sodas offered to us by the table to our right, and had some idle chitchat about the warm weather.

  “Is everything okay?” I rush to Quincy’s side when I see the guys come back. Though they walked back all happy smiles and jokes, I want to make sure there was no bloodshed between him and Julian. I never understood how guys could bounce back so quickly.

  “Of course.”

  “Set them right here,” Miss Mae orders Quincy around. He obliges with a smile, clearly used to it.

  “All good?” Julian wraps an arm around my waist.

  Leaning into his side, I nod. “Great.”

  “So… what do you want to do first?” he asks, whipping his head around. “Grandma, when’s the parade?”

  The rest of the day proceeds in a vicious cycle that’s part annoying and part amusing. Whenever Julian takes a step away from the booth, Miss Mae and Pop are all over me about how great Julian is. And whenever Julian’s within two feet of me, they clam up and he’s so affectionate it makes it hard to remember I’m still mad at him.

  By the time exhaustion threatens to consume me, the sun’s slowly faded, but I’m too deliriously giddy from the day to dwell on it.

  “Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” Julian asks.

  I snap my head forward and continue walking. I hadn’t realized I was in such a dead stare with his profile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Right.” I hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s go back and find my grandparents. I need you to stay with them while I go take care of something.”

  My stomach clenches, that knotty feeling of dread settling deep. “You’re leaving?”

  “Not in that way. Relax.” He tugs on my hand.

  I don’t budge. “In what way then?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “And what makes you think I like surprises?”

  “Who doesn’t like surprises?”

  True.

  “Fine.” I march ahead of him, back in the direction of the booth marked “Josephine’s.”

  I’m helping Miss Mae and doing my best not to appear uneasy or uninterested in anything she’s saying, but she keeps looking over my shoulder. Just as I’m about to ask her if everything is okay, I hear the sound of a saxophone playing.

  “Where’s that coming from?”

  Miss Mae’s hands are already on my shoulders, turning me around. The crowd parts slightly, and my jaw drops at the sight of Julian on the stage. More importantly, at what he’s holding.

  No fucking way.

  His eyes are closed, fingers moving effortlessly over the golden instrument. There’s a small sway in his shoulders, and I’m moving toward the small stage before I realize it, swaying along with him. Next to him stands Pop. Some other guys are there too. They’re all in control—each holding their instruments with a reverence only a lover can, but it’s clear Julian’s in the lead. It’s his show. His world. The rest of us are just trying to live in it right now. He opens his eyes, which immediately find mine, staring deep at me—within me—I can’t deny what I know, what I feel.

  The chords fade into a different tune.

  Pop and the rest of the guys take charge into something livelier.

  The crowd cheers for the song I don’t recognize.

  Someone bumps into me from the force of their excitement.

  But I’m still rooted in place, waiting, trying to catch my breath, watching as Julian weaves his way through the crowd. His focus is on only me, and mine on him. He’s here now, right in front of my face. His smile is blinding and eyes unsure.

  “That was… amazing.” I don’t recognize my voice. Am I panting?

  Then my lips are on his, and his arms find my waist. The hug, his embrace, it’s almost too tight and uncomfortable but welcome. And I don’t even care how ridiculous we look right now—in the middle of this festival, this crowd, with families watching, and his grandma somewhere only feet away.

  “Wow.” The kiss, the playing, him bringing me here, showing me this side of him… “wow” almost doesn’t seem like enough, but it’s all I have. “I love this. I love… everything about this,” I whisper, too scared to say anything else. “Thank you for bringing me here and for showing me this.”

  “I’m just a guy.” He hugs me tight. “I’m a guy who fucks up a lot and misses his mom all the time and hangs out with his grandparents more than he’ll ever admit. I’m just a guy falling in love with you. I had to show you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “My grandmother loves you.” Julian smiles into my shoulder. Though it’s flattering to hear, this is so not the time to bring up his grandma.

  “Can we not talk about Miss Mae while I’m laying half-naked in your bed?”

  “Half-naked? When the hell did you get dressed?” He rears back and yanks away the sheets.

  “When you went into the bathroom.” I pull the covers back over me, snuggling in. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here.”

  “I never understood that saying, but speaking of cold tits.” He pulls me to him, rubbing my back.

  “Shut up.” I smack his shoulder then curl into his side, humming at his warmth.

  “Why would you put on just pants?”

  I shrug. “It’s just a weird habit I guess.”

  “What other weird habits should I know about?”

  “I don’t know if I have weird habits. Just… regular habits.”

  “Like what?” He sits back, smiling too wide and excited for such a mundane conversation.

  “You are way too into this conversation.”

  “I’m just trying to get to know you.”

  I blink. “Still?”

  “What do you mean still?”

  “I mean… what I mean is I think you know me well enough now.”

  “There are always new things to learn though.”

  “True.” I widen my eyes. “Like who knew you played an instrument? That was super-hot by the way.” I make an exaggerated show of licking my lips.

  “Glad you liked it.”

  “How long have you been playing?”

  He hums, looking off into the distance. “I don’t know exactly. On and off since I was around ten?”

  I nod encouragingly, hoping he’ll continue. “Who taught you?”

  “Pops mostly.”

  “No way!”

  Julian nods. “Yeah, he and my mom figured if I was focused on an instrument or sports or had hobbies it would keep me out of trouble. Little did they know, right?”

>   I frown at his sad smile. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.” He grabs a hold of my hand.

  “What happened to your mom? I mean I know she died,” I clarify quickly. “And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but if you ever want to talk about her, I’m here.”

  The skin between his eyes pucker, I smooth them out with the tips of my fingers. “Don’t think so hard. Just whatever you want to tell me, and whenever, no pressure.”

  Time seems to tick by slowly as I let him mull over whether he wants to tell me more. On the nightstand, my phone flashes a few times, but I ignore it. Whoever is texting me can wait.

  “Thank you for taking me today. I know it meant a lot to you, so it meant a lot to me too.”

  My words and his thankful grin break up some of the tension that had started to form in the air.

  “It was my mom’s thing. When she was in school, all the girls went out for ‘Miss Juneteenth.’ Apparently, it was a big deal and the fact she won two years in a row was an even bigger deal.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s not fooling anyone. This is a proud memory for him. “She never stopped being involved, never stopped trying to give back to the community. Even when she had nothing to give, she found a way.”

  “She sounds amazing.”

  “She was. Everyone loved her. She was a really good mom, too. I was just a shitty son.”

  “I’m sure she’d disagree.”

  “When she got sick,” he continues, disregarding my comment. “The committee did a fundraiser just for her. To pay her hospital bills and” —he clears his throat— “and for me and my sister, because that was all my mom worried about—what were her kids going to do after she died? I promised myself that if I ever had the chance, I would pay them back.”

  Today showed me that mission has been accomplished. “And you have.”

  “I try.”

  I crawl over him and rest my head on his chest, right over his heart. His heartbeat pounds against my ear, but in this moment, I decide it’s my favorite sound in the world. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

  “It’s because it senses you near.”

  I snort. “Cornball.”

  “Yeah right, you love when I say shit like that.”

  “I do.” I kiss the skin on his chest. My favorite spot right below the N of his tattoo. My head rises and falls with each movement of his chest.

  “My sister handled it the worst. Got herself into all kinds of trouble.”

  I lift my head to look at him. He doesn’t speak about his sister much and I can’t help but wonder why. “Are you guys close at all?”

  “Not really. She’s a few years younger than me and thinks I’m too overprotective.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be?”

  “That’s what I tell her.”

  “I’d love to meet her,” I whisper, feeling vulnerable at the thought. I’ve met his grandparents, which I know is important, but something tells me meeting his sister is the real battle.

  “You will.”

  “Just tell her I know what it’s like to be the little sister.” My heart cracks slightly at the thought of mine, but I push it away. “Anyway, tell me more?”

  My eyes close as the hum of his whispers and the beat of his heart create its own unique lullaby. He share’s little snippets about both his mom—whose name was Josephine, just like the restaurant—and his sister, giving me enough to appreciate them, but still holds back in a way that doesn’t give away any of their secrets. Eventually, the conversation circles back to his mother’s death, bringing with it nothing but sadness and regret in his tone.

  “By the time I got back in town and before those fundraisers, she’d gotten really sick, really fast and no one knew why. After she died, my grandmother told me that one of the reasons my mother took so long to go see a doctor was because of money.” He spits out the word. “Can you believe that shit? After that, I knew if I ever had the chance to make sure my family was taken care of, that I would do whatever it takes.”

  A lump forms in my throat at the severity of his words. I know where this conversation is heading. It’s where almost all of our conversations since my birthday have landed.

  “Listen, there’s something you should probably know—”

  My phone buzzing, again, on the nightstand interrupts him.

  I reach for my phone to shut it off and roll my eyes at the name I didn’t expect. Now she wants to text me? Her ears must have been ringing like they say it does when someone’s thinking or talking about you.

  “What is it?” Julian asks.

  “Blaire just asked me when I’ll be home.”

  “I didn’t realize you guys were talking again.”

  “We’re not.” We haven’t seen or spoken to each other since Vegas. First, because I needed some space and didn’t want to talk to her. More recently she’s the one that’s been giving me nothing but radio silence. There’s no telling how long this cycle’s going to go on. “She still has the key. She probably wants to know if I’m here, that way if I am, she won’t come here or something like that.”

  He doesn’t say anything else as his eyes glaze over. For a moment, he looks very far away, here only in body.

  “Where’d you go?” I cup his cheek, forcing him to look at me.

  “Nowhere,” he answers quietly. “I was just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “You.”

  “You’re thinking about me even though I’m lying right here next to you—well, underneath you, I should say?”

  His small smile barely flinches his face. Rolling over, he repositions us on the bed then he kisses my shoulder. “Now you’re underneath me.”

  It’s a cute moment, shrouded by something else, something is in the air I can taste but can’t really name. “Seriously, what were you thinking about just now?”

  “Us.”

  “What about us?”

  “Mostly about how much you mean to me, and how deep it cuts me to see you hurting.”

  I melt a little at his words.

  “I hate knowing I helped caused some of the beef between you and your sister because I… by what I told you. But there’s more. In Vegas, when you asked—”

  “Please let’s not,” I beg, wrapping my arms around his neck. We have talked about it to death. I just want us to move on. Today was… all the good from today kicked Vegas’s ass. I’m over it. “I’m okay with what you do.”

  “Are you really?”

  Not totally, but I’m done talking about it, that’s for sure.

  Leaning down, he brushes his lips softly against mine, letting the rest of his body weight fall on me. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

  “Eww.” I wrinkle my nose, hiding my face in the pillow.

  “I’m serious.”

  I feel his lips smile against my neck, then a flicker of something soft and warm playing at my flesh.

  I moan, my legs quick to open in response, and throw the pillow away from me. Wanting him, needing him. “Julian,” I beg.

  Leaning back, he smirks then drops a kiss on my stomach, then another one an inch or so lower, then a little lower…

  “Just lay back.”

  A loud ring from the other side of the bed catches us off guard enough to stop us.

  “What the fuck?” Julian snatches his pants from the floor.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask after he continues staring at his phone.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, who is it?”

  “It’s… Rocky.” He sets the phone down, pulling the covers back over us.

  I let him cuddle into my side and accept his goodnight kiss with a forced smile.

  I don’t know what that was, but it’s clear Julian just lied to me.

  Chapter Thirty

  The smell of smoke and dust burns at my eyes and scratches my throat. “Where’s that coming from?”

  “What?” Julian asks with a sleep-heavy voice.

&nbs
p; “Don’t you smell that?”

  “Smell what?”

  “Is someone smoking?”

  “Fuck!” The bed shakes as he jumps off. Through my sleepy haze, I see him head toward my bedroom door. Then his hand swings back with a curse. “Shit. We have to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Get the fuck up. Now!” he roars, jabbing his legs through his pants.

  “What the hell?” I sit up, trying to battle away from the remnants of sleep and confusion. “Who are you talking to like that?”

  “Cut the shit, Selena. We don’t have time for this.” He tosses clothes at me. “Throw this on. Get up.”

  “What’s your problem?”

  Pulling on my arm, he yanks the door open, but we only get about two steps from my bedroom before an inferno stops us. Ten feet tall, orange and red flames make their way up the wall and to the ceiling of our living room and block our path to outside.

  A scream rips from deep inside me, though for a second, I’m convinced I’m still sleeping and this is a terrible nightmare.

  “Shit.” Julian pulls us back and slams the door closed. “The window. I need to break the window.”

  “Oh my God, the house!”

  “Selena, focus!”

  But I can’t focus. Right now, I can barely control my breathing. “This isn’t really happening.” I pinch myself.

  The window shatters behind me, scaring me enough to elicit a scream. Cool air rushes in my room while I also feel some of the heat coming in from the other side of the door.

  “Let’s go.” Julian grabs me by the waist. I’m tumbling out of the window and into the front yard, screaming and kicking and scratching at him for dear life.

  “My house, Julian, my house!” I collapse on my driveway. This is a dream—a nightmare. It has to be. Wake up. Wake up.

  I smack Julian’s hand away when he reaches for me. I don’t need his comfort; I need him to wake me up from all of this. This isn’t happening. The mantra continues in my head, washing out whatever he’s saying in the background. This isn’t happening.