“Why don’t you have it towed here so we can check it out a little more?” She’s so sweet offering to help. I notice as she offers, she smiles a bit, but with only half of her face. It looks like the other side of her face may not cooperate due to the damage. Poor thing.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Of course.” She reaches her hand out for me to shake. It’s covered in dried oil, but I’m in no condition to think about getting my hands dirty with the way I look right now.
“I’m Sasha,” I say, shaking her hand.
“Greta,” she says. “Nice to meet you.” Greta? So this isn’t Bambi?
“Greta,” Jags says through laughter.
“Oh,” Greta says. “Jags is a little confused, don’t mind him. When he’s picking up random women in bars, he prefers to name them whatever name he would like to yell out in bed later that night. When he didn’t get lucky, he failed to ask me my real name at any point after that.”
I let her words sink in for a minute, and while I’d like to move past them, I can’t exactly do that. It’s nothing that should come as a surprise to me since I’ve heard the rumors about his track record. He hasn’t denied this reputation when I’ve brought it up to him, and I even know he tried to pick up Greta at the bar. But why did he try to pick her up if he had known her before then, and how did he not already know her name. That doesn’t make much sense to me.
“Jags said you guys had a past before you ran into each other at the bar that night,” I say, being a little ballsier than I’d normally be, but my curiosity is doing the work for my mouth.
Greta looks over at Jags and narrows her eyes at him for a brief second. “We met before, but I’m not sure I’d say we had a past. He didn’t even know my name.” This makes me wonder if they’ve had a strictly in-bed type of past. Considering Jags makes up names for women he apparently sleeps with, it would make sense.
“So,” Jags says, interrupting the conversation. “I have the number for your insurance company. Why don’t you tell them what happened and I’ll get a tow truck down to your car?”
I take the phone from Jags’s hand and walk back inside of the shop to get away from the noisy traffic. While inside, I can’t help but watch the two of them from inside the window—their interaction and the grin on Jags’s face as she says something to him with a scowl on her face. I shouldn’t be getting myself involved with someone like him, and this is why. How many reasons do I need to give myself? I know better than this. And now I’ve kissed him. And he’s a really good kisser. And that stinks. My lips won’t let me forget about that for a good while.
The on-hold music playing into my ear is like a soundtrack to what I’m still watching outside. They’re both laughing with each other, and it’s making my stomach hurt, but I don’t know why. I’m definitely not feeling jealous. I’m not with Jags, and I have no right to feel anything at all while watching him talk to another woman, a beautiful woman who has confidence and probably says dirty words. She’s obviously very nice, and that doesn’t help either.
A woman finally takes my call, and she’s asking me a million questions, but I don’t hear any of them. While Greta is fake punching Jags in the chest, I force myself to turn around and focus on the conversation and questions being shot out at me. I try to answer everything, but I don’t even know how many miles are on my car or what year I bought it. My mind doesn’t want to keep up right now.
“They’re sending a tow over right now,” Jags says, walking in through the front door. I hold my finger up, telling him to wait a minute as the insurance agent is explaining the very confusing process to me.
“What’s the address here?” I ask Jags.
By the look on his face, he doesn’t know. He runs toward the back of the room and reaches over the counter to an envelope and reads off a long address.
I give the agent the address, and she tells me an adjustor will meet me down here tomorrow. Great. No answers and no car for who knows how long.
Once I hang up the phone, Jags makes his way over to me and places his hands on my shoulders, giving me the same smile he was just giving Greta. I shrug out of his grip, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with this situation—one I’m not sure I understand fully.
“What are we doing?” I ask him.
He shoves his hands into his back pockets as a line of smugness pulls across his lips. “Well, I just saved your butt and then you wanted to kiss your Prince Charming afterward if I’m not mistaken.”
“And what are you doing with her?” I ask, sarcasm filling the depth of my words.
“Well,” he sighs. “I’m fucking her every night. I might even ask her to marry me next week. I was just sort of hoping you could be my latest fling on the side.”
I’m not amused by his joke or non-joke. I snatch my bag from the counter and walk back toward the door we originally came in from. “I’m calling a cab to take me home.”
“Home?” Jags asks, clearly enjoying this.
His question reminds me of how stuck I am right now. It’s either home to Mommy and Daddy or back to Cali and Tango’s. Why is the best option sounding like it should be to go back to my house and cross my fingers that Landon doesn’t come looking there for me? Unfortunately, from what Tango has heard, the cops let Landon go after a lot of questioning, and I wish I knew how that happened, considering Cali and I gave a statement on his actions toward me. I must not have been convincing enough. Then again, all the cops saw were two women in normal condition and a man who was beaten to a pulp by Tango and Jags, who fled the scene. How is this my life?
“That reminds me, I need to find a place to live.” I need to get a life! That should be super easy…or not.
“Well, I don’t recommend the Sawdust Motor Inn.”
The thought of staying in a motel makes my lip curl. I couldn’t, which again brings me back to my situation at hand. I have no options.
“So how about I take you to Cali and Tango’s, where I’m assuming you’ll end up staying tonight?” Jags asks.
“It’s only three. Don’t you have to stay at work?” I ask him, thinking it might be best if he stays and I go.
“Bambi…err…Greta said I could take off for the day so I could get you settled,” he says.
I want to say I’m surprised to hear that. By the looks of it, I’d think Greta would want him to stay and finish up the work day. “Oh.”
Jags reaches over and pinches at my cheek. “Are you jealous?” His lips twist into a lopsided grin as if he’s telling me he’d love to hear that I’m jealous.
“What could I be jealous about?” I retort. “I’m not yours, and you’re not mine, which means jealousy isn’t a possible factor.”
He purses his lips together in thought and scratches at the scruff of his chin. “There are exceptions to that, I believe.”
“Like what? If, say, you only wanted to get into my pants, then it would be okay for me to get jealous?” I don’t know why I just said that. I shouldn’t even put the thought into his head. “You know, back in the car, I was fooled into thinking you aren’t the person I know you really are. It’s not going to work, Jags. I’m not one of those sleazy girls who just wants to get with you and then sneak out of your bedroom twenty minutes later. I’m a lady. Men ask me out on dates and take the time to get to know me before anything else happens.” Well…men, being Landon, who’s not someone I should call a man right now. He’s a coward and a loser. Before him, I was twenty-two and still dating boys, I guess.
Jags’ smile grows wider, and it sort of infuriates me. “What is with you and needing to put a damn label on everything. Why not enjoy each moment as it comes? You could have died today, and here you are an hour later worried about the order in which your life falls. You need to loosen up, doll-face. You’re missing out on the ride.”
I find myself clutching at my purse harder than I was a moment ago. “What ride?”
“Life…this thing we do every day where we w
ake up, take a few breaths, eat some food, sometimes get lucky, and then repeat. It’s a ride. You can hang out in the slow-as-a-slug lane, or you could merge on over to the fast-as-fuck lane and feel the wind in your face and make your heart pound out of your chest. The choice is yours, but I think I’d rather show up at my grave with smoke lit up in my path.”
Who knew Jags could be so insightful. I haven’t looked at life that way. Everything has happened in a straight line for me, but I’m not sure I like the idea of falling off the curb and taking any shortcuts. “I don’t know…”
“You don’t know what?” he asks. “If you want to live?”
“No, I mean, if I want to live the way you’re suggesting.”
“I’m not suggesting you live the way I do. You should live your life the way you want to live your life, but you might get jealous when you see how much fun I have versus how lame your ways can be.” If he didn’t have his brow raised against the rest of the cockiness encompassing his face, I’d think he was being a jerk, but I don’t think he realizes he sounds kind of offensive. I don’t think he realizes he is just plain old obnoxious most of the time.
I feel like we just got completely side-tracked and distracted from what I’m trying to figure out, which is whether there is something going on between him and Greta. If there is, that’s fine, I just don’t want to be involved. Maybe I could try to live a little, but I’m not up for sharing or having a relationship only in bed.
“Well, I know I couldn’t live like you because I don’t have that many boyfriends at one time. But I suppose maybe I could try out the fast lane sometime.”
“Whoa, whoa…I don’t have multiple boyfriends. In fact, I don’t have any boyfriends.” I angle my head to the side, squinting through one eye at him. He knows what I meant. “And for the record, I don’t have many girlfriends either. I don’t have any.”
“What do you call the women you sleep with, then?”
“Women,” he laughs.
“Is that all you want with me?” I ask him.
The smile drains from his lips. His eyes pinch at the outside corners, and his brows arch inward. “I thought I just told you I like you. I’m pretty sure I even sounded like a twelve-year-old boy saying so. If all I wanted from you was sex, believe me, you’d know it by now.”
I feel the need to take a few steps back, needing space and air. Suffocation is a new sensation I’ve come to know since this whole ordeal with Landon. I feel like the world is after me and is just using me the same way Landon did. In the past, I trusted everyone in my life unless they gave me a reason not to trust them. Now I’m thinking everyone should be guilty until they prove their innocence with me. I’m obviously making Jags my first candidate for this. “That doesn’t mean your reason for liking me isn’t so you can see what’s under my clothes.”
“In all fairness, I already saw you naked, but I did like what I saw and there’s a good chance I’d like to see it again, but it’s because I like—you know what? No, forget this shit. You’re hot as hell, Sasha. I like the way you laugh, even though it’s a rare occasion when I hear it. I like the way you smile, even though that also doesn’t happen often enough. I like the fight you put up to protect yourself, and I like your stubbornness that lands you on the side of a road near a tornado.”
“You mean stupidity,” I mumble.
“Yeah, that too. That was pretty fucking dumb.”
I break my glare at him and look down at my fidgeting fingers. I was dumb and stupid for thinking I’d be okay with a busted tire. If Jags hadn’t come to get me, I would have been in a lot of trouble. Why is this man confusing me so badly? He’s so blunt about what he wants and likes, and yet I can’t make up my mind about what I feel for him. Yeah, he’s hot, and he’s funny. He’s also a manwhore, former or not; he slept around to cure boredom. “I know.”
“You know what you need to do?” Jags says suggestively.
“What?”
“You need to go pick up a random stud at a bar and have him fuck your brains out. It’ll make you feel better. Once you live through that, you’ll understand why I’ve lived the way I lived. You’ll also realize that even though you’ve screwed some random loser, you’ll still like me because you’ll realize I care about you and I’ve been doing my damnedest to make you laugh and smile…not to mention, you were willing to jerk me off in a dark bathroom when all you wanted was some toilet paper,” he says, ending his argument with a wink.
I’m pretty sure the wind has been sucked from my lungs when I realize what he just suggested. “You want me to go pick up a random guy at a bar…”
“Yes. You need to live a little.” How could he tell me he likes me and then insist that I go give myself to some man? “I’ll tell Cali to take you out some night this week. That girl needs a night out too. I’ll watch Tyler for her.”
“You’re out of your mind,” I tell him. “I can live a little without going to bed with a man I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he says. “Maybe you don’t have it in you. There’s nothing wrong with that—living life in the slow lane. You’ll get to see a lot more and watch everything zoom by you. I guess that’s a plus.”
Who is he to say I don’t have it in me? Anger is searing through my body, and maybe a little resentment too. “I’m not living in the slow lane. I did just sit on the side of the road in a deadly storm, so…”
“Well, I mean…I don’t know, Sasha. It kind of seems like you are. And if I’m not mistaken, you called for help. You’re also alive and well and probably getting a new car out of it, so I’d say you’re okay.”
I’m tired of him taunting me. I’m not living in the slow lane. Or if I was, I’m done now. He doesn’t think I’ll actually go through with his little ploy to get under my skin. Well, I can play his game
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JAGS
“I DON’T FEEL right going out tonight while Tango’s still in the hospital,” Cali tells me. He was supposed to get out two days ago, but one of his incision sites got infected so they made him stay put for another few days. “Plus…I thought you had a thing for Sasha? Why are you telling me to go get her laid?” Cali gives me her signature questioning look and plops down on the couch next to me. “I mean, it’s been sort of noticeable that the two of you haven’t said much to each other over the past couple of days.” We haven’t said a word to each other, actually. She’s pissed at me for suggesting she go screw someone. I get it, but she’ll thank me later. I think.
“I already asked Tango if he cared about you taking Sasha out. He said no, so I wouldn’t worry about that. Second, it’s a part of my plan. Just go with it, okay?”
“She’s my best friend, Jags. You need to clarify yourself a little more,” Cali tells me.
“Look, does Sasha need to know what a real dick feels like or does she have enough experience to say she’s lived a little?”
“Oh, no, she hasn’t lived at all. According to her, Landon’s dick was the size of a pencil,” Cali says while slugging down half of her beer.
“Wait, she’s only ever been with pencil dick?” I clarify.
“I’m not even sure we can say she was with him. She said he had a hard time getting hard so who knows how far his pencil actually got. I feel like I shouldn’t be telling you this. Sasha would want to hurt me if she knew I said anything.” No wonder she’s afraid to live and experience more. “So, okay, just so we’re clear…you want her to get some real experience before you jab her with your cannon?”
“That’s not it,” I tell her. “She won’t actually go through with this. By the time she actually agrees to go home with some dude, she’s going to realize she’d rather come home to me.” I follow Cali’s lead and slug half of my beer too. It’ll be the first of many tonight.
“That’s a pretty sick game, one you could easily lose. Why even push her to do something like that if you want her to come back here to you? And I’m not too sure I like the ide
a of this. There are so many freaks out there, and God knows who she might go home with tonight.” Go home with. Hmm. I didn’t consider the thought of it going that far. It won’t. She wouldn’t.
“I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak. Chicks don’t look to me for a relationship, and the only reason Sasha wants one is because she hasn’t experienced the luxury of not having to commit to someone.” That’s my reason for all of this, and I need to stick with it.
“Have you ever considered that maybe no one will commit to you because you tell chicks you like to go suck another dude’s dick?”
“Just to be clear, I never suggested she suck someone off.”
“Well, exactly what do you think is going to happen when you send her out to get laid. Did you give her a list of rules…what is and is not allowed to happen?” Cali asks, sarcastically.
I get it. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I need to know that I’m not a rebound for that loser, Landon. I don’t fall for girls like I seem to be falling for Sasha. I do like her, and I want to see where it could go, but I need to know her feelings are purely for me and not just the result of an ache in her groin she doesn’t want to admit to. If she sleeps with some guy and then comes back to me with that cute little smile of hers and the big googly eyes she doesn’t realize she’s giving me all the time, then I’ll know she truly likes me for the right reasons. I’d rather lose a chick this way rather than realize later on that she’s found someone with fewer tattoos and who’s a little less rough around the edges to settle down with.
“I think you’re being an idiot,” Cali tells me.
“Just help her find someone, okay?”
“It’ll be my pleasure to get that girl laid. Trust me,” Cali says. For some reason, the way she says this…does make me second guess my plan, but the second ends quickly and I remind myself it’s for my own good.
“But don’t let her fall in love with him,” I tell her as she stands up from the couch. “And make sure she uses protection.”
Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone Page 17