Bottoms Up (The Rock Bottom Series Book 1)

by Holly Renee

  The sound of me knocking on their door could barely be heard over the music, so I continued to knock until I heard movement from the other side. I never thought I was such a picky neighbor, but the constant noise coming from their apartment was about to drive me insane.

  The door jerked open and my jaw hit the floor. In front of me stood a very shirtless and very muscular Tucker. His hands were covered with yellow rubber gloves, and one hand held a bottle of cleaner while the other was latched around a rag.

  “What have I done now, Firecracker?”

  “Do you need hearing aids?” I dropped my gaze down his tan body tracing the ridges of his abs and practically drooled when I got to the deep V of his hips.

  “I don’t think so.” He chuckled, deep and masculine.

  I traced my way back up each ripple of muscle before I noticed he was watching me. My blush was creeping up my chest.

  “Well, you’re going to if you don’t turn down your music. Are you always so loud?”

  “I haven’t really noticed, but it’s good to know that you are noticing me.” He smirked, and I simultaneously wanted to suck his bottom lip into my mouth and smack the smirk off his lips.

  “I wouldn’t take that as a compliment when you’re in everyone’s face.”

  “I guess you’re right, but Brooke doesn’t seem to mind my ‘loudness,’” he actually did air quotes, “as much as you do.”

  He was right, but Brooke rarely complained about anything. It was just who she was.

  “I’m really not in the mood for this today, Tucker. Please just turn down the music.”

  His smirk instantly dropped from his face, and he stood taller.

  “Are you okay?” He actually looked concerned.

  “Yes. I just need some peace and quiet.”

  “Done.” He looked me in the eyes. “I’ll be here for a few more hours before I have to run some errands if you want to talk about it.”

  “No, thanks.” I tucked some loose hair behind my ear. “I’d rather go listen to the characters in my book.” I hitched my thumb over my shoulder.

  “Well let me know if Fabio has any tips for me.” He laughed softly and started to run his gloved hand through his hair but thought better of it.

  “Will do.” I chuckled, and he smiled at me.

  By the time I made it to my door, I could no longer hear the music, and I could kiss Tucker. I liked to think it was only about the music and that it had nothing to do with his pouty lips or scruff on his face. I just needed alone time with a good book to get my head back in line. It would do the trick like nothing else could.

  I set my bag down next to the door and Brooke looked up at me from her place on the couch.

  “You’re home early.” I hadn’t expected her to be home from work yet. She managed a trendy salon that was just down the road from us, and she absolutely adored her job. It was both great and torturous for me. I got to get my hair done for free by one of the stylists, but Brooke also liked to use me as her dummy for any new products that came in. Sometimes I smelled like a flower bomb blew up in my face. But I couldn’t refuse her. I never would.

  “I’m actually not. You were gone a really long time.” She looked at me concerned.

  I looked down at my phone, and I realized that she was right. It had been about two hours since I walked out of the restaurant where my mother sat with her head held high.

  “Yeah. I lost track of time.”

  “How did lunch go?” She watched me like a hawk, and I knew she was looking for any tells on how it really went in case I lied to her about it.

  “Same old, same old.” I plopped down on the couch beside her, and she pulled me into her side.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. I know I’ve said this a million times, but you don’t need them.” Her voice was soft.

  I nodded my head at her even though I couldn’t really bring myself to believe that deep down.

  “We’ve got each other, and we’re all each other will ever need.” She pulled me in tighter.

  Did I mention that Brooke was the best friend ever? Despite our difference in opinions on clothing, books, style, and who the hottest Hemsworth brother was, I couldn’t imagine anyone else being here with me. She was my person in this world.

  “I know, babe.” I snuggled in tighter against her.

  “Now go get one of your books, take a bath, and then we’re going out tonight. No arguments.”

  I swallowed the one that was on the tip of my tongue.

  “You don’t have a shoot until tomorrow evening, and we need a night out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I got up and walked past her to head to the bathroom. She was right. A night out wouldn’t hurt us.

  “Now that’s the attitude I like to see.” She slapped my ass and pressed play on her TV show.

  She was completely right. We were all each other would ever need.

  I was ashamed of myself. Not so ashamed that I probably wouldn’t do it again, but the kind of ashamed where I would make the unbreakable vow to never speak about it to anyone.

  Everything was going fine. My body was submerged in the hot water, my paperback was perfectly balanced on the side of the tub, and the story I was reading was good. But the sex scenes, they were hot. I could feel a tingle in my stomach when the hero lifted the heroine off the ground and slammed her into the wall, and I decided that was exactly what I needed. To be slammed. But of course, as slightly anti-social and completely single, my chances of that happening at the moment were pretty slim.

  So I took the problem into my own hands.

  Literally.

  I closed my eyes as my hand slid down my body, and I imagined the hero’s light blond hair as he threw me on the bed and had his dirty way with me. It was perfect. My stomach tightened as I imagined my hand as his. I sped up as my imagination did.

  Then it all went downhill.

  The hero’s hair changed from the perfect sun-kissed blond to a light brown. His bright blue eyes morphed into a dark brown shade, and somehow it managed to get so much hotter.

  If I had any sense whatsoever, I would have stopped what I was doing and cleared my head. But I was too far gone, and apparently, Tucker was going to be the guy to take me to the end.

  My body lost control as I imagined his hands running down my body, his scruffy facial hair dragging against my skin. I could see his satisfied smirk in my head when he successfully got me off, and once again I had mixed emotions. I wanted to kill him, slap myself, and then beg him to do it again.

  I sank my head under the water, the warmth covering my already overheated body, and I screamed out my frustration. Clearly, self-care wasn’t the best option for relieving my stress today. It seemed to make me crazier.

  When I got out of the bath, Brooke was waiting for me in my bedroom. She was sitting on my bed acting innocent, but I knew the look on her face.

  “Hell no.” I pointed straight at her while holding my towel up with my other hand.

  “Why not?” She pouted.

  “Because I’m not a Barbie.”

  “I know you’re not a Barbie, but it’s not a sin to let me do your makeup, you wench.”

  I smiled at her insult.

  “What do I get out of it?”

  “To look extra gorgeous tonight.” She smiled.

  “Try again.”

  “You can choose what we watch next movie night.” She knew she had me with that one and you could see the victory all over her face.

  “Deal.” I huffed before plopping down at my vanity like a brat. “But don’t make me look like a slut.”

  She put her hand over her heart like that would somehow make her innocent. “Me?”

  “Yes. You.” I looked at her through the mirror. “I know your makeup bag is filled with slut dust. You sprinkle that crap around like you’re a fairy and poof! Sluts everywhere.”

  “Glitter is not slut dust.”

  “Whatever you say, slu
t dust master.”

  ...

  By the time everything was said and done, my hair and makeup looked awesome. She lined my green eyes with a sharp, black liner that winged out at the edges and created a sultry effect on my eyes. The rest of my makeup was light except for the bright red lip that, despite my doubts, looked awesome with my hair and light skin tone. She piled my hair on top of my head in a large bun that made me happy because I wouldn’t have to deal with it all night.

  I put on a Brooke approved pair of black skinny jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt, and a pair of Brooke’s black sparkly sandals. I drew the line at heels. Especially if I wanted to make it through the night.

  The bar that we chose was pretty packed, but we still managed to get a seat at the bar. The place was ordinary. Nothing special. Just a hole in the wall place where people came to drown their sorrows or drown themselves between each other’s legs.

  Brooke ordered a martini, and I ordered a whiskey sour. Somehow our drink choices seemed to fit our personalities perfectly. I looked around the bar and watched the people around me. It was an ordinary night with ordinary people.

  The guy to my right was leaned into the pretty blonde sitting on the stool who was clearly giving him the “Fuck off” vibes. He either didn’t have a clue or didn’t care. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  The hottest guy in the bar had already saddled up next to Brooke, and she was giggling and throwing him her flirty eyes. And yes. Flirty eyes are a real thing. Not all women are accomplished in the art, take me for example, but Brooke was the master. She could bat her eyelashes a few times and men were eating out of the palm of her hand. I was in awe of her skill.

  Just watching her made me smile.

  “Hey there, hot stuff.” I heard a voice call from behind me.

  Please don’t be talking to me. Please don’t be talking to me. Please don’t be talking to me.

  The man leaned against the bar and stared at me expectantly.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked before taking a sip of my drink.

  “What’s your name?” He moved in closer to me and beer sloshed out the side of his glass.

  “My name is Kennedy.”

  “Kennedy.” He rolled my name over his tongue. “That’s a good name. I could see myself calling it out.”

  “Did you seriously just say that?” I looked around me as if I was being punked.

  A snort came from my side, and I turned to see Brooke trying to hide her laughter.

  “What? You’re not interested in knowing my name? Don’t you want to know what it would feel like to scream it out?”

  His stale breath blew in my face and I fought the urge to retch. I didn’t know if it was from the smell or from his words.

  “What’s your name?”

  He was drunk, and I could see the fuzziness in his vision.

  “Brad.” He took another sip of his beer. “Do you want to get out of here?”

  “Sorry. That’s not going to happen.” I shook my head softly.

  “You don’t have to be a bitch.” He snarled up his nose. “You’re not that good looking anyway.”

  I pretended like his words didn’t hurt me.

  He brushed against my side, and I clearly heard the “slut” he tried to say under his breath.

  It was the exact reason I wasn’t the bar scene kind of girl. I wasn’t into empty compliments, if that’s what you want to call it, or the empty hookups.

  It was the lack of expectation and romance. I wanted sweet words, passionate touches, and grand gestures. I needed to be swept off my feet, not expected to drop to them and open my mouth as soon as I met a guy.

  Instead of letting the jerk get to me, I ordered another drink and turned toward my best friend.

  “Why are guys so sleazy?” She wrinkled up her nose.

  “It’s not all guys. At least I don’t think so. It just seems to be the men in this bar.”

  “What’s your idea of a perfect guy?” She practically sighed as she said it.

  “Well he has to be hot, preferably a six pack, sweeps me off my feet, is alpha enough to piss me off just a little bit, and then he will fuck me like a champion and make it all better again.”

  “You just described one of your book boyfriends,” she said blankly.

  “I know and wouldn’t it be wonderful if one of them were real.” I fanned myself dramatically.

  “I think you need to quit reading and get out more. You might actually find a guy that interests you.” Her eyes were searching the bar looking for a victim.

  “Or maybe you should read more and then you wouldn’t have such low standards.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me, and I laughed.

  “You know I’m not a reader. If I was though, I would start with Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Darcy is dreamy.”

  “You got that right, babe. He is the king of angst.”

  “Well, I say since there are obviously no Mr. Darcy’s in this place, we should drink our fill then go back home and watch him be amazing.”

  “That sounds like the best plan you’ve had all day.” I raised my glass to hers and we toasted to Mr. Darcy and the unrealistic expectations he gave us.

  Brooke and I managed to consume way too many alcoholic beverages, and by the time we made it back to our apartment and started Pride and Prejudice, we were a giggling hot mess. Wine was consumed and our worries went out the window.

  When I finally climbed into bed in the early hours of the morning, all concerns regarding my mother were gone, and all that was left were thoughts of Tucker. I had been trying to clear him out of my head as well, but there was something about knowing that he was lying in a bed just behind the thin wall behind me that just wouldn’t budge. I was still reeling from my earlier lapse of judgment in the bathtub, but something deep inside my gut was telling me how much I loved the thoughts of him. I completely blamed it on the alcohol and his abs.

  I mean did he really have to have abs like that. And that V cut. That was just ridiculous. Nobody really needed that. The only thing it was really good for was tracing it with your tongue. It was really just a cocky display to even have it, but God, I loved it. The urge to run my tongue over his entire body was fierce, and I needed to snap myself out of it.

  My body was on fire, but I refused to give into it. One Tucker masturbation a day was all I was allowing myself. I was drawing the line there because clearly, my libido was needing some ground rules.

  The blaring music coming out of my phone caused me to shoot up in bed and almost fall off the side. I slapped at the screen without even looking at it. The noise was killing my damn headache. Clearly, I had a few too many drinks the night before.

  When my music didn’t stop, I finally peeked an eye open toward the wall I shared with Tucker. But this time, it wasn’t him. I looked over at my phone and saw that I was actually getting a call. I probably should have let it go to voicemail since my mouth felt like I had been chewing on cotton for about seven hours straight.

  “Hello.” Oh dear God. I sounded like a man.

  “Hello. May I speak with Ms. Hayes?” A woman’s voice came through the line.

  I held my hand over the speaker of the phone and cleared my throat. “This is her.”

  “Hi, Ms. Hayes. This is Chloe Rule. I am the Manager of Rock Bottom. We are a new restaurant in the area.”

  “Yes. I’ve heard of it,” I said almost confused.

  “Well we are looking for a photographer to do some promotional shots and our owners are asking for you by name.”

  “Me?” I almost squeaked out.

  “Yes.” She laughed softly. “Apparently they saw some of your images through a friend and were highly impressed. Can you come in to meet with me about the vision we have to see if you feel like you would be a good fit?”

  “Absolutely. I would love to.”

  “I know it’s short notice, but could you come in this afternoon? I’d like to get things squared away.”

  “Yes. I have a scheduled sho
ot at six this evening, but I could come in around two if that works for you.” I was practically bouncing on my bed.

  “That sounds great. Do you know where we are located?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, God. Don’t call me ma’am. I’m young and rocking. You just made me feel old.”

  “Okay.” I laughed. “I’ll see you at two.”

  “Sounds good! See you then.” Chloe ended the call, and I jumped on top of my mattress and screamed at the top of my lungs.

  This was a huge opportunity for me. Doing a campaign shoot for a highly anticipated restaurant could completely change my career. It could give me the boost I’d been needing to take my photography in the direction I’d always envisioned.

  After doing my happy dance for a few more minutes, I leaped off my bed and ran straight out my bedroom door and into Brooke’s. The apartment was still dark and I momentarily looked at the clock to see that it was nine in the morning, and Brooke was probably going to kill me.

  I jumped up on her bed without any warning, and she almost head-butted me in the crotch when she shot up in her bed like a ninja.

  My hands protected my lady bits then I jumped onto her lap and pinned her shoulders to the bed.

  “What the fuck are you doing, you crack head?”

  “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.” I shook her shoulders.

  She slapped at my hand, and I couldn’t help laughing at the scowl on her face.

  “What is wrong with you? Get off me.”

  “I can’t. I’m too excited.”

  “Why? Did a new book release today?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Don’t be a snob. I’m excited because I just got a phone call from the manager at that new restaurant Rock Bottom, and they want to meet me about taking photos for their advertisements.”

  “Seriously?” she shouted.

  “Yes,” I squealed before I was thrown off of her, and she jumped up on her bed.

  “Oh my God! This is amazing!”

  I stood up with her, and we jumped on her mattress giggling and hollering like a couple of pre-teens who just got asked out on their first date.

  A pounding on the front door stopped our celebration, and we looked at each other in confusion as we tried to catch our breath.