No Bad Days

by J. Sterling

“Must have missed it. Okay, so . . . seriously, turn away so I can get down and dirty with this sandwich without you watching.”

  I turned away from her and stared at the seats in the stadium, remembering how they used to fill up when I played. Nothing compared to a Friday night under the lights, but that time in my life felt like eons ago instead of only last year.

  “You can look back now.”

  I turned back and grinned at the spot of mustard that rested on the tip of her nose. Leaning closer, I reached out to wipe away the offending condiment, letting my fingers brush her cheek as I did.

  “You had a little mustard there.”

  She swallowed hard. “Oh. Thanks. So much for not embarrassing myself. Quick, do something distracting so we can pretend this never happened.”

  “It was just a little mustard, Jess. I think we’ll be okay.”

  I tossed my arm around her shoulders and tugged her toward me. Being with her was easy, not tense and awkward. I wasn’t used to things with a girl being so easy, so carefree. There was always a hidden agenda, but Jess didn’t seem to have one.

  “Are you going to tell me why you stopped playing football?” she asked again.

  “What’d you hear?”

  She sighed. “Do you always answer questions with questions? Why are you so evasive on this topic?”

  I spit out a laugh before removing my arm and reaching for my drink. “I’m not. Sorry, it’s just that I thought everyone knew the answer to that one already.”

  Her gaze softened. “I did hear something, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

  “I didn’t want to go pro,” I said as my chest tightened. “Honestly, I don’t even know if I was good enough, but plenty of guys on the team were, and that was their dream. I couldn’t, in good conscience, continue playing every Friday night over someone else who wanted it more than I did, who wanted their future to include football when I didn’t.”

  Jess nodded, her hand suddenly resting on my thigh as she gave it a light squeeze before taking it away.

  Immediately, my mind screamed, Put it back.

  “That’s very . . . I want to say noble of you, but who calls people noble these days? But that’s sort of what you are in that situation. I don’t know if many guys would do what you did.”

  I drew in a slow breath. Jess made me proud about my decision, yet my old man had practically disowned me for it. Which made absolutely no sense whatsoever, because he had always complained about how much of my life football consumed, insisting it was a waste of time.

  He even threatened once to stop paying for school completely if I didn’t, so I did. I quit. And I thought he’d be happy but he still seemed disappointed, as if I’d let him down in some way. I couldn’t win with him.

  That theme seemed to be the story of my life. How to Disappoint Your Father, starring Nick Fisher. Yes, I had the leading role.

  I gulped down the rest of my drink before angling my body toward Jess. “Ready for twenty questions?”

  She popped the last of her sandwich in her mouth and chewed slowly before saying, “Um, I guess.”

  Holy Hotness

  Jess

  Whose life is this?

  How was I sitting in the stands of the football stadium with Nick freaking Fisher right now, playing a game of Twenty Questions that he’d initiated? And why with me, of all people?

  One minute we were in class, and the next time I blinked, Nick had bought my lunch, gotten a little jealous of the deli-counter guy, and claimed he wanted to get to know me better. Instead of psychoanalyzing everything, I went along with it.

  Because I wanted to.

  Because if Nick freaking Fisher wanted to get to know me better, then I was going to help him do it.

  The overanalyzing could wait until later with Rachel.

  Nick grabbed his baseball hat and flipped it around so it was facing the right direction. The move shaded his eyes, and I mourned the loss of being able to see them clearly.

  “Where did you grow up?” he asked.

  Easy enough. “The Valley. You?”

  “Orange County.”

  I nodded, but then wanted more specifics. “Where in Orange County?”

  “Laguna Beach. Where in the Valley?”

  “Studio City. The nice part.”

  He smiled. “Parents still married?”

  “Yep. Yours?” I had no idea why, but I figured Nick would say his were divorced.

  “Yep.”

  “I think we’re like a rare breed or something,” I said, keeping my tone light. Very few people I knew had parents who were still together.

  “Tell me about it. But their relationship is so fucked. I almost wish they’d split up.”

  “Really?” I thought about asking more, telling him to give me reasons and examples, but it seemed too personal a topic to press, so I added a little bit about my own. “Not mine. They’re ridiculously in love, and it’s gross. And sweet. But mostly gross.”

  “Siblings?”

  “Nope, you?”

  “Two brothers. Older,” he explained before I could ask.

  “How much older?” I cocked my head to the side as he grinned.

  “Ryan and Frank are eight and ten years older than I am, so I don’t see them as much as I’d like. I was definitely an accident.” Nick snagged one of my chips and tossed it into his mouth, chewing while I processed his words.

  “I always wanted an older brother,” I confessed, feeling silly.

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Not a sister?”

  I shook my head sharply. “No. I wanted to be the younger sister. It always seemed cool to have an older brother watching out for you. You know, beating up the guys who tried to date you, and stuff like that.”

  “You want someone to beat me up?”

  Nick’s mock hurt made the already gooey parts of me melt even further.

  I laughed. “I just want him to give you a hard time.”

  “Cruel. Any pets?”

  “One dog and three fish,” I said with a big smile. I loved those stupid fish.

  “Fish? Really?”

  I punched his shoulder. “Hey, I won them at the carnival and they’re still alive. That was six years ago, and that’s a major accomplishment.”

  He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “That is a major accomplishment. I think those things are meant to die the second you bring them home.”

  “Well, Ron, Snape, and Harry are never dying,” I said over his laughter as he repeated the names of my goldfish. “Shut up, Nick. Stop laughing at me.”

  “Harry, Ron, and Snape? Seriously?”

  “I was going through a phase.”

  “Please tell me your dog isn’t named Dumbledore?” he all but snorted, and I glared at him.

  “My dog’s a girl. Her name is Bettina. What about you? Do you have any pets that I can make fun of?”

  Nick stopped laughing and shook his head. “No. Sorry. My dad claims to be allergic to dogs, but I think he’s full of shit. No pets for me, not even as a kid. Not even a stupid fish.”

  I couldn’t help it, but in that moment I actually felt sorry for him, and said so.

  He shrugged but didn’t say anything.

  After an awkward pause, he asked, “What are you majoring in?”

  “Film production,” I replied, trying to stop myself from smiling at him like an idiot, but failing.

  He let out a little groan. “Ah, that must suck.”

  Confused, I squinted at him. Did he think my choice of major was lame? “Why does it suck?”

  “Because I thought they were dropping it after this semester.”

  I sat up straight in the hard stadium chair as my body instantly stiffened. “What are you talking about? Why would they drop it?”

  He brushed his thighs, sending crumbs from his long-gone sandwich to the ground at his feet. “Shit, I could be totally wrong. It’s not my major, so . . .”

  “But they have all the equipment, and t
hree separate studios. It doesn’t make sense,” I said slowly, not wanting to believe that State would actually cancel the program.

  “Jess?”

  Nick’s voice was clear, but my thoughts felt muddled.

  “Jess, look at me.”

  When I looked up, his deep blue eyes made my heart lurch like they always seemed to do.

  “I’m sure I heard wrong. Check with your counselor, but don’t take my word for it, okay?” When I didn’t respond, he grasped my hands, giving them a quick squeeze. “Jess.”

  “Sorry, I’m just silently freaking out here.”

  “Don’t. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He waved a hand as if dismissing the entire idea. “So, tell me what you want to do in film production.”

  My smile slowly returned.

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure yet since I haven’t ever done any of it. I was thinking I might want to direct or produce, but there are so many other things that go into making a film, who knows which direction I’ll choose.” The possibilities seemed endless, and that filled me with hope. Hope that I’d follow my dreams and have a career I loved.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “I’m a marketing major. My dad owns one of the top marketing firms in three states, so I’ll go to work for him as soon as I graduate.” His words seemed forced, not filled with the kind of excitement one would expect.

  “You don’t want to work for your father?”

  Nick’s brows pulled together briefly before relaxing, as if he wondered how I’d picked up on such a subtle detail. “No, I do. It’s just . . .”

  When he didn’t continue, I asked, “What? It’s just what?”

  “It’s just that there’s a part of me that really wants to work with my brothers. Working with my dad would be great, but . . .”

  He stopped talking again, and I urged him on.

  “Your brothers don’t work for your dad, right? They own a bunch of bars or something?” I’d heard they did, but since the information was secondhand, I wasn’t sure.

  His face lit up. “They own one bar in Santa Monica. It’s called Sam’s.”

  “So you said that working with your dad would be great, but . . . but what?”

  “It’s just that if I could do anything, I’d work with Frank and Ryan, buy into the bar with them. I love being there. And I’m good at it.” His gaze finally raised and connected with mine. “I helped them create and design their new drink menu, and I’ve handled all their marketing to date.” A cocky grin emerged. “And I’m pretty good with people, in case you didn’t know.”

  I laughed. “I’m well aware.”

  Nick looked so happy talking about the bar, it made me wonder how he could just walk away from it. He didn’t seem to be the type of person who wouldn’t fight for the things he wanted, but then again, I didn’t really know him.

  “Why don’t you work for them instead?”

  At my question, his entire expression darkened.

  He blew out a breath that was long and painfully slow as I waited for him to say something, anything. This was the kind of good stuff in a conversation that really let you peek inside the character of a person. And it was rare that a topic like this came up between two people so quickly.

  “That was never in the plan, Jess. It’s been set in stone for as long as I can remember that I would work for my dad and run the company one day. I wasn’t really raised to question that, you know?”

  “Not really. My parents are super encouraging, and they’re excited that I’m following my dreams.”

  My parents were middle-class working people who raised me to hope and dream for whatever it was that I wanted. When I expressed an interest in film production a couple years ago, their attitude was Well, someone has to produce films, so why not our daughter? I used to believe that everyone’s parents were this way, but sitting here with Nick now, I realized just how naive my assumption had always been.

  “Mine raised me to believe that his dreams were my dreams,” he said with a solemn expression that placed a tiny crack inside my heart.

  “So, do it anyway,” I insisted as if that was an option.

  “Do what exactly?” Nick looked at me, his eyes shadowed by the bill of his hat.

  “Work with your brothers.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. At least, it feels like I can’t. Maybe at some point later on, but not right now. Maybe not ever. Hell, I don’t know.”

  “Why not? I don’t mean to pry, but won’t your brothers stick up for you? What do they think about this? They didn’t have to work for your dad, so why do you?” I wanted to hear his answer, longed for it, held my breath waiting for it.

  “My brothers never had to deal with any of this stuff. My dad’s company didn’t hit it big until about ten years ago. Both of them were out of the house already, doing their own thing. I never stood a chance with them gone.”

  “So they get to own the bar and your dad doesn’t care? He doesn’t pressure them to quit and work for him?” None of this seemed fair to me as an outsider looking in.

  “No. He’d never try to tell them that.”

  “Why not?”

  He smiled. “Because neither one of them would take it. They’d tell my dad to fuck off. Which is something I couldn’t do if you paid me.” When I grimaced, he added, “Don’t get me wrong, I want to tell him to fuck off all the time.” He shrugged. “I just can’t.”

  It wasn’t something I could relate to, but I’d never been in the kind of situation he was in. It felt awful for me to disappoint my parents, so I could only imagine the kind of pressure Nick felt.

  “You need your brothers,” I said and he nodded. “To help you stand up for yourself.” I hoped I wasn’t crossing a line.

  When he agreed, saying, “I hate that you’re right,” I wanted to take him into my arms and hug him.

  “Tell me about them. Your brothers,” I said, not wanting our conversation to end. Ever.

  Nick’s face lit up again, and I wanted him to see himself the way that I did. How just the mention of his brothers or their bar made his face come alive in a way nothing else had.

  “Frank is the oldest,” he said with a smile. “He’s definitely the quietest of us three. He’s an observer, you know what I mean? He got a scholarship to Arizona to play baseball right out of high school. He played until he got hurt. I always thought he’d move back home after that, but he ended up staying there. Thank God Ryan wanted to buy that bar, because otherwise I think Frank would still be there.”

  I smiled too. I couldn’t help it. “That’s awesome. I bet you’re glad to have him back. So they both own the bar? Just them?”

  “Yeah. When Frank got hurt, he changed his major to business management and finance. He keeps the books for the business. He’s really smart.”

  “And you do all the marketing. What does Ryan do?”

  A throaty laugh escaped as Nick shook his head. “Ryan, shit, where do I start? Ryan’s the biggest flirt I’ve ever met in my life. You think I’m good with girls? Ryan’s a god.”

  “I can’t even imagine that.” I smiled as I tried to picture an even more charming guy than Nick.

  “It’s true. The ladies can’t get enough of him. Anyway, he’s twenty-nine. He went to school down in San Diego and fell into bartending one night, filling in as a favor for a friend. He loved it so much, he never stopped. He told me once that he made more money in tips that night than he’d made in a month at his regular job.”

  “No way,” I said, my tone incredulous.

  “Honest. But that’s not why he does it. He truly loves it. He makes the most incredible drinks you’ve ever tasted. They’re a fucking art form. Ryan’s more of a mixologist, you know? I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life. The time it takes to make a drink, the way he uses herbs and citrus to assault your senses before the alcohol ever hits your tongue. Wait until you try one, Jess. It’ll change your life.”

  Wait, what?

  I tried no
t to choke on my excitement, but failed. Words escaped me as I pictured hanging out with Nick and his brothers.

  “Are either of them married?” It was a fair question, I thought, but Nick just shook his head with a slight grin.

  “Frank has a girlfriend who moved out here from Arizona with him, but none of us think he’s really happy. It sucks. And Ryan couldn’t keep a girl if he tried. He’s constantly dating, and constantly single.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” I said, nudging Nick’s shoulder with mine.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault that I can’t meet the right girl.”

  I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “That’s what you’re looking for? The right girl?”

  He let out a quick laugh. “I’m just tired of dating all the wrong ones.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, and to stop myself from reading into it, I turned the subject back to Nick’s career. “I don’t mean to keep going back to this, but they both got to choose their career, but yours got chosen for you? It doesn’t seem fair.” I didn’t mean to continue poking at it, hitting a nerve, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Frank and Ryan weren’t raised the way I was. The childhood they talk about isn’t something I can even relate to. It’s so different from mine. The dad they talk about doesn’t seem anything like the dad I grew up with. It’s almost like they’re two completely different people.”

  “Who got the better version?” My question came out without a second thought.

  “I don’t know, to be honest. All I do know is that if there’s one person on Earth that I don’t go up against or say no to, it’s my old man. I don’t like to disappoint him, but I feel like it’s all I ever do.” He finished off his can of soda as I filed away that bit of information somewhere between my heart and my head.

  “I’m sure that’s not true. How could he be disappointed in you?”

  Nick shrugged but didn’t respond, and I stifled my own disappointment that he didn’t feel comfortable sharing it with me.

  “Maybe you’ll learn more from working with him. Maybe he can teach you everything you need to know, and it will make you better when you do go to the bar.” I chewed on my bottom lip, hoping Nick wouldn’t think my positive spin was stupid.