by Bria Quinlan
We were missing one very important person for this birthday party. Abby.
“Where’s Abby?”
John pushed his way through the divider from the kitchen, setting a paper-filled clipboard down on the counter before glancing at all of us.
“She and Sarah are upstairs getting ready. They should be down any second.”
Oh yeah, Sarah.
She wasn’t around as much, but she’d been coming to the group’s game night with John for a while now. Even getting into the competitive spirit of it and bragging about her boy band knowledge. Funny how our little group had grown so much in the past year.
A few moments later, the stairs in the back of The Brew echoed with the tap-tap-tap of dress shoes tripping down them, a light, happy, hopeful sound of women about to do something fun.
Abby looked like a slightly cranky pinup girl. Sarah, of course, pulled off the city chic of someone who worked in a museum. Both looked great and I was, once again, happy for the binder, no matter how pushy Becca was about shoes.
John gave everyone a look then glanced back at Abby and Sarah.
“Okay, ladies, here’s the deal. You’re only going to Gloss, right?” He nodded when we agreed, because why would we want to go to more than one club as it was. “No one is getting arrested tonight.”
He gave us all a sweeping look, pausing ever so slightly on one of us.
“Seriously?” Kasey glared back at him. “You have a couple small run-ins with the law when you’re in a bad place and no one lets you live it down.”
“Right.” John gave her such a dad look I almost laughed out loud. “If anyone does get arrested, you’re to call Max. Not your mom or me or the pizza delivery place because you’re drunk and hungry. Max. This has already been decided.”
“By who?” Kasey asked, as if she didn’t already know.
“By us.” John didn’t define us, but I had a feeling us was everyone in the masculine persuasion of our group.
Honestly, that seemed fine. I doubted anyone was going to get arrested tonight, but with Kasey’s track record, it didn’t hurt to have a plan.
Since no one else argued with him, I figured they were all thinking the same thing.
Kasey, on the other hand, was glowering and I feared a mutiny. Not a good thing since Kasey With Ideas always lead to Kasey in Trouble.
“Okay, killer.” I tossed my arm over her shoulders and guided her toward the door. “No one’s pointing fingers. I’m sure you can get through a night of low-level debauchery without causing any international incidents.”
“See! Someone has faith in me.” Kasey gave everyone else a look that said she was over it and let me push her out the door.
If no international incidents was the bar for someone having faith in her, we were probably in trouble.
At the door to Gloss, we got in line and I realized why I didn’t go out that often. The reasons were numerable and deserve a list:
My friends don’t need to go out to have fun
It’s really cold in this line and these nylons do not protect your skin from the wind tunnel that is this city
People smoke
Smoking is yucky
And there are people. Just in general. People. Everywhere.
I was counting all the ways I hated going out when Kasey elbowed me.
“Was that your name?”
“Tate!” The guy at the door was shouting. “Is there a Hailey Tate here?”
I glanced at the girls, wondering what I’d done wrong already to be pulled out of line.
I raised my hand, trying not to look like a third grader being called to the principal’s office.
“I’m Hailey Tate.”
The man glanced down the line at us and then waved me forward.
“How many are in your party, Miss Tate?”
“Um.” I did quick math because, seriously, we were a party now? “Six.”
He nodded, made a little mark on his clipboard and then pulled the intimidating velvety rope aside. “Have a good evening, ladies.”
It took me a moment to realize he was letting us into the club. That we were jumping the line.
Kasey gave me a shove from behind and got me moving.
As we went by, the bouncer asked, “Who’s the birthday girl?” in a voice that sounded both amused and cynical at the same time.
All of us pointed to Abby and the man reached behind him and pulled out an oversized tiara.
“If you think I’m putting that on my head so I look like some Beacon of Bling, you’re sadly mistaken.” Abby gave him a look that would have had a lesser man running out of The Brew to buy cheap caffeine elsewhere.
He smiled. “Mr. Ryan said you’d say that. He said to tell you, if you wear it and he gets a picture texted to him of you girls, he’ll donate a thousand dollars to Puppy Paws shelter.”
Abby was obviously torn. I mean, who wouldn’t want to help save puppies? After a moment, she snatched the tiara from the bouncer and shoved it on her head, looking like a ticked-off princess.
“You texted him back when he asked where we were going, didn’t you?” I asked. When Abby nodded, I just shook my head. “That was your own darn fault then.”
“Won’t happen again.” She reached for the tiara as if to take it off, then shook her head and left it were it sat.
He hustled us all into the foyer where a coat check waited for us to get rid of all our layers and Abby caught a glimpse of herself in one of the many, many mirrors these places seemed to have.
“I really am going to need a drink for this,” she said before turning and striding into the darkened area of the club beyond.
I followed, amused at this side of Abby, but a little afraid of what a drunk Abby looked like.
Once we got inside, we magically confiscated a corner of the bar. The bartender noticed Abby’s tiara right away and came right over.
“Bride or birthday girl?”
I sucked in a deep breath at the question, the word bride pulling me up short.
It had been four days and I still had no idea what was going on with Connor.
I was trying not to push him to tell me either because I didn’t want him to get the feeling I was wedding-crazy when I was happy with us. Maybe he’d blacked out that he’d brought up marriage. Maybe he’d taken a ball to the head at batting practice. I wondered if he suffered from concussions. That was something I really should know. Maybe I should ask him for a full medical history so I could make sure to watch for any signs of trauma. That didn’t seem out of line, right?
I also wondered who his emergency contact was. With Gavin traveling, I’d hate for them to do something like contact his agent, Dex. That man wouldn’t care what was best for Connor as long as he could play baseball—and Dex got his cut—everything else would fall by the wayside.
I could just text him real quickly and make sure that he was covered. Maybe contact that person and see if there’d been any brain injuries I should know about.
“What are you doing?” Kasey eyed the phone suspiciously. As she should. “No boys tonight, remember?”
“I need to check who Connor has as his emergency contact.”
“Right now?” Kasey was used to my craziness, a slightly calmer, less-likely-to-get-arrested, craziness than her own. Even to my own ears it sounded a little odd. “You need to text Connor right now, in the middle of Gloss, during Abby’s twenty-first birthday party, to ask him who his emergency contact is in case something happens between now and when you get home at two a.m.?”
When she put it like that, it did sound even more than a little odd. I was pretty sure sharing my theory about engagement amnesia wasn’t going to help my case.
“Dex can not be trusted.” This was a true statement—even in the off-season. But I could tell it wasn’t gaining me any sanity points with Kasey.
“Hailey, put the phone away before I take it away.” Apparently Kasey had started channeling my mother circa 2004.
I slid the phone i
nto my tiny little bag and hurried to join the group. I guess the mystery that was Connor would have to wait until later.
Of course, I would rejoin the conversation at the most interesting time. Who knows what Abby said to him before he reached this point? The bartender was pushing a drink across the bar to Abby even though her glass was still mostly full.
“Baby,” he all but followed the drink over the wooden barricade, “I’m all the present you need tonight to unwrap.”
Abby looked at him as if he’d offered her worms.
“Does that work?” she finally asked, obviously curious.
“Sometimes.” He gave her the cockiest smile I’d ever seen. And that was saying a lot.
“Okay.”
My gaze swung back to Abby. She just didn’t seem like the hook-up-with-the-bartender type.
The guy started to pull a pen out of his hipster bartender vest, when Abby continued, “Can we please have a round of…um…something…” Her gaze swung my way. “What do you guys like? Do you drink those frou-frou Sex and the City type drinks?”
I glanced at the bartender, trying to subtly slide his pen back as he realized the “okay” was “Okay, thanks for telling me” not “Okay, let’s get naked.”
It was interesting to see the bartender look so disappointed. I glanced at Abby again, giving her a more thorough looking-over. With her dark hair in the little loopy curls and her slightly retro dress and heels, she really was pretty when she wasn’t scowling. It was funny how comfortable we all felt with her hanging out with us. Hopefully she was feeling just as comfortable with us.
From the few things John had let slip, she hadn’t had the easiest life. I wasn’t sure what that all included, but when you’re twenty-one and living above the café that’s become your life with no family and friends to speak of… Well, I doubted the problems of someone as capable as her were all her fault.
It suddenly felt really important that she felt welcome with us tonight. Not just a pity birthday or a tagalong on her own night.
“We need to do welcome to your twenties shots!” That sounded even more enthusiastic than I meant it to.
I could tell I might have gone over the top a bit from the odd look Jayne gave me before she shrugged and said, “Why not.”
Bartender Mark dropped the shot glasses down in front of us and dumped a bunch of amber liquid in them.
“First round’s on me, birthday girl.” He gave Abby a wink before swaggering down the bar, leaving her staring after him with a confused-yet-annoyed look on her face.
She didn’t seem to know if she should take him seriously or not. Poor Abby, looking like she needed to decide if she should go with her standard attack or just…smile.
Abby reached for the shots and started handing them out, force of habit. Before she could down hers, I reached over and covered it with my hand.
She looked startled and unsure. The last thing someone should feel if they were out with friends. It dawned on me that she was one of us no matter how much of an outsider she felt or acted. At some point along the way we’d let her in.
I liked the idea of that. She added balance to our group. She and Jenna were opposite ends of the friend spectrum. They were the true equalizers that those of us running around in the middle of that sliding scale needed.
“Slow down, birthday girl.” I gave her a smile I hoped wouldn’t freak her suspicious nature out. “Ladies, to Abby! Who has somehow, through her sweet and gentle heart, taken over a place in our lives with advice that even Churchill couldn’t argue with. Happy birthday, Abby.”
“Happy birthday!”
Everyone glanced our way as we raised our shots, guys immediately zooming in on the fact that there were girls celebrating with alcohol. Because that always ended well.
A hot rush of pink rushed over Abby’s cheeks as she lifted the drink and sniffed it.
“Yeah. Not how it’s done, birthday girl.” Jayne took her own shot and downed it in what could only be considered a professional shooter move.
As we watched, Abby followed suit, making a face but managing not to spit it out. “So, that was…burny.”
“Here.” Jenna slid hers toward Abby, and shrugged. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Really?” Abby asked. I wasn’t sure if she meant Really, you’re not much of a drinker or Really, drink another one?
When Jenna shook her head, Abby downed the next one and rolled her eyes back.
“Maybe it’s time for some dancing…you know, before you guys have to carry me home ten minutes after we got here.” She collected all the shot glasses and slid them into the bin next to us, bussing her own birthday party.
“You know you’re not working tonight, right?” Kasey asked, giving her the side look she’d perfected with Max.
Abby just gave her a sweet smile that broke my heart because we’d never seen it. Whether it was from the alcohol or the inclusion I couldn’t tell, but I was really glad that whatever it was, tonight was the night it would come out.
Jayne rounded us all up and herded us onto the dance floor where the real party began.
I put aside my thoughts of engagements and emergency contacts and Connor going for spring training or losing his memory—or his mind—and just let the music sweep me away. A night out with my girls. No need to flirt or worry about how I looked or do anything else that felt so necessary when we went out single. Just make sure Abby had a great birthday and a good time.
9
“Connor!” I opened the door to my apartment, shouting even though the room was dark. “Connor!”
A large, half-clothed body stumbled out of my bedroom, a pair of shorts hanging on his narrow hips.
“Connor.” I smiled at him. “There you are!”
“Here I am.” He looked down at me as I pushed my coat off my shoulders and tossed it toward the couch. Oddly, it didn’t make it that far. Maybe my apartment got bigger while I was out. That would make sense, Connor seemed to make everything bigger. I thought about going to get it and hang it up, but then I’d have to bend down. Bending seemed so tricky. And far. Far, far away was my coat. But my shoes were down there too and I needed to get them off.
Bending was going to have to happen.
Darn that bending.
Maybe…
I reached my hand down and headed toward the floor, plopping my butt right down on the end of the carpet.
See?
Down.
No bending.
“Hails? Everything okay down there?”
“I did it without bending.” He should be really impressed.
“The falling? I saw.”
“This wasn’t falling. It was plopping. I plopped. Right down. And now I’m down with no bending. And shoes.”
“Did you guys take a cab home?” He glanced out the window, checking out the road.
“Nope. I walked.” And wasn’t that a feat to be impressed by?
“By yourself?”
“Just from the door.”
“Who walked you to the door?” Connor was looking all Mr. Serious. Not a good look on him.
I collapse back on the carpet giggling because that was a lie. Every look was a good look on him.
“No one.”
He crouched down next to me, looking not quite angry, but not a happy camper either. It felt like an interrogation time…but with him taking my shoes off too, so win-win.
“Hailey, how did you get home?”
“We took a cab.”
“You said you walked.”
“Just from the door. The cab wouldn’t come inside. I asked because of the pictures in case there were paparazzi and how much I hate them. But he told me,” I dropped my voice to make sure he knew how gruff and mean the guy sounded, “Listen, lady. You’re on your own from the cab to the door. And so I walked home.”
“You walked home from the cab.”
I pointed at him because, “Exactly!”
“Okay. Sounds good.” He bent down because apparent
ly he was doing bending tonight even if I was boycotting it. “Let’s get these shoes off you and get you to bed.”
He finished with my shoes and then lifted me up, carrying me to my bedroom where he’d been sleeping without me.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him, afraid he’d put me down and go somewhere else. I nuzzled into his neck, thinking Oh. I could stay right here. Just right here.
He ran his hand down my back, a comforting move that put me almost to sleep. Just right here.
“Hails, let me put you down.”
“No, thank you.” I made sure my arms and legs were all set staying where they were and just…stayed.
“Hailey.” Connor said my name in a way that made me wonder if I was supposed to respond in some way.
“Connor.” There ya go. Nice response, Hailey Ann.
He laughed, a low rumble against my ear then turned and plopped down on the bed. Just right. No bending.
I adjusted my legs to keep a hold of him and thought I’d sleep just like that. Nice and snuggly.
Connor shook his head and ran his hand up and down my back, lulling me to sleep.
“How did I not know you’re a koala bear when you get drunk?”
“What?”
“You? A little koala bear when you’re drunk, all wrapped up around me like this and not letting go. I had no idea.”
Something in the back of my head started waking up, wondering at what he just said.
How is it he didn’t know that? What else did he not know? What did I not know?
There were probably tons and tons of really important stuff like this that I didn’t know about Connor. Between that and the emergency contact information this was a night of revelations.
Could we possibly not really know each other at all?
“Who is your emergency contact?” It seemed even more important now. It was make or break. I didn’t know. How could I not know?
“What?”
“If you get hurt, who is listed on your insurance to contact?”
“Um…my dad.” Connor pulled back to look at me as if I’d lost my mind.