“What time is it?” Sue asked, looking around the room for a watch.
“Where do you need to be?” he asked and walked over to the arrangement of armchairs and a coffee table by the balcony doors.
“It’s Monday morning…or afternoon. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She watched him slide the glass doors open and a soft breeze blew in, billowing the white lace curtains in the room.
“I don’t remember, anymore, and I’ve ordered Luke to hold off all the messages.” He turned to look at her and Sue smiled.
“You never played hooky in college. God forbid!” she said and her hand flew to her mouth dramatically. Gerard laughed and started pouring coffee from a French press into two mugs on the table.
“I’m older now, and wiser,” he said without looking at her and Sue stepped out of bed. She found a matching blue satin robe laid out carefully on the ottoman at the end of the bed and she slipped into it while Gerard studied her naked body. She walked over to him and they both sat down facing each other. The balcony overlooked what seemed to be a forest and Sue assumed it was a part of Gerard’s property, his billionaire version of a backyard.
“What did you want to talk about last night, Sue?” He was blowing over his coffee. She smiled at him and did the same with hers. He remembered the way she liked her coffee.
“I don’t quite remember. It might have had something to do with the fact that we jumped into bed after twenty years of not seeing each other.” She raised an eyebrow and he laughed.
“Did it feel strange to you? Was it offensive?” he asked her and sat back in his chair.
“I can’t say that it did, but I still feel as though there is more conversation involved there. I don’t exactly know what,” she said and shied away from his gaze. She didn’t know how to talk about her feelings anymore. Vincent’s reaction to this would have been to storm out of the room, bang doors and stay somewhere else for the night.
“Maybe. Or maybe not,” he began and she looked up at him, surprised by the response. “It was unfortunate that we broke up, that you had to experience the pain of a failed marriage. But we’ve found each other again. Yes, we had a rough start, but look at us now,” he said and smiled widely. “Do we need to analyze it? Unless this was a one-time thing for you,” he said and his smile dropped.
Sue shook her head wildly. “No, it’s not a one-time thing, Gerard. I guess what I’ve been trying to say is that I want us to give it another try. I didn’t know if it was a one-time thing for you.” She looked away from him again, embarrassed.
“I never stopped loving you, Sue. You left, but I couldn’t forget you.” She detected a quiver in his voice and she looked at him.
“I was a fool. For not believing in you or your intentions. I love you,” Sue said and stifled a wail.
“Good. I’m glad you blame yourself because I’ve always blamed you.” She jerked her head up to look at him and he was grinning. She laughed and shook her head, wiping away tears from her cheeks. He always knew how to stop her from dissolving into a crying mess.
“Can we talk about more optimistic things now? Like when you’re moving in?” he asked casually.
“Shouldn’t we go on a few dates first? Shouldn’t you woo me and surprise me with a key to the house?”
“Why? To get to know you? I’ve known you for twenty-three years and nothing has changed. Other than the fact that I don’t live in my parents’ attic anymore, and I have a butler,” he said and they both laughed.
Sue placed the mug of coffee on the table, stood up and settled herself on Gerard’s lap. They kissed, for several minutes, and finally pulled away for air.
“I am truly sorry, Gerard,” she said while she played with a lock of his hair.
“You should be!” he admonished her like she was a small child. “So do you want to tell the others, or should I?”
“I feel like I’m getting my whole family back,” Sue said as Gerard nudged her off his lap and walked over to the cordless phone on his bedside table. He laughed while dialing Carl on speed-dial.
“I get the feeling that we’ll have to throw a dinner party again tonight,” he said, just as Carl answered the phone. Sue couldn’t stop giggling while the two men talked, they were back in college.
“You won’t believe the news I have for you!” Gerard spoke into the phone.
THE END
What the Outlaw Keeps
Samantha Leal
Copyright ©2016 by Samantha Leal. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
1.
Emily twiddled her thumbs as she sat in the waiting room and looked nervously around. From first glance, she could already tell that she was one of, at least, four other candidates down to the last stage of the interview process, and she didn’t much fancy her chances now that she was looking at them all sitting quietly on either side.
Emily could see how well-heeled they were. And although she hadn’t had a bad upbringing, she knew that they probably had both the qualifications and the connections to let them sail through and collect first place ahead of her. It wasn’t often she found herself in such a position, but this was definitely one of them. She was the underdog… and even though she probably wanted – and needed – the job more than any of the other interviewees, she couldn’t bear to put herself through the torment of the grueling process any longer.
She looked at the smug expression on one of the guy’s faces who was staring at her over the top of his copy of the Financial Times and she rolled her eyes before getting to her feet.
She’d rather spend the rest of her life as a waitress than having to mingle with and be polite to stuck up idiots like them, and she wasn’t intending on sticking around to find out whether she would have eventually made the cut or not.
She smoothed down her pencil skirt and picked up her purse. As she turned and walked back toward the main doors, she couldn’t help but let the grin spread across her face.
“Miss Moore?” the receptionist called as Emily marched past her without turning back or responding.
She didn’t owe any of them anything, and she wasn’t about to sit and explain herself to a stranger. She was out of there!
She laughed to herself as she undid the buttons on the cuffs of her shirt and rolled the sleeves up to the elbows. The sun was high in the sky and it was a hot, humid day. Far too humid to be wearing such a conservative outfit with a pair of ridiculous heels. Emily checked her watch. It was only one thirty. She had the whole afternoon stretching out before her and the whole city was hers.
“You’re not going home,” she said aloud to herself as she stood in the middle of the busy street, looking left and then right.
She could have decided to go in either direction, but something pulled her to the left and without giving it a second thought, she began to follow her instincts.
As she walked along the city streets, she thought of how she had come to this point. Emily was now twenty-five, single, she still lived at home with her parents, and she was currently pretty much unemployed, except for the couple of shifts a week at an Italian restaurant over on her side of town. She had geared herself up to seriously start looking to begin her career, but so far, every firm she had set foot in had given her the creeps.
The latest had been, by far, the worst, though, and now she was out of there and felt as if she could breathe again; she knew that she had done the right thing. Emily had always thought it was right to live by the motto that you certainly only live once. And she didn’t want to compromise any of her precious time by being unhappy in what she was doing. She knew the second she had set foot in that place, weeks ago, that she wouldn’t have liked it there…but she pushed herself to go through the motions anyway, hoping, as most did, to be rewarded at the end.
; But screw that, she thought, this is my reward. Today.
She turned left again at an intersection and found herself in a part of town she had never been before. The street was lined with grimy looking bars, and although she was going to stick out like a sore thumb, she didn’t care. It was mid-afternoon… What was the worst that could happen?
She reached up to her long blonde ponytail, pulled out the hair tie that kept it in place and shook her long locks out, down and over her shoulders. She pulled off her black framed glasses and slipped them into her purse and opened another button at the top of her shirt so her big, bouncing breasts were ever so slightly on show. Pushed up and highlighted by her amazing nude lace bra.
“Come on then, Em,” she coached herself. “Let’s find somewhere to unwind.”
She had never ever drank during the day before, but after her experience back at that office, she knew that this was the perfect time to start.
She stomped forward, her heels clicking out behind her and her hips undulating with each stride. She felt powerful, confident and ready to take on the world. And when she stopped outside of a bar whose door was open and had rock music blaring out from the inside, she knew that she had found the perfect place.
“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself as she tucked her jacket underneath her arm and took a deep breath.
She had no idea what she would find once she stepped over the threshold, but she was excited and in the mood to be reckless.
2.
The bar was everything she had hoped for. It was dark and dirty, cheap and unpretentious. There was an old fifties style jukebox in the corner that was stained with grime and as she pulled up her stool and sat down in front of the barman, she could swear that he almost did a double take.
“Hey,” he said. “What can I get you?”
He eyeballed her suspiciously. Almost as if she was working undercover and about to bust him for something highly illegal.
“Hmm,” she said as she checked her watch again.
It was almost two p.m. and she was sure that it wasn’t the kind of place to carry fine wines.
“Can I get a vodka?” she smiled. “Straight up with some ice.”
The barman gave her a wry smile from below his long, red beard. She could make out the glint of a golden tooth somewhere in there and it made her want to turn and take a proper look at the place she had walked into. But it was too late to back out now.
“Sure,” he said as he reached up and pulled down a cloudy looking tumbler.
Emily hadn’t been in a bar so dirty since she had been in college and hadn’t cared about who was pouring her drinks, or what they were pouring. Even though she didn’t exactly live a life of opulent sophistication, she did suddenly feel a little panicked.
She had read plenty of articles about the possibility of certain type of illnesses spread via dirty glasses. But she decided that this wasn’t the time to become a paranoid hypochondriac. This was her day of self-discovery and freedom.
The barman turned and held the tumbler up to the optic. She watched as the thick, clear liquid ran down and splashed over the big chunks of ice resting at the bottom.
The barman smiled at her as he slid it across the splintered and chipped bar top and she took it from him meekly.
“Thank you,” she grinned.
“Sure, no problem…” He turned and walked down the bar by a couple of feet, and stood and watched her out of the corner of his eye whilst he dried the stack of glasses that were in a wet pile in front of him.
Emily was aware of his eyes on her, but she didn’t mind. Of course, he was going to be suspicious. From the look of the only other people in the joint, there couldn’t have been many days they got a curvaceous, naughty secretary styled, starlet type blonde bombshell walking through the doors in the middle of the day.
Emily raised the glass to her lips and took a long, much needed sip. The vodka was just cool enough from the ice and it slipped down her throat effortlessly. She shuddered and winced. She had never been very good with spirits. But she figured this was the perfect time to try.
She heard the door go behind her and a small group of men, all clad in leather, walked in and made their way over to a booth in the corner. Their boots scuffed across the wooden floor and the smell of stale smoke filtered in with them. Emily was intrigued. She wanted to turn and watch them, but knew that she would only be asking for trouble by drawing attention to herself and the fact that she was there alone.
She suddenly wished she had chosen to sit at a quiet table. Somewhere not so on show and in the middle of all of the action. She looked over her other shoulder and could see one not far from the front door. But it was too late. If she moved, she would only make herself more of a target. Better to just drink down some more Dutch courage and hope for the best.
She raised the glass to her lips and swallowed down the rest. She gasped as she pulled it away and the alcohol stung her insides.
“Someone’s on a mission?” The barman smiled as he idled up to her again and rested both his palms down flat on the counter top. Emily took in the violent tattoos winding their way down his forearms. Blood and gore mixed in with the gnashing of lion’s jaws. “Can I get you another?”
Emily nodded and exhaled.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I think I’m going to need a few more of those.”
The barman chuckled and swept her glass away before he refilled it and set it back down.
“So,” he said. “What’s your story?”
Emily couldn’t help but feel like a cliché. The lone girl who was unhappy with her life and suddenly wanted to live on the wild side. She’d seen it in movies a million times and now here she was… Could she be stumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time? If it wasn’t so concerning, maybe she would have laughed.
“Just a shitty day,” she offered up, acting nonchalantly. “Needed to unwind.”
She shrugged as if she did this type of thing all the time and the barman studied her for a few moments more. She put her purse down on the counter top in a bid to reassure him that she wasn’t hiding anything. And she slipped off the high heels from her aching feet and let them rest on the rough wooden bar that ran across the base of the stool. Her court shoes tumbled and collapsed into a little pile underneath her.
“We all have shitty days, I guess,” he said as he took her glass away and filled it up for her again. The alcohol already had its tight hold on her and she felt warm and fuzzy inside.
“Yep,” she said. “Well, today, I feel as if I really have earned this.” She had to make a conscious effort to stop herself from drawling. “I’ve had an epiphany!”
The barman laughed and leaned in closer so his voice was no more than a whisper.
“That’s all well and good,” he said gently. “But girls like you should be careful coming in places like this,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention, if you know what I mean...”
She could only guess what type of men leered in here later in the day, and she was grateful for his warning.
“I’ll keep to myself,” she assured him. “But thank you.”
“No problem,” he smiled.
And then she watched him move over to pick up another glass and fill it with ice cool water.
“Here,” he said. “Drink this, or no more.”
“Yes sir,” Emily grinned, feeling as if her random and spontaneous adventure had already led her to make a new friend.
3.
The barman called himself Junk and Emily couldn’t help but fall to the side and let her head loll back on her shoulders with intense laughter as he began to tell her why.
“Ever since I was a teen and started getting close with the ladies,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “I’m very well endowed.”
Emily wiped the tears of laughter away from the corners of her eyes.
“But JUNK?” she gasped before bursting into a fit of laughter again. “It just
sounds…I don’t know…dirty…”
He shrugged and winked.
She had to look away. It was funny, but she couldn’t believe she knew such intimate details of the rough looking man in front of her. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but with a nickname like Junk, she was sure he had some pretty wild stories to tell.
The bar had filled up slightly since she had arrived and the music was still blaring from the jukebox. From the group of rough looking men in the corner, one guy in particular kept getting to his feet and sauntering over, choosing old eighties hair metal classics such as Kiss and Motley Crue. Even though Emily had never paid much attention to that kind of music before, she found that she recognized almost all of the songs, and even knew most of the lyrics. They had been engraved into her mind, passively and without her knowledge, over the years. And she found herself tapping her feet and singing along.
Junk was serving another group of bearded men down at the other end of the bar and Emily could tell that they were dangerous. Their beards were long and twisted down to their chests. They wore big, silver rings across their tattooed knuckles and their eyes moved shiftily from side to side.
Since she had walked into the bar, the only person to pay her any attention had been Junk. But with the arrival of the two new guys at the other end of the bar, she could feel her anxiety rising. There was something about the way they were looking at her. Something about the way they held themselves. She could tell that they were bad and that they wouldn’t have any problem disrespecting or intimidating a woman.
Emily fidgeted nervously and just hoped that they would continue speaking with Junk and then take a seat somewhere else. Leaving her in peace to enjoy the rest of her afternoon.
She checked her watch, it was almost three p.m. She had been in the bar for around an hour and a half and she was still warm and fuzzy on the inside, but she was glad that Junk had coached her into pacing herself with the water. She had decided to move away from vodkas and now she was sipping light beers straight from the bottle.
SCAR (LOST CREEK SHIFTERS NOVELLAS Book 2) Page 64