No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1)

by Layne Harper

  Sighing, I look at the ground before I respond. “It sounds strange. I get it, but it doesn’t seem odd when I’m with him. This is how I reason it. Even though I don’t think of myself as being in the public eye, I am. I have viewers of NPC from around the world. If his agent would have called me and said Johnny Knite was interested in meeting, I’d probably have declined. I’d have been so nervous that someone famous wanted to have a drink with me. Instead, I met him in my second home, Eddy’s Bar. It was comfortable.”

  Bella shakes her head. “Still think it’s stalkerish.”

  “Ugly word, B,” I respond. I don’t know why I don’t let it go, but I still feel the need to justify Aaron’s actions to Bella and probably myself. “Remember when they were filming True Blood in the French Quarter?”

  She nods.

  “Did you and I not hang out in bars for a week, hoping to have a beer with Vampire Eric?”

  “Not the same. We were fangirling and being silly. Neither one of us was hoping to have a beer with him or donate to his charity to see if he was potential husband material.”

  I toss a towel at her as I cock my eyebrow. “You wouldn’t marry him?”

  She laughs as she tosses it back to me. “Nope. Just have one glorious night.” Bella grows serious. “Look, MK. You don’t follow gossip mags like I do, but Johnny is troubled. The man is gorgeous and has a voice from the gods, but all that pretty hides someone with issues. Dark issues. I think you should go upstairs, grab your laptop, and type his name in the search bar. If after that you still want a relationship with him, you have my support.”

  There’s that Google suggestion again . . . “It’s funny. He told me to do the same thing. He asked me to please read the gossip sites about him.”

  “And?” she asks.

  Sighing, I bury my face in my hands. “I haven’t. I guess I hope if I stick my head in the sand long enough, his past will evaporate.”

  “Keep dreaming. So how do you feel?” she asks as I go to my spray paint locker and look for just the right colors.

  I turn around. “Like a fool for finally really liking a guy who happens to be a rock star with a past, who tries to scare me away, yet I just keeping coming back for more.”

  ***

  At three-thirty, I hug my friend goodbye and head upstairs to get ready for church. We got a lot accomplished. I have video to edit and writing to do tonight, but I think the viewers will enjoy this project. It was easy and cheap while really spiffing up hand-me-down furniture.

  First, I check my phone, hoping Aaron’s called. I have a voicemail and text from my mother making sure I’m still coming to church, and Bethany called wanting to know more about Johnny Knite.

  Nothing from Aaron. I tell myself that it’s okay. For all I know, he could still be asleep. He seems to be nocturnal and if he’s like me, I feel I could fall asleep standing. It’s an early night.

  I shower, blow-dry my hair into soft waves, and choose a black, fitted long-sleeved dress. It fits perfectly without being provocative. I slip on black heels and my red, woolen coat. It’s another thrift store find. Paid thirty dollars, and it looks like it cost five hundred.

  Church is too far from my home to walk, so I Uber there. Every Sunday, my father mentions he will purchase a car for me and every Sunday, I remind him I don’t need one. It’s our thing.

  When I arrive, Bethany has already deposited my nieces in the church nursery. I slip into the pew next to Ben. My mother reaches behind my sister and brother-in-law and gives my back a rub. She looks spotless as usual, dressed in a brown sweater dress and knee-high boots.

  I kneel down on the padded kneeler and make the sign of the cross.

  Dear God,

  What can I say? We both know I’m a pretty bad Christian. I drink, have sex, and cuss like a sailor. But in my defense, I’m a really good person. I help out those in need, am friendly to all, and still come every Sunday to mass when most of my friends have quit. Like every Sunday, I ask you to watch over Bella and Nyall. Please let him always be as good to her as he is now. Please watch over my nieces, my sister, Ben, and my parents. Even though they all drive me crazy, I love them to pieces.

  Finally, I have a request for me. I’ve fallen hard for Aaron. If he’s the one for me, please bless us and help us both work toward a common goal. If he’s not the one, please show me sooner as opposed to later so I can still find the breath to recover.

  In Jesus’s name,

  Amen.

  I make the sign of the cross and scoot back in my seat.

  Michael, his wife, and his children sit across from me and one row up. They are here every Sunday, but this Sunday, I stare at the back of his head. I add, And God, thank you so much for making Michael such a douche. I’m thankful to not be married to him, and I’m so appreciative he found someone who makes him happy.

  Michael drapes his arm around his wife and plays with her hair. Over his shoulder, she turns, glaring at me like she does every Sunday. This is part of our church tradition. I have no idea why she despises me so. She got what she wanted—him. She looks up at Michael and mouths, “I love you.”

  That’s right, God. You did good. They deserve each other.

  I spend the hour during mass going through the rituals while I daydream about Aaron. My mind drifts back to him this morning all alone in his living room, working on his music. No shirt . . . covered in tattoos . . . his hair shielding his face from view. The man is breathtaking—a religious experience.

  I stand with the congregation as Father Dan walks down the center aisle, blessing us all.

  “Dinner?” my mom asks as we exit the church.

  I touch my stomach. “Sorry, I think I’m going to skip.”

  I just want to go to bed. She nods her head in understanding and lets me off the hook.

  Dad, once again, is horrified I’m taking an Uber home, and I ignore him but still accept the twenty-dollar bill he slips me. I hug my sister, and she whispers in my ear to let her know about my rock star.

  I smile and wave over my shoulder, so thankful my ride is waiting. I love my family, but I can’t take a two-hour dinner of gossip about Grandmother’s party because I, frankly, just don’t care.

  Once I’ve shut the car door, I reach into my bag and pull out my phone. No missed calls. I reassure myself that it has been less than twelve hours since I’ve seen him. It’s okay.

  But when I go to sleep that night and he still hasn’t texted or called, I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach I might have been his one-night stand.

  Chapter Eight

  MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy

  Check out the lamps I restored. For sale. $30 each plus shipping. Message me if interested. #TrashToTreasure

  MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy

  What’s the appropriate wait time between a second and third date? #NotPatient

  MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy

  Testing . . . Testing . . . Can you hear me?

  MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy

  My phone is broken. That’s the only reason I haven’t heard from him, right? #FrownyFace

  Monday (Day One: No Aaron) . . . I keep my office door shut and take care of payroll issues and failed drug tests, and stay busy enough that my co-workers don’t ask about Grandmother’s party. No contact from Aaron.

  Tuesday (Day Two: No Aaron) . . . I had made myself so busy on Monday I don’t have much to occupy my time with on Tuesday. Therefore, I keep my door shut, talk about how crazy my job is right now, and work on NoPinkCaddy. I edit video which hasn’t been previously posted and work on posts. I opt to not discuss Aaron since it’s appearing like I was a one-night stand because rock stars date models—not plain girls from New Orleans who work in dead-end jobs and run little websites. I’ll eventually share the ugly details with my readers, but right now my heart is just too fragile.

  I contemplate retrieving my mermaid dress as an excuse to see him again. It’s legit. At some point, I do have to get it back. Hmmm . . . I have his number. Should I call or
just stop by?

  On the way home from work last night, I initiated Operation: Dress Retrieval. No one answered when I rang the doorbell. My reason for dropping by instead of calling was the fear he’d send me to voicemail or never return my call. Now, I can just imagine he was out to dinner and I still have a rather good veiled excuse to contact him again.

  Wednesday (Day Three: No Aaron) . . . Under my bulky sweater, I wear my “A Girl Needs A Man Like A Fish Needs A Bicycle” tank top. After reviewing the twelve-month financials for NPC I decide that with my growth rate, now is the time to strike. I’m taking life by the balls and squeezing. By God, I might have had a one-night stand with one of the hottest rockers on the planet and it could have got me down. Instead, it’s inspired me. I am an interesting, funny, amazing woman. He sought me out. He donated to Bethany’s charity in the hopes of meeting me. Why? Because I’m awesome. I wasn’t a groupie or hanger-on. He was. I’m a badass, and I deserve to live a badass life. And what’s the worst that could happen? I might have to get another job in human resources, except now I’ve got seven years of experience under my belt and I no longer have my paychecks signed by my college boyfriend.

  After making the decision at around three in the morning, I’d posted on my website and Twitter, alis volat propriis. Translated from Latin, it means she flies with her own wings. By noon, and four tries at a resignation letter later, I’m not feeling so brave.

  I text Bella.

  Me: Lunch?

  Bella: Yes. Usual place?

  Me: Sure.

  Bella: Be there in 10.

  Bella is a kept bride, as I lovingly refer to her. She got laid off from her job in oil and gas, and Nyall decided it was more important she focuses on planning their wedding than worrying herself with finding another job. If all goes well, he’ll have her knocked up on their wedding night.

  She already has a table by the door and waves me over. We’ve been coming to this little hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop for years. It’s nothing more than a family-owned deli, but their homemade soup is to die for and they offer half a sandwich options. It’s table service, which I also appreciate. I hate waiting in line for food.

  The restaurant is long and narrow with this odd divider in the middle. I’ve decided that at some point in this building’s history it was actually home to two businesses, but the family who owns it now decided to buy both locations and tear down the wall separating them. However, once they got started, they realized the wall was structural. That’s why it looks like windows have been cut out of the odd partisan. I’m sure my story is false, just like all of them are, but I’m sticking with it.

  Bella has a mustard yellow scarf around her neck, and wears an off-white sweater and black pants. She’s more dressed up than usual for our lunch date.

  “You look fabulous. Up to something fun?” I ask as I give her a hug.

  A glowing smile lights up her face. “Signing the papers at two o’clock for the wedding venue.”

  I squeal. “Give me the details.”

  “The date is May seventh, and we’re holding the reception at The Columns Hotel and getting married at the nearby Catholic church. It will be a five o’clock wedding.” She twirls her beautiful engagement ring around her finger. “It’s coming up so quickly. I’m going to need my maid-of-honor’s help.”

  “Absolutely.” This just confirms quitting my job and pursuing making my site awesome is the right move. “I have news of my own.”

  “Aaron called,” she guesses excitedly.

  I shake my head, and her guess does take a bit of wind out of my sails. Before I can tell her though, the waitress comes to our table.

  Neither one of us bother to look at the menu. “I’ll take half a ham and Swiss on a baguette with a side of your chicken noodle.” I hand her the menu.

  Bella orders the same.

  “No bowl of lettuce today?” she teases when the waitress leaves.

  “Learned my lesson last week.”

  “Good, because you basically drank lunch.”

  I ignore her.

  “So,” I continue, shoving any thoughts of Aaron from my memory, “I’ve decided to turn in my letter of resignation and focus on NPC full-time. And I know you’re going to be super busy with the wedding, but I’d love any help you can lend.”

  She claps her hands and reaches around the table to side-hug me. “You are going to be famous, MK. I’m going to be able to say ‘I knew her when.’” Then I can see the wheels in her brain turning. “You can feature the wedding.” Her hands flash above her head as if she’s putting her idea in lights. “Think Martha Stewart, but you can add your own MK flair. Your fans will love it.”

  “Thanks! Great idea.” I smile. “I think what my all-too-brief relationship with Aaron showed me was that I’m tired of my life being stagnant. I want more. I feel like I’ve spent my twenties waiting for a prince to save me from my mundane job and life. Then I would have his babies and somehow that would bring me happiness.” I swallow a sip of my water. “I want more than that. It’s time to live my life the way it should be lived. I may never find Mister Right, and that’s okay. I’ve got a pretty kick-ass existence without a guy.” I lift my sweater up and show her the tank top I’m wearing.

  We toast with our water glasses. “I’m so happy for you. You’re right. You should never settle in your career or love life.” But you’re the one who said I should go for practical.

  Bella quizzes me on my business plans and we discuss her wedding colors before the waitress sets our plates down in front of us. I reach for the pepper and realize we have two salt shakers instead.

  I turn over my right shoulder to snag the pepper from the table near us and spot a familiar-looking fedora on the other side of the odd partisan. He takes a bite of sandwich and laughs at something funny the blonde, who has her back to me, must have said. I can’t tell much about her except her hair is long and golden. She has on a silver sweater, which is rather fitted. A designer bag, which probably cost more than I make in a month, rests haphazardly on the worn tile of the restaurant.

  I think I might die.

  My heart plummets to my stomach, and I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut.

  “What’s wrong?” Bella asks.

  Leaning in, I whisper, “Aaron is with another woman.”

  Using my head, I gesture in their direction. Bella is able to get more details since she can discreetly cut her eyes towards them. “They walked in right after I did. I just kinda glanced in their direction. He asked for a table in the back.” She holds up a napkin as if she’s wiping her mouth. “The girl is young. Like I thought wow, that’s a bit of an age gap.” Her eyebrow raises.

  Staring at my plate, I feel sick as I wonder if Aaron’s ever had hot chicken noodle soup dumped in his lap. “We’re not exclusive or anything,” I attempt to justify the situation. “I guess after how caring and interested he seemed, I’m just surprised that he’s seeing someone else. He did donate all that money to Bethany’s charity hoping to meet me.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I guess I thought he really liked me, but I’m also out of his league.”

  Bella corrects me. “You’re in a different league. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  That makes me smile.

  “You should go over and say hello,” she says.

  My eyes roll back in my head.

  “I’m serious,” she continues. “Make it uncomfortable for him. Act like you don’t give a damn. Be friendly and upbeat. Think high school cheerleader. ‘Hi Aaron. How are you?’ Then introduce yourself to the girl. Be the high-class chick you are, but let him know he’s been busted.”

  I think about her advice as I pick the chicken out of my soup. The more I live with the idea, the better I like it. I want Aaron to know I’m nobody’s fool. He said he didn’t want me seeing anyone else and that he was going to prove to me I should only date him, but I never replied I wanted exclusivity also, so I really have no right to be angry. However, a polite hello to him and
the girl will let Aaron know that I know he’s seeing other people.

  Trying to be brave, I picture what advice I’d give to a fan of NPC who was in a similar situation. I’d tell her to roll her shoulders back and take ownership of the scene. Strong, confident women don’t cower in the corner. So much easier said than done.

  I rest my spoon against the side of the bowl. “How do I look?” My pulse races so fast that I feel flushed.

  “You look gorgeous as usual, even though you refuse to wear makeup to work.”

  “Damn. I forgot about that.” For like the first time ever, I wish that I had put some mascara and lipstick on. I pinch my cheeks so at least there’s some color, and borrow Bella’s chap stick.

  “And for the love of God, do something with the bangs,” she says in mock frustration.

  I attempt to tuck them behind my ear, but they are just a millimeter still too short so I fluff my hair over my shoulder and hope my bangs covering my eye makes me look mysterious.

  I’m a fabulous, gorgeous woman who’s taking back her life. No more job I hate, and no more waiting around for a man to realize how great I am. I’ve got this.

  Standing up, I walk toward the back of the restaurant. It’s obvious when Aaron sees me. He stops speaking in the middle of his sentence, and his mouth hangs open. When I’m about four steps from his table, he stands to meet me.

  “Aaron,” I drawl, using my most southern voice. The girl turns toward us, and I’m able to see her face. She’s young, and absolutely stunning, and looks just as surprised to see me as I was to spot her.

  “MK.” Aaron pulls me against him in a bit-more-than-friendly hug. I’m surprised and wonder if she noticed.

  When he steps back, he turns to the girl and begins the introductions. “Jude, this is Mary Kay Landry, but she goes by MK. MK, this is Jude.”

  She sticks out her hand, and we shake. Her smile is large and bright. It’s all so friendly. This is not how I thought this would go down. I thought Aaron would try to prevent the girl and I from meeting. I was going to introduce myself anyway. Instead, he looks surprised but happy to see me. She doesn’t look like she wants to shove her manicured fingernails in my eyes. It’s confirmed. I did fall down the rabbit hole.