Running Home to You (The Running Series)

by Sweeney, Suzanne

  “I can’t help it. See, I heard this wildly sexy football star lives here all alone. Rumor has it, he’s crazy good-looking.” I crane my neck to look around the deck and into the house. “You haven’t seen him around here, have you?”

  “Do you mean that ego-maniac Big Mac? Why would you want to waste your time with some dumb jock like that? You could do so much better,” he teases as he twists strands of my hair around his fingers.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. I hear he has a terrible temper.”

  “True, but I hear he’s a God in the bedroom. One night with Big Mac, and you’ll never go back. Do you know how he really got that nickname?”

  I give him a big smack across his shoulder. “Oh, my God, Evan! The things that come out of your mouth.”

  “Have you already forgotten the things that I can do with my mouth, Juliette? You’ll have to let me refresh your memory,” he hums in my ear, using his most seductive voice. His hands travel up and around my leg, and rest on my ass, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

  “Evan, stop. You’re making me crazy.” I get off his lap and return to my chair. Uncapping my bottle of water, I take a swig, and then continue. “When you look at me like that, it’s ... it’s ... it’s not fair.”

  “Baby, nothing about this situation is fair. I’m just so glad you decided to come to our beach for a run this morning. It gives me hope.”

  “Me, too.”

  I spend the remainder of the morning with Auggie, who’s still sound asleep when I get home, thankfully. He still sleeps more than I’ve ever known him to before. I think it’s good. It must mean that his body is healing. I can see him getting a little stronger each day. Soon, he’ll be able to get around without help, but for now, he still needs assistance.

  Secretly, I’m glad to have a reason to refuse Evan’s advances. This past week has been picture-perfect and I hope and pray that the old Evan is here to stay. But only time will tell.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Barking Up the Wrong Tree

  Evan’s commercials for Top Dog Sports Drink started airing on all the major networks today. Auggie and I saw his commercial twice in the two hours I was home with him before heading to work for the day. I have a feeling Evan is going to be haunting me all day long.

  As the crew and I finish cleaning and prepping for today’s lunch service, I notice Emmy’s not here yet. It’s unusual for her to be late. She’s never once, not in the entire time that I’ve known her, ever been late for work. I hope there’s a simple explanation like holiday traffic or lack of parking.

  I open the doors at eleven o’clock, and waiting outside is a small pack of young girls, no older than sixteen. I seat them at a table and bring them a lunch menu. They don’t even open it. Instead, they are scanning the restaurant from end to end, clearly looking for someone or something. A waitress approaches the table, jots down their order, and then walks away, shaking her head. “Katie, what’s the matter? Is anything wrong?” I ask.

  “They all ordered a diet soda. That’s it. Nothing else,” she explains.

  “Why would they come into a restaurant to get a soda? They can get that cheaper and easier anywhere on the boardwalk,” I answer, equally confused.

  Katie and I are distracted when another group of college-age girls enters. I can tell by the hair, make-up and clothes that they’re not local. They look way too ready for MTV. They, too, scan the restaurant carefully. One of them glares openly at me. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under in an instant. “I think I know why they’re here,” Katie speculates.

  “Yeah, me too,” I agree.

  Derek’s face lights up when the small group of young women sashays up to the bar. He immediately puts on his charms and starts greeting our guests warmly. The female customers respond well to Derek. It’s not hard to figure out why – he’s tall, clean cut, with a friendly smile and a great sense of humor. I’m hoping that Derek can keep the girls entertained and happy. When I see Derek checking their ID’s, I decide to accept their presence as a cost of doing business with a celebrity.

  When Emmy comes in, nearly forty-five minutes late, she runs in the back to put her things away, then slips behind the bar to give Derek a hand. He’s been charming the lot of them, but could definitely use some help.

  Shortly after Emmy’s arrival, we become mobbed by more female customers. Women of all different sizes, shapes, and ages enter Rush, all hoping to catch a glimpse of Evan “Big Mac” McGuire. Some are carrying pictures of him, a few have miniature footballs in hand, and others hold rolled up posters of my boyfriend. They are clearly intending to get their trinkets signed by him today. It reminds me of the crowd that gathered to see Evan after the taping of Night After Night with Joey Griffin.

  I can overhear several of the conversations taking place at the tables. Before ordering, many of the women are asking if Evan is expected to appear at the restaurant today. One group actually gets up and walks out the door when they learn that he is not due to stop in today.

  Every time the door opens, a hush falls in the restaurant and necks crane to see who the latest arrival is. I look over at Derek, and rather than making drinks, he’s texting behind the bar. “Derek, what the hell? You know we don’t do that here,” I chastise him.

  “Relax, boss. You’ll thank me in about an hour,” he counters with a smirk on his face.

  “Thank you? For what, exactly?”

  “I just texted a few of our regular male customers. It’s ladies night in the middle of the day, for God’s sake. How often does that happen?” Derek seems very proud of his own ingenuity and joyfully returns to filling drink orders for the harem of groupies.

  I notice a few of the waitresses congregating near the service bar. None of them seem happy. Normally, a full restaurant means good tips and good tips means a happy staff. “Girls, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you taking care of the customers? Isn’t anyone’s food ready, yet?” I’ve only seen one or two tables served food since they’ve arrived. I hope Reese isn’t back to her old ways once again.

  “Jette, no one is ordering food. Hardly any of them are ordering alcohol, either. Most of them are ordering soft drinks and water,” Katie explains.

  “This sucks,” one of the other waitresses adds. “I’m not going to bust my ass for tables that aren’t even going to tip me,” she grumbles.

  They’re right. This is a restaurant, not a meeting hall for Evan’s fan club. Marcus steps in when he realizes what’s going on.

  “Marcus, I have to ask you to put aside your managerial duties and become a bouncer. Each seat is going to have a $10 minimum order. If they don’t want to order anything, we have to ask them to leave. Do you think that’s okay?” I know this is a bar, but it’s primarily a restaurant. We have to turn over the seats to paying customers if we’re going to make any money today.

  “I can do that. Let me get Ryker to help. Between the two of us, we should be able to get some orders placed and some seats opened up. Be right back.” Marcus elicits the help of Ryker, and together, they begin to go table-to-table, checking on orders and explaining our minimum order policy. I jump behind the bar to help Derek and Emmy who are starting to get slammed with drink orders.

  The longer this continues, the more uncomfortable I become. I pour drinks to try and keep my mind occupied while Marcus does his job, but my mood shifts abruptly from stressed to pissed off when I hear some conversations at the bar. Girls much younger than me are rehearsing pick up lines for Evan. One girl proudly shares her favorite, “If I told you I worked for UPS, would you let me handle your package?” Does she really think someone like Evan would be swept off his feet by that kind of crude come-on? Unbelievable.

  I can feel dozens of eyes boring holes into me as I scurry back and forth behind the bar. Although no one says it to my face, I know exactly what they’re all thinking, there’s nothing special about her. They are all wondering what someone like Evan is doing with someone like me. I think I even overheard one of them sa
y there’s no way I’m pretty enough to be dating Evan. It’s demoralizing and I feel like I’m back in high school all over again.

  The door swings open and in walks a pack of young men. Their faces light up when they see the hordes of young women gracing my establishment. They make their way over to the bar where Derek greets them. He shakes their hands and starts pouring them beers. He knows their drinks. They must be the regulars that Derek called earlier.

  Emmy comes over to me and asks if I could cover her so she could take a break. She looks every bit as distraught as I do. “Emmy, what’s up? Did one of those women say something to you?”

  “Damn right she did.” She points to the tall girl with jet-black hair and a beautiful olive complexion. She looks like she belongs on an ad for Hawaiian Tropic Suntan Lotion advertisement. “That whore wants to know if I’ve ever met Evan’s body guard, the tall blonde hottie that follows Evan everywhere he goes. She said she’s going to let all the bitches in the place fight it out for Evan, and she’s going to fuck Adam until he can’t see straight. Do you believe this shit?” She throws her apron down on the bar and marches off in a huff.

  The truth of the matter is that I do believe this shit. I’ve seen it all before. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

  What I really want to do is kick every last one of their asses out of my restaurant. I don’t want them anywhere near me or near Evan. If I could get away with it, I would tell them all that they are crazy psycho bitches who have no hope of ever getting someone like Evan to even look at them twice.

  Then it occurs to me, suppose Evan decides to stop by just to check on things? The team is still off for another week and he has nothing to do. I’m sure by now his personal trainer has come and gone and he’ll be looking for something to keep himself busy. After the way I intentionally ran into him this morning, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he decided to return the favor.

  I can feel my heart quicken. I begin to panic. The last thing I want to see happen is for Evan to walk in on this congregation of horny, insistent women. Just based on the sheer number that are here today, it seems mathematically likely that at least one of them may be unstable or aggressive. Suppose someone says something or gestures in a way that reminds him of Averee? How would he react?

  I pull Marcus away from his bouncer duties to cover me so I can call Evan. I slip into my office and close the door. I am relieved when he answers on the first ring. “Hey, gorgeous. I was just thinking about you.”

  “Hi Evan. I was just thinking about you, too. What are you up to?” I try to be as evasive as possible.

  “I’m in the car on my way to my parents’ house. I haven’t visited in a while, and my mother’s been hounding me to come home for dinner once before the season starts. I couldn’t put her off any longer. Listen, I’m halfway there, but just say the word and I’ll turn this car around and pick you up. Want to join us for dinner, Juliette? I know Mom would love to see you.”

  “Gosh, Evan, I can’t. Things are crazy here at Rush. They need me here.” I’m so relieved that he’s out of town. That means there won’t be any unwanted confrontations tonight.

  “Do you need me to help? I could be there in half an hour. Would an extra pair of hands help?”

  “No!” I answer way too quickly. “That’s okay. The lunch shift is almost over. It should slow down for a while until dinner. Don’t worry about it, Evan. We can handle it.”

  “Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind,” he insists.

  “Evan, no. We’ll be fine. I just called because I wanted to tell you that I saw your commercial this morning. It’s been playing all day today.”

  “Yeah, I saw it too. What did you think?” he asks.

  “It was amazing. Did they film it in the Sentinel’s workout room? It looked familiar.”

  “It was. I’m surprised you remember. You were only there that one time.”

  “Evan, I remember every place you’ve ever taken me.”

  He answers with one word, “Good.”

  “I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon. Please give everyone a hug for me.”

  “Okay. Go make us some money, baby. Juliette, one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember, I love you.”

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  I hang up the phone and return to the bar, sending Marcus back into the fray to deal with the crazed fans. Eventually Emmy calms down enough to return to her post. Periodically throughout the night, there are lulls where things are slow enough that we can actually talk a little.

  “Jette, I didn’t understand what it was like for you until tonight. I’m so sorry I didn’t take your problems more seriously.” She grabs me and hugs me tightly. “Tonight sucked balls, big time. We need a girls’ night out, don’t you think?”

  “Emmy, you have no idea how much I need a night out. What do you have in mind?”

  “Okay, here’s the plan. We’re closed on Monday and Tuesday, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Perfect. Monday, you’re going with me to get that tattoo Ryker designed. I was at Adrenaline today making an appointment and dropping off the art. You’re coming with me.”

  “Emmy, I’m so not getting a tattoo,” I warn her.

  “I know that, you don’t have an appointment, silly. I do. You’re just coming with. We’ll chill for a while. Then it’s me, you, Reese, and Camilla out for the night. No men, just us girls. We’re going to get shit-faced drunk, but it’s okay because none of us have work on Tuesday.”

  “We’ll need a designated driver, you know.”

  “Definitely. I’ll take care of the deets. Trust me. I’ll tell Camilla, and you tell Reese to clear her schedule for Monday night, got it?”

  “Got it.” Emmy skips and twirls off, happy as a lark. This completely crappy night just got a little better. A night out with my besties is exactly what I need.

  As soon as Emmy hears “All Night” by Icona Pop, she jumps off her barstool and grabs Reese’s hand, leading our small group to the tightly packed dance floor in her pink sequined mini dress. “Come on, girls. This is my jam!”

  Camilla gulps down what’s left of her Jack & Coke and stumbles towards the dance floor with them. She turns back, grabs my arm, and demands, “Jette, let’s go.” We stumble and giggle as we make our way through the massive crowd of moving bodies, each of us using the other for support.

  As the music blares with the rhythmic beat, we dance. “Dance” may be a bit of an exaggeration. It’s more like tightly packed rhythmic sensual moving. Reese moves her hips suggestively while raking her hands up and down her thin frame, getting lots of attention from the single men here tonight. Emmy gets her share of attention, too. She moves like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Reese,” I shout, “that hottie is totally checking you out.”

  She crooks her finger to call him over. She grabs his shirt and grinds with him on the dance floor. He leans in and says something to her that I can’t hear. They go back and forth for a minute, and then Reese releases him, pushes him away, and joins our little trio again. “He was friggin’ hot, Reese, what happened?”

  She shakes her head emphatically. “Pick up,” she hollers.

  “He was trying to pick you up?” Camilla asks.

  “No, he drives a pick up.” We all start laughing hysterically like it’s the funniest thing we’ve ever heard.

  The carnal atmosphere intensifies with each song that passes. As the effects of the alcohol begin to take effect, I let go, giving into to the beat of the music. I sway to the rhythmic pulsing and pounding, releasing the stress and strain of the past few weeks.

  “You’re beautiful,” someone yells by my ear.

  It is a lie, no doubt. The sweat is now beading on my temples and on the back of my neck, my hair clumping together from the damp perspiration. I don’t care, I’m not here looking for men tonight.

  I smile at the dark-haired young man, close my eyes, and imagine he’s someone else, the
only man I really want to dance with. As we dance together, he places his hands on my hips, matching his moves to mine.

  Emmy weaves herself between us, breaking us apart, and forcing the mystery man to take a step back. “Step off, sweetie. It’s ladies’ night. No boys allowed.” My new friend laughs and turns, having little difficulty locating a new dance partner.

  The longer we stay on the dance floor, the hotter we get. Despite the small lightweight dress I chose for tonight, I can feel the sweat drip down the open back. The gyrating bodies and thumping bass are making the temperature rise with each song that passes.

  I need another drink to cool off. I make a drinking motion with my hand and the girls all point to the ground, indicating that they’re staying put. I push my way through the crowd to the packed bar. Thankfully, I get served quickly. With my SoCo and lime in hand, I turn to watch my friends on the dance floor. For three tipsy women, they sure can move quite well. A sudden shove at my back has me nearly spilling my drink all over the floor. When I turn to see my assailant, I can tell immediately that he’s drunk out of his mind.

  “Hey, gorgeous. Wanna dance?” he stammers.

  Dance? This clown can barely stand up. I seriously doubt this guy could walk, let alone dance, without falling flat on his face. I’ve been dealing with over-confident drunken guys for some time now, so I know I need to let him down easily with his false bravado intact. “Oh, sorry. I’m a lesbian, I don’t dance with men.” That usually does the trick quite nicely.

  He grabs my arm and takes me completely by surprise. “Oh, a challenge. I love a challenge, babe.” He pulls me to him, I can smell the stench of stale whiskey as he breathes in my ear, “One night with me will change your life.”

  “Get your hands off me,” I grunt in my best ‘don’t fuck with me’ voice.