by Magan Vernon
“Well, that isn’t stopping us from going shopping.” Jordan laughed.
“You? Shopping? The only shopping I’ve ever seen you do is for art supplies, and last I heard, you were still boycotting that hobby shop.”
Jordan raised his fist. “Down with the man! Buy local!”
“I see you’ve kept up with your hippie ways. At least you shower now and cut your hair.”
Jordan ran his fingers through his hair. “What? You don’t miss that long, wannabe rock star hair? By wannabe rock star, I mean I pretty much sucked on the guitar but played because it annoyed the hell out of my dad.”
I put my hand up, running my fingers through his now shorter undercut. “I like this look, and I like the hippie and the hipster. The artist and the New Yorker.”
Jordan smiled, removing my hand from his hair and intertwining our fingers. “And I like the Abbey willing to try for me. You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about having you with me. I thought about calling you so many times or, hell, just coming back here for you. But it’s not like my parents were helping me in New York, and I was running on empty. I wasn’t going to come back here and say I fucked everything up and had to move home because I failed at being an artist. I wasn’t even sure I could fail because I don’t think my parents would have ever let me live it down. So I stayed and decided to make something of myself.”
He ran his finger over the bridge of my knuckles. “When Grams died, Mom called and said she’d get me a plane ticket to come in. I knew it might be the only chance I had to get back with you, and I had to take it. I was making plans for some big romantic gesture, and then when you showed up in the attic, it was like fate pointed you to me. Like we were both where we were meant to be.”
I smiled, squeezing his hand. “And what would you have done if I didn’t show up? If Joey wouldn’t have cheated on me and you didn’t have to fix my mom’s fence?”
Jordan laughed, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing each knuckle. “I’d have to fix the fence, the porch, whatever else need be. I knew I wasn’t going to leave Friendship unless you came with me, and I’m happy as hell you are.”
“I’m happy too, Jordan.”
And for the first time in a long time, I was honest when I said it. I was genuinely happy and felt like nothing could mess it up, not even dinner with my dad.
But before dinner, Jordan pulled into a downtown area and parked in front of a store with a hand-lettered sign.
“What kind of place is this?” I asked, staring at the mannequins in the window wearing brightly colored dresses and afro wigs.
“It’s a vintage store. I found it online and thought it was the perfect place to find a costume for you. Who knows, maybe we can even find some matching Dumb and Dumber suits!” he said way too excitedly as he got out of the truck.
I got out, taking his hand as we walked into the store with some old Motown playing over the speakers and the faint smell of mothballs hanging in the air. A bored-looking girl behind the counter gave us a quick greeting and told us to let her know if we needed help finding anything. But Jordan was a man on a mission, already combing through the racks.
“What are we looking for exactly? Overalls? Something plaid?” I asked, following his quick moving hands.
“Something like this!” Jordan turned around, holding up a long black dress with slits that went practically up to the hips.
I gawked. “I don’t think that’s the nineties.”
“Sure it is. Either way, you’re gonna look hot in it, so you should try it on,” he said, shoving the dress at me.
“Okay … only if you try on something too,” I said, awkwardly grabbing at the rack behind me until I pulled up a brown plaid suit.
“If this isn’t my size and the redhead sees my ass, it’s your fault.” He smirked, grabbing the suit.
I smacked his butt as we walked toward the dressing rooms, which were basically little curtained off areas in the back of the store. “I’d be okay with that.”
I got into one of the little purple curtained rooms, and Jordan got in the other. Slowly, I peeled off my top and leggings and stared at the little black dress. I usually wore a large, but this was a medium, and I was wondering if I could even get it over my head.
“Ready yet?” Jordan yelled.
“Just a minute,” I muttered, taking the crushed velvet dress off the hanger and sliding it on, tugging it over my chest and stomach.
Before I could pull the long bottom down, the curtain to my right opened. I gasped, whirling around as the curtain closed and Jordan stood there, still in his plaid shirt, grinning from ear to ear.
“Jordan! What are you doing?” I whispered, wondering if the sales girl saw what he was doing.
“I knew you wouldn’t come out to let me see you in this dress, so I had to get a good look for myself,” he said softly, running his hands down my side. “And I have to say I like it.”
“Well, now that you’ve seen it, get out of here so I can change back! There’s no way in hell I’m getting this thing! My ass is hanging out of it!” I swatted his arm, but he grabbed both of my hands and pinned them above my head then pushed me against the wall with his hips.
“I like your ass hanging out,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above mine.
“Jordan,” I whispered as one hand let go of my wrist, and the other trailed down my side until he was on the bare skin of my hip.
I stared into his eyes as his fingers trailed from my thighs to the front of my panties before he pushed them aside with rough fingers, and his thumb swiped along my center.
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even breathe as he slid one finger inside me and pressed his thumb to my clit.
I’d never done something so public, so exposing. But when my body built up to the brink just from his fingers, I couldn’t help arching my back and moving my hips back and forth to the same rhythm as his fingers.
He crashed his lips to mine, savoring me as my orgasm took hold and I came hard on his expert fingers.
I moved my hands to the giant belt buckle on his jeans, unbuckling and unzipping, wanting to feel more of him. It was reckless and probably crazy, but one orgasm and I couldn’t stop.
“Excuse me! Only one person in the dressing room at a time, and if you two are fucking in those clothes, you’re buying them!” the sales girl yelled, banging on the wall behind us.
Jordan stopped kissing me and pulled back, a low laugh escaping from deep in his throat. “Be right out, ma’am.”
He looked down at me, licking his lips. “Continue this later? And in that dress?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
Chapter 14
I couldn’t look at the sales girl as we walked out of the dressing room and paid for the dress. I wasn’t sure I could even put that on before Christy’s party without blushing. Or how the hell I was going to go to my dad’s after having an orgasm in a dressing room.
At least the orgasm calmed my nerves a bit before we had to make the trek to the North Dallas suburbs and my dad’s home.
I guess Dad had always wanted to live in one of the bigger suburbs in a neighborhood with an HOA and big brick homes.
Mom never wanted to leave the big farmhouse in tiny Friendship, Texas, that she and Dad had bought shortly after they married. I guess Mom had this grand idea that they would grow closer and have more to discuss besides their jobs if they spent time fixing up the house. Instead, it just gave them more to fight about, and then I came along, adding no free time and a falling down house.
Of course, Mom eventually got contractors in to fix the big stuff—like get indoor plumbing before I was born—but Dad still didn’t want anything to do with it. And it took him eighteen years before I guess he finally decided he didn’t want the house or Mom and me and wanted his secretary and brick two story that was so close to the neighbor I swore they could almost be attached.
“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding about these houses,” Jordan grumbled, the t
ruck practically crawling down the narrow street, lined with cars on each side in front of the giant brick homes. I swore each of them was twice the size of Mom’s place with a yard about the size of my bathroom.
“There’s Dad’s place. Up there.” I pointed at the home on the corner, double checking my phone to make sure I had the right address. I’d been to his place a grand total of three times and didn’t exactly have it memorized.
“Are you sure it isn’t one of the other million houses that look exactly like it?”
I wrinkled my nose, spotting the open garage door with Dad and Missy’s matching Range Rovers parked inside. “This is definitely the place,” I muttered.
Jordan pulled into their small driveway and stared up at their house as he tossed his trucker cap and flannel shirt in the back. “Better get rid of these, or the neighbors are gonna talk and think some hood rat nineties kids are here to rob the Dillinger’s.”
Jordan and I walked up the cobblestone pathway to the large wooden double doors with the Texas lone stars carved into the front.
“Texans are serious about their stars,” Jordan muttered.
I nudged his shoulder with mine. “You know you missed it.”
“Yeah. There’s nothing like a bunch of giant metal stars on people’s houses to show state pride.”
“What does New York have? Apples?” I asked.
Jordan smiled, shaking his head. “Quit stalling and ring the doorbell.”
I rolled my eyes and pressed the bell, the ringing echoing throughout the brick entryway.
Less than a minute later, the door was thrown open, and Dad stood there, grinning from ear to ear in his pressed golf polo and khakis. “Abbey! Jordan! You made it! I was afraid you’d be like your mother and give a last-minute excuse. Come in, come in!” Dad motioned us into the foyer with its grand staircase, marble floors, and the bright chandelier above us.
“Mom doesn’t always do that,” I scoffed, already on the defense, and we had just stepped in.
“You do the same thing,” Jordan said, nudging my shoulder as we followed Dad out of the foyer, past his pristine office, and into the open-air living room that was attached to the bright white kitchen. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out at their sparkling blue pool, which basically consumed their entire backyard.
“This is a far cry from Friendship, Mr. Dillinger, but it’s beautiful,” Jordan said, looking up at the cathedral ceilings.
Missy appeared out of nowhere or the playroom on the other side of the kitchen. She looked, as always, like she just walked off a runway in her floral sundress and beach waves with her perfectly airbrushed makeup. “Well, we like the place. Close to work for Keith and I was able to use the spare room upstairs to set up my office.”
Missy closed the distance between us and clasped my hand. “Oh! By the way, I have a new color in that I think you’re going to love! And it won’t kiss off on your cowboy,” she said, shooting a wink in Jordan’s direction that made my skin crawl.
“I’m not much of a lipstick wearer,” I stuttered. The same thing I’d told her every single time I talked to her.
She waved her free hand. “That’s because you’ve never tried my lipstick! Remind me, and I’ll pack you some samples before you leave.”
I reminded myself not to remind her.
“Mommy, is dinner ready yet?” My half-brother Erwin walked out of his playroom, dressed like a little J Crew toddler in his little polo and khaki shorts with boat shoes. The kid freaking dressed better than I did.
“Not yet, sweetie. Daddy’s going to put the steaks on the grill now that your sister, Abbey, is here. Wanna say hi to Abbey and Jordan?” Missy asked, blinking her big blue eyes at Erwin and giving us the same puppy dog look.
“Hi, Abbey. Hi, Jordan,” Erwin said, waving.
“Keith, how long will those steaks take?” Missy asked, giving my father a look that I didn’t know was condescending or pushy.
Dad smiled, squeezing my shoulder before he headed to their giant Sub-Zero fridge and pulled out a tray of steaks that must be at least an inch thick. “On this infrared grill, it’s usually about seven minutes to a perfect steak. It’s amazing,” Dad said, I don’t know who he was trying to impress but he looked back and forth between Jordan and me.
“Wow. Cool,” Jordan said, trying to fake his enthusiasm.
“Come with me, Jor. You can see how this baby works,” Dad said, motioning to Jordan.
“I come to?” Erwin asked, looking up at Dad with his big blue eyes.
“It’s ‘Can I come too,’” Missy corrected.
Erwin sighed, sagging his shoulders. “Can I come too, Daddy?”
Dad laughed. “Sure, sport.”
Jordan raised his eyebrows in question. I wanted to scream ‘don’t leave me with Barbie,’ but I couldn’t exactly do that, so I just smiled as he walked out the sliding glass door, following Erwin and Dad to the small patio.
“How about a drink, Abbey?” Missy asked, practically floating to the small wet bar next to the living room. Why one needed that when it was literally ten steps from the kitchen was beyond me.
“Uh. Sure.”
I’d need all the alcohol if I was going to get through this night.
“Your dad and I took a mixology and wine pairing class that said red wine goes best with steak, but I’m not much of a red fan, so I can make us some martinis, or I think I have a few bottles of white in the wine chiller.”
A martini sounded like a good idea to get hammered, but then I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep my mouth shut around Missy, and Jordan would have to drive my drunk ass home. Christy would never forgive me if I missed her party.
“A glass of white would be lovely,” I said, forcing a smile.
“That’s my girl,” Missy said with a wink, pulling a bottle out of the mini fridge and grabbing two crystal glasses from a rack above the sink.
I wasn’t her girl. I wasn’t her anything, except possibly able to pass as her older sister, not younger; I think the girl had better skin than I did.
Missy poured us each a glass then walked over to me, handing me the one in her right hand. “So tell me, Abbey, it’s been a while. What have you been up to? Still working at that repair shop?”
Holy shit, it had been a while since I talked to Dad and Missy. I quit the car repair shop I was working at in Lavon over a year ago. The bakery gave me a more flexible schedule, and I didn’t always smell like oil and tires.
“No. Actually, I’m working part-time at a bakery and still doing photography work for a studio out of Richardson,” I said, taking a tiny sip of my wine when I just wanted to take a giant gulp.
“Oh! I didn’t know you worked for a photography studio! Erwin’s birthday is coming up, and I’d love to get some family portraits!” Missy looked at me over her glass, grinning so wide I thought her face would split.
“Uh. It’s not exactly a studio. It’s a company that does school portraits.”
“Oh.” Missy’s smile faded as she took a sip of her drink.
“But I do some photos on the side. I actually just did a newborn session.”
“Oh! Do you have the pictures? I love looking at baby pictures! It might get me baby fever, but you know I’ve got an empire to build before I can think about baby number two!” Missy said with a giggle.
“Yeah … I think I have some on my phone.” I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and opened my photo app, scrolling through until I came to Christy’s nephew’s newborn session and handed my phone to Missy.
“Oh em gee! These are so sweet! Did you really do these?” she asked, glancing up at me then continued scrolling.
“Yeah. Took those at my friend’s ranch.”
“And these! These could be in a magazine!”
“I didn’t think they were that good,” I muttered.
“Not the baby. These,” Missy exclaimed, turning my phone around so I could see the screen filled with the pictures I took of Jordan at The Harbor. Shit. I should ha
ve known Missy was the type of girl to keep scrolling. Luckily, there weren’t any nudes of him there. Those were reserved for Snapchat.
“Oh. Yeah. That was just me and Jordan playing around at The Harbor,” I muttered, taking my phone and shoving it back into my pocket.
Missy shook her head, her blond curls flying around her head. “If that’s just joking around, then I’d love to see you not joking around. You know I have some photographer friends. Most are in New York, but some are in Dallas if you’re interested in any kind of internships or being an assistant and learn some of the ropes. They’re mostly fashion photographers, but some have been in national magazines.”
“Actually, I’m going to New York with Jordan at the end of the month,” I blurted without even thinking about it.
Missy squealed and clapped her hands before she ran to the counter, picking up her phone. “Oh em gee! That’s so exciting! Let me message Jean and Lucian and see what they’re doing. Oh, they’re fabulous! Oh, they’ll be thrilled to have you! And, of course, I’ll have to visit. I mean I’ve put on about five pounds since having Erwin, but I’d love to shoot again,” Missy rambled off, furiously typing on her phone.
“Oh. Uh. You don’t have to do that,” I muttered.
Missy squealed. “It’s done! And Jean asked for your email, phone number, and portfolio!”
“What?” I blinked, not sure I heard her right.
Missy turned the phone in my direction, showing me the messenger app, where sure enough, there was a small picture on the side of the beautiful-looking man in a tailored suit with the same words she just told me.
“I don’t even know if I have a portfolio. Oh, my God. I have to make one!” I put my hand to my chest. None of the other photographers I talked to on Facebook asked for that, though they were mainly wedding photographers, happy just to talk to someone as an unpaid assistant.
“That’s easy! Those pictures of Jordan will be perfect to start, and if you want, we can go to my office and look for some more before the boys get back inside.”
I stared at the woman who I wanted to hate for so long because she broke up my family. But now, I saw the woman who actually seemed to want to help me for more than just lipstick. The one who could help me with a future in New York.