Strike Out (Barlow Sisters Book 2)

by Jordan Ford

  “Who’s so hot.” Max’s mocking tone makes me laugh.

  She gives me a pointed glare, her true angst shining through.

  No way, she’s jealous.

  Man, whoever said something to her really got her worked up. Or maybe she just observed the way those girls scream at me from the floor.

  I used to love it at first. Made me feel like a king.

  Until I realized how shallow it all was.

  That’s why I started making sure I had a girlfriend. It keeps me unavailable. Girls can try it on, but I can just say I’m not a cheater and they tend to back off.

  I wonder if Max would understand that if I told her.

  Shit, she’d probably think I was lining her up to be the next one. It’s not even like that. I offered her guitar lessons because I knew she wanted them.

  I didn’t expect to like doing it quite so much.

  Crossing my arms, I rest them on the top of my guitar and catch her eye before talking. “I can see you’re pissed. And I feel like you’re trying to trap me into saying something. To maybe admit that I’m a man whore, which I’m not. Or that I like having three or four girls hanging off me any chance I can get, which I don’t. I’m not that kind of guy.”

  Her scowl deepens as her blue eyes try to read me. She thinks I’m lying.

  Wow. Okay.

  With a bemused laugh, I wave my hand in the air. “You think I’m lying.”

  “Of course I think you’re lying. You have a rep. You’re popular and pretty, and it makes sense that you sleep around and take advantage of this amazing opportunity.”

  “I’m still a virgin!” I snap, then flush with embarrassment.

  I can’t believe I just blurted that out.

  Max’s lips part with surprise and I work my jaw to the side as I look at the floor between us.

  “I swear, Max, I’m seriously not the guy everyone thinks I am. Yes, I’ve had girlfriends, but I’ve never gotten super serious with any of them. And I’m not into one-night stands. I think they’re shallow and I would never treat a girl like that, even if she wanted me to.”

  I glance up. Her eyes are still kind of narrowed, but my virgin confession has really thrown her. I think she can tell I wasn’t lying when I said it.

  Puffing out a little sigh, I lean back and try to think of a reasonable way to convince her that rumors suck and I’m not the guy people say I am. “You know, if you want to get to know me better, you should come out with me sometime. See what I’m like when I’m not teaching you guitar.”

  Her expression turns from guarded to unimpressed. “I did see what you’re like when you’re not teaching me guitar.”

  “I was performing,” I retort, probably too forcefully. “That’s not what I’m like all the time. If you don’t believe me, let me show you. We’ll go out, just you and me.”

  “Like on a date?”

  The idea makes me smile before I can stop myself. “If you want.”

  She scoffs and jumps to her feet, wagging her finger at me while she places the guitar down. “You know, you’re just a little too smooth for your own good. No wonder the girls come flocking. Asking me if I want to hang out.” She puts on a husky voice.

  I snicker and stand so I can look her in the eye. “If you want to know if there’s more to me than just music and what you saw on that stage, then we need to hang out more. That’s not being smooth, it’s just common sense.”

  “Of course it is!” She forces out a laugh but cuts it short, pointing her finger at my chest. “You said date, Mr. Smooth. That’s so completely different than simply hanging out.”

  “Actually, you said date, not me. And all you have to do is say no if you don’t like my offer.”

  She goes a little goldfish on me, her mouth opening and closing as I steal the wind from her oh so righteous sails.

  The alarm on her watch starts ringing, warning her that she’s due home in twenty minutes.

  Max flinches and then starts packing up the guitars. I silently help her, slightly comforted by the stunned look on her face. I can’t help feeling just a little justified. She was being kind of judgmental over the whole man whore/groupie thing, and I really hope she gives me a chance to prove her wrong.

  “How do I know you won’t just put on an act? The same way you do when you get on a stage.”

  I carefully take the guitar from her and slot it into the storage holder. “It’s called faith, Max.”

  “Faith?”

  “Yeah, you have to believe that I’m not just some smooth Casanova who’s trying it on with you. I offered you guitar lessons because I could tell you wanted them. Now I’m offering to spend some time with you so that you can stop making assumptions about me.”

  She swallows, still cautious.

  I smile, hoping to make her feel better. “I’ll make you a deal.” I stick out my hand. “You be real with me, and I’ll be real with you. No bullshit.”

  After a small hesitation, she wraps her fingers around mine and whispers, “No bullshit.”

  17

  Song Lyrics and Purple Bruising

  MAX

  Cairo wants to hang out with me. He wants to show me what he’s really like.

  To be honest, after the conversation we just had, I think I do know what he’s really like, and I feel bad for making all those assumptions about him. Rumors are hard to ignore and he did admit to having girlfriends, but he’s still a virgin. I can’t believe he told me that, but by the look on his face it was so obviously true.

  I guess just because every girl wants to get with him doesn’t mean he wants that too.

  That chick from the club totally messed with me. She saw what she wanted to see, believed in her own little fantasies, even though they weren’t true.

  But me, I’m going to see the truth.

  Because I will hang out with Cairo. I’ll spend the whole frickin’ day with him if I have to. In fact, I won’t stop hanging out with him until I’m satisfied I know exactly who he is.

  A smile jumps across my face as my ulterior motive taps me on the back of the head.

  You don’t want to hang out with him to find out if he’s real. You want to hang out because you like him!

  I snicker and tip my head, acknowledging the honest voice in my heart.

  One-on-one time with Cairo—guitar free.

  Not that I need it to be guitar free. Playing with him this afternoon, the free-style stuff we did, with the made-up chord sequence and squishing in those Good Charlotte lyrics. That was cool.

  But hanging out with Cairo just because he wants to spend time with me. That’s something else entirely. That shifts our dynamics from teacher-student to friends…or maybe something else.

  I wish it could be something else.

  I wish I could tell if he liked me. I wonder how hard his heart beats when he’s around me. Does he struggle to breathe the way I do?

  Probably not. He’s way too cool for that.

  But he wants to hang out with me.

  To prove a point—maybe.

  “Have a little faith, Max,” I whisper. “If he didn’t like you at all, he wouldn’t have offered anything.”

  I shuffle to the car. Chloe’s leaning against the passenger door, waiting for me.

  “Hey, sis.” She gives me her classic smile.

  It’s kind of dim these days. It has been ever since she caught Maddie and Holden kissing.

  In her usual way, she played the bigger person and patched things up with Mads. I swear, she has the biggest heart on the planet.

  “How’s the charity thing going with Rahn?” I ask, starting up the engine and pulling out of school.

  “Yeah, good. She’s involved with so many things. It’s nice to be able to help her out.”

  “What exactly are you guys doing?” I check that the street is clear and then turn for home.

  “Well, this afternoon we spent a couple of hours going door-to-door selling candy bars to raise money for a village in Somalia. Her little b
rothers came with us and I’m pretty sure their cuteness amped up our sales big-time.”

  I grin and share a quick look with my sister.

  “And the other thing I’m getting involved with is volunteer work at St. Michael’s Catholic Church on the northwest side of town. Rahn helps out there a couple of times a week, serving dinner to the homeless and families on the poverty line.”

  “Northwest. Isn’t that Mancini territory?”

  “Yes.” Chloe nods. “But they leave the church alone, because it’s not a threat to anyone. I think even bad guys have their boundaries.”

  I cringe. “Does Dad know you’re doing that?”

  “Sort of.” She shrugs. “I mean, I told Mom and she says as long as we always take a car, and always go together, then it should be okay. Even if she said no, I’d still do it, though. That part of town needs love and attention. I don’t think Mayor Carter’s hard-ass, ‘let’s arrest them all’ mentality is the best way to handle these people. Some of them are just victims of their upbringing. They didn’t choose to be a drug addict’s kid. They didn’t ask to be neighbors to someone who will beat the crap out of them if they don’t pay a protection fee.”

  My eyes bulge. “Protection fee? Seriously?”

  “Apparently.” Chloe smooths back her hair. “Rahn told me the Mancinis have a pretty ominous reign and the reason the police can never get witness statements is because everyone’s too afraid to talk.”

  “Whoa,” I murmur. “I wonder how Dad arriving has impacted them.”

  “I’m pretty sure they hate him.” She snickers.

  “Do they know you’re his daughter?”

  She shrugs but gives me a stubborn look. “Helping those homeless people is the right thing to do. I’m not gonna stop just because I’m Reece Barlow’s daughter. But I’m also not going to be shouting my name from the rooftops, either. They just know I’m Chloe. That’s it.”

  “Well, just be careful, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “You’ve got a good heart, Chlo-Chlo.”

  “Thanks.” Her tone is unenthusiastic. She’s probably thinking, “If my heart’s so damn good, why does nobody want it!”

  I nearly break into the you’re young, you have your whole life to find true love speech, but I bite my lips against it. No one wants to hear that crap when they’re feeling rejected. It’s so patronizing.

  My phone beeps with a message that I can’t really check while I’m driving. Chloe reaches for my phone just as hers starts singing.

  “Maddie,” we say in unison, then glance at each other and laugh.

  Chloe checks her phone. “She’s forgotten something at school so is running back to get it. She’ll be home for dinner.”

  “I wonder what she got up to this afternoon.”

  “I think she was working on some group assignment in the library.”

  I snicker. “Maddie hates group assignments. She’ll probably be in a really foul mood when she gets home.”

  Chloe rolls her eyes. “Hopefully she can run off some steam and feel better when she walks in the door.”

  “Fingers crossed!” I chuckle, kind of relieved that she’s not in the car with us.

  Leaning forward, I flick on the stereo.

  “The Other Side” by Tonight Alive comes blasting out and I start singing right away. Chloe eventually joins me and I pump up the volume so we can rock our way home.

  We’re laughing by the time we arrive and I’m once again struck by the power of music.

  Why can’t I be honest about that?

  Slamming the door shut, I shove the question aside, not wanting to dampen the happy tone I’ve managed to set. Chloe flicks her hair over her shoulder and runs around the car to wrap her arm around my waist.

  “Love you, Maxy.”

  “Love you too, Chlo.” I squeeze her shoulder and we walk into the house together.

  Mom greets us with a tired smile. I pretend it’s not there. I don’t think I have it in me to cheer up two mopey people. Music doesn’t work on Mom the way it does on Chloe. I don’t even know what to say to make it better. If she doesn’t find a job soon, she’s going to self-combust. I wish I could magically make one appear, but life doesn’t work that way.

  “Where’s Maddie?” Mom looks over my shoulder at the back door.

  “She forgot something at school and ran back to get it.” I pull out my phone and check to make sure she hasn’t sent me any new texts since that one.

  “You couldn’t wait for her? How’s she supposed to get home?”

  “She likes to run for fitness,” I mumble, not wanting to go into the fact I didn’t question Maddie running home later than usual because it saved me a car ride, which meant I could evade her questions about what I’ve been up to all afternoon.

  “It’s going to be dark soon.” Mom tuts.

  “She’ll be home for dinner.”

  Mom gives me a stern look and I sigh, texting Maddie that she can call me for a ride if she wants one.

  I whip my phone around and show Mom. “Happy?”

  “Thank you.” Her blue gaze hits mine before she waves her hand at the door. “Go wash up for dinner. And you may as well knock off a little homework too. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I salute her before stalking out of the kitchen and down to my room.

  I seriously hate homework but manage to motivate myself to at least open my laptop and check my assignments for the week.

  “That can wait,” I murmur. “That can wait.”

  I’m lying to myself, of course. I’m going to have to pull an all-nighter to complete some of this stuff, but I just don’t feel like studying right now.

  What I feel like doing is writing lyrics.

  Cairo’s chord progression plays in the back of my mind. I close my eyes, tapping my foot and feeling the guitar in my hand. My fingers shift in the air, keeping in time as Cairo’s fancy melody plays over top of me.

  “Is it just a dream, what I’m feeling. The magic things that you do just get me singing. Blech.” I poke out my tongue. “Get me singing, I can do better than that.”

  Sitting up straight, I hold my air guitar and try again.

  “Is it just a dream, what I’m feeling. The magic in your eyes gets my heart beating…racing…” I take a breath and sing again. “The magic in your eyes gets my heart racing. What is this power? You must be a spell caster.” I take in a breath and draw a blank on what could come next.

  I don’t like those last two lines anyway.

  But the first aren’t too bad.

  Grabbing a scrap of paper out of my bag, I scribble down the first two lines of lyrics, tapping my pen on the paper as inspiration hits me again.

  Out of control you’re a spell caster, I’m helpless.

  Surreal’s the only way I can think to describe it.

  I cross out the last line and write:

  There is no potion that’s strong enough to break this spell.

  Fitting in that many words means changing up the tune a little, but it could work.

  “Max?” Dad’s voice makes me flinch. I quickly shove the paper into my bag as he appears in my doorway.

  “Hey, Dad. Home early tonight.”

  He hitches his pants and nods. “We had a quiet one today.”

  “That’s good.” I grin and bob my head. “Quiet’s good.”

  “How was your extra practice this afternoon?”

  “Practice?” My blood runs cold. How’d he find out I was practicing with Cairo?

  “Yeah, didn’t you stay late to work on your ground ball with some of the guys?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I, um… of course I did. Sorry, my mind was just in homework mode.” I force a grin and blink a couple of times, trying to look innocent while my mind scrambles for a way to cover myself. When did I say I was working on my ground ball? I must have blurted it out this morning.

  Shit. Will Dad follow up? What if he bumps into some of the guys on the team and asks th
em about it?

  “Dinner’s up.” Dad slaps the doorframe and nods his head towards the dining room. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay,” I squeak, kind of wishing he was working late again.

  Life has been much easier with him being so busy. He’s hardly ever home these days. Taking a breath, I will my nerves to settle as I trail him down to the dining room.

  Chloe’s already seated.

  “Maddie still not back yet?” I pull out my chair.

  “Nope.” Chloe shakes her head but then gives me a worried frown.

  “Hon, maybe you should go and get her.” Mom places a green salad on the table.

  “She should be here soon,” I murmur, reaching into my pocket to check my phone.

  “Hey, no phones at the table.” Dad snaps his fingers at me and then looks to Mom. “If she’s not home in ten minutes, I’ll head out and pick her up.”

  I slide my phone away and bow my head as Dad says grace.

  As soon as we start eating, Chloe launches into a funny story about Rahn’s little brothers, which gets me off the hook.

  I quietly shovel food into my mouth, hoping to finish up fast so I can skip out early and get back to my songwriting.

  The back door clicks open and a tension I didn’t even know I was carrying pops free inside of me.

  Phew. Maddie’s home.

  I guess I was more worried than I thought.

  Scraping the fork over my plate, I prepare another mouthful as Dad calls out, “You’re late.”

  “Maxine, I told you not to wait for her text,” Mom chides, pointing her fork at me.

  I spread my arms wide. “She likes to run home.”

  “Well, I don’t like it. Especially in this town! I should have just made you go and pick her up.” Mom spins in her chair, beckoning Maddie to the table.

  She’s taking her time in the kitchen, no doubt to avoid a grilling. I bet she didn’t expect Dad to be home.

  “Your mom’s right, Maddie. You shouldn’t have run home this late. It’s already dark out.” Dad lifts a large forkful of pasta to his mouth. “Don’t let it happen again.”