by S. E. Hall
“Who the fuck is David?”
“The other guy,” she argues. “As in, not you.”
“David? Do you mean Kasey?”
“Okay,” she holds out her hands, palms up, and shakes her head, “Kasey works.”
“I think I’m caught up. And Kasey bounces, which means I tend bar. Dane knows this.”
“I know what?”
Where the fuck is he always hiding that he keeps popping up like a creeper? This place isn’t that big.
“That I work even when Kasey does. Gidge is mad I’m missing Crew Night.”
“Baby,” he wraps his arms around her, “leave him be.
He’s smitten.”
“No!” Her jaw drops. “Are you really? You?”
“Fuck no,” I laugh mockingly. “It’s her first night on the floor. I need to make sure she’s all right. That’s my job.” Truth be told, I’ve thought of nothing but the taste and feel of her kiss since it happened and how I can make it happen again. I’ve retold her cute little stories in my head a thousand times, recapturing the image of her big, curious eyes alight with fascination as I told her mine.
Let the record show—I knew the minute I saw her that she was amazing and I was right. Oh, and I’ve definitely edged precariously close to actually growing a vagina. I can’t help it and, to tell the truth, I don’t want to help it; I fucking like her. A lot. I think about talking to her as much, if not more, than I think about sliding into her sweet body. Even I know that means something.
Dane scoffs into Laney’s neck, which he’s currently eating. “Doing a helluva job, man. Very thorough.”
“All right, go on, Saw Saw, be happy. But next Thursday night there are no excuses.” Laney points at me and glares. “You will spend time with us.”
“Promise.” I air kiss her. “Have fun tonight. You too, Daney.”
He flips me off, never lifting his head.
Evan and Whitley are coming up the walk as I’m heading down it. “Hey, stranger!” Evan gives me a bro hug and then I kiss Whitley’s cheek. “Where you been?”
“Same place I’ve always been; here, work, or school.
How are you guys?”
“Real good. Are you not staying tonight?” Whitley pops out her bottom lip.
“Nah, I gotta work. But I’ll be there next Thursday, I swear. This fool taking care of you?” I punch Evan’s shoulder when I ask her.
“You know he is,” she snuggles into his side, “and I’m taking care of him right back.”
All right, I’ve had enough. I’m starting to get a fucking toothache.
“I’m late, so I’ll see you later.” I start walking and wave behind my head. “Thursday!”
I adore my friends, but if one more of them blocks my path to Emmett, I may lose my shit. If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem, people! I haven’t seen her in three days, and...I miss her? Shit, I really do. I want to talk to her, ask what she’s been doing, what does she need, did she miss me too?
At least two traffic laws are broken by the time I pull up to at The K in perfect time to see Emmett climbing out of a cab. The driver watches her walk away and I’m making my way to claw his fucking eyes out when Emmett steps in front of me.
“Hi!”
I give Shit Sack a glare, memorizing his cab number, then lower my eyes to her. “Hey, Shorty, your car broke down?”
“I don’t have a car. And I’m not that short,” she punches my chest, “you’re just really tall.”
She is that short, but I like it. She’s tiny and precious...and not taking a taxi ever again.
“You don’t have a car? You must spend a fortune on cabs.” I open the door for her, using one hand on her back to guide her in. As she brushes by me, I take my sniff, immediately missing my dose of Red. Did she forget or is she out?
“Not really. The bus runs everywhere I need to go but here. The raise in pay more than makes it worth it, though.”
I give Kasey a quick nod as we walk in, still listening to her. “I’ll meet you at the bar in a minute if you wanna put your stuff up.”
“K.” She hurries toward the break room, turning back once to catch me watching.
I’m not ashamed I was caught gawking, but I’m curious as hell what made her look back. Could it be possible that I dented that fucking wall around her? A big enough dent that I can lecture her on how I feel about her mode of transportation?
Yeah, probably too soon.
Stomping up the stairs, I take deep breaths and start shooting Laney texts. If she took a taxi here, that means she’ll take one home. At the end of her shift. At two in the fucking morning. Hell. No.
Sawyer: Do you know a spray or perfume or wtf ever called Red?
Sawyer: How much for that Accord you never drive?
I’m pacing, watching my phone like it holds the meaning of life. The thought of that angelic creature in a cab at 2 am being eye fucked by a greasy driver like the one who dropped her off has me wanting to smash shit.
Laney: Bath & Body Works. Y?
Sawyer: Where’s that?
She does know who texted her, right? She may as well have answered in Chinese.
Laney: The mall.
Sawyer: Thnx G.
Laney: SMITTEN. I think it’s great. Bring her Thurs?
Sawyer: We’ll see.
Dane: If you need a car, it’s yours.
Sawyer: I need a car. Take $300/month from my check.
Dane: Or you can have it. Her car a POS?
Scary fuck. He’s freakier than that Copperfield guy on TV. He’s a lot like me; when we decide it’s ours, God help anyone who stands in our way or “tells us how.” Except he’s much worse and damn near crazy with it, so I know I don’t have to explain to him why the bold play so early in the game. In fact, Dane’s probably wondering what took me so long. I can almost hear him screaming “interweave all the fuck up in there and conquer!” at his phone.
Sawyer: Or non-existent.
Dane: All yours. I’ll give Laney the key. Do not demand sexual favors in return for helping her.
Sawyer: No? Damn, Plan B then. Lil credit, fuckwad?
Dane: He was kidding. Love you! xo Gidge
Sawyer: One more favor?
Dane: Anything
Sawyer: Will you go get the Red and maybe a bag? I’ll owe you.
Dane: Yes! We can give it to her Thurs. night!
Or not, crazy woman.
Sawyer: Easy Gidge...we’ll see.
Dane: Go talk to your own woman. I’m taking mine back.
Sawyer: Last thing…Dane?
Dane: It’s me
Sawyer: When did you first catch yourself missing Laney?
Dane: Remember the night we met her and B and they ran into the bathroom to strategize their exit?
I think back…was that before or after Laney threatened to take a bat to Whit? I shake my head and chuckle, knowing it doesn’t matter.
Sawyer: Yeah
Dane: Then
Yes! Mine was three days, his three minutes. So even if I’m a whipped pup, tail wagging, with his tongue hanging out, Dane’s worse!
“HEY,” I SAY as I sneak up behind her.
She jumps and spins around to face me. “You have got to quit that!”
“Sorry. Listen, I’ll drive you home tonight, okay?”
She tilts her head in the way I’ve seen her do before, trying to figure me out. “Why would you do that?”
“Cabs aren’t safe, especially at 2 am.”
“Oh, stop. I’m fine. But thank you for caring.”
“Why won’t you let me drive you home? What are you afraid of? And don’t even think about not answering, because you just thanked me.”
“And you said sorry.” One eyebrow goes up, challenging me.
“Driving ya’ home.”
She growls and grabs my hand, pulling me into the break room. Looking around and finding it empty, she starts in. “I need you to quit being so considerate and irresi
stible. This,” she flicks her finger between us, “can never happen. I’d love nothing more than to fall into you and get lost, but it can. Not. Happen. I need this job, so go find Mariah and quit making me feel special!”
“Whoa there, Shorty, simmer down.” I grab her shirt and tug her back when she attempts to get the last word and storm out. “Look at me.”
“No,” she answers softly, facing the wall. “Emmett, please turn around and look at me.”
“Sawyer, I’m not what you think I am. Let it go and be my friend. I could really use one.” She pulls away and I let her, watching as she walks out. Her shoulders are slumped, and there’s no pep in her step.
I can’t leave it like this, plus I owe her a fact.
“When I was eight, I wanted to be a cowboy!” I call out behind her, waiting.
She stops on a dime, remaining stone still and facing away from me. “When I was eight, I wanted to move to Green Gables.”
I’ll worry about figuring out where the fuck Green Gables is later; right now, I have a more pressing question. “I think you’re fascinating and beautiful and as unused to whatever this is as me. That’s what I think you are. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I wait as she remains standing in the same spot. There’s not the slightest movement for long seconds, before she finally walks away without answering.
Not what I think she is? Does she think I care that she is, or was, or what the fuck ever, a stripper?
We’ve got about thirty minutes before we open and I’d say some warm up music is exactly what we need. I walk out of the break room and over to the sound panel, turning up the volume before starting the song. I want to see her face with the first unmistakable riff.
“Shook Me All Night Long” comes through the speakers in every room, since I don’t know where she’s run and hidden. Angus is already singing about American thighs before she comes around the corner, eyes bugged out of her head.
When she finds me across the room, our eyes meet and I mouth to her “I don’t care” and crook my finger for her to come to me. She shakes her head violently and disappears again, full speed. Dammit! Not the reaction I was hoping for at all.
Out of nowhere, Kasey saunters over and turns down the music. “You know,” he slaps one hand on my shoulder, “you can chase and chase a butterfly and never catch them. But if you stand still, they may decide to land right on you.” He walks away whistling the AC/DC track, seemingly pleased with his own philosophical wisdom.
Butterfly? If he’s gotten close enough to see behind her ear, that’s too fucking close and I will lay him out like carpet. Her secret tattoo…that she didn’t mention when we’d discussed mine. I wonder if she’s hiding any more…and when I can find them.
I decide to leave her be for a bit, seriously contemplating Kasey’s advice. We open to a line and I’m busy, but not so much so that I’m not keenly aware of her non-appearance. She only comes out of hiding after the crowd really starts picking up, probably thinking all the bodies will shroud her. But she has to order from me at the bar, so soon we’re sharing awkward silences, far louder than the pulsing beat, as she waits for me to fill her tray each visit.
How long does it take a butterfly to land? She’s not even talking to me now and it’s driving me insane! Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I initiate plan You Better Talk to Me, Woman and wait for the effects of my brilliant masterminding to kick in.
She slides the glass my way a few minutes later. “This got sent back.”
Imagine that—I made the perfect you’re not in Alabama Slammer…with grapefruit juice. “Really? Huh. Okay. I’m sorry, I’ll fix it.” She looks down at her nails, far too sweet for the “hurry up, I’m put out” façade she’s attempting. “Emmett, did you hear me? I said I’m sorry, I’ll fix it.”
Ask for your fact, Angel, don’t leave me hanging.
“If you mess with my drinks, it’ll hurt my tips, Sawyer.”
“I. Said. I. Was. Sorry.”
“I. Heard. You.”
I slap both hands down on the bar and lean over, right into her face. “You agreed to the game. Play with me, Shorty, please.”
She sighs, defeated, and rolls her eyes. “Where’d you see me dance?”
There she is. Relieved, I lean closer, resting my forehead on hers, and she lets me. “At a buddy’s bachelor party. You were terrible at it.”
She laughs softly. “Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment. Not really my thing, obviously.”
“You’re welcome and it was a compliment. Do you do it anymore?”
She shakes her head back and forth, those bewitching green eyes staring at me. “I need my orders.”
“I’m driving you home.”
“I figured.”
I smile, happy we’re back to talking, even happier she’s going to let me give her a ride home and ecstatic that she and I have a cohesiveness all our own; it’s just a matter of finding the moment and a few words to put us back to good. I finish filling her tray, all made right this time, then pull out my phone. I shoot Dane a quick text that I really need the car tonight and slide it back in my pocket. I don’t have to wait for a reply; I know he’ll come through for me.
The rest of the shift goes more amicably than it started, Emmett gifting me with a few sentences or a smile every time she comes back up. By last call, she looks dead on her feet, but still breathtaking, and I can’t wait to be alone with her. We all pitch in to wipe tables and stack chairs, then I tell everyone they can head out, which will leave Emmett and I alone while I finish drawer counts.
She flops down on a bar stool in front of me and slides off her shoes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired in my life,” she groans, lifting one leg and starting to give herself a foot rub. “Totally worth it, though. I made over a hundred dollars tonight.”
“Emmett, you want to walk out with us?” Jessica stops and asks on her way out with Kasey and Darby.
“No, I’m okay, but thank you. I have to wait for Sawyer to finish counting so he can give me a ride home.”
Darby’s face wrinkles up. “Why would he do that? I’ll give you a ride home. Where do you live?”
Ahh, isn’t that nice? Fuck no! Darby’s do-gooder act isn’t fooling me. If she thinks cock blocking Emmett is gonna get me to fuck her again, she’s got another thing coming, or not coming, I suppose. I quit it almost before I even got done hitting it, a regret I live with every shift she works.
“Briarwood Apartments, right off Daline,” Emmett answers her.
Oh fucking hell, she lives in CJ’s complex? That place is…well, saying it’s sleazy would be like saying Miley Cyrus has kinda lost her damn mind. This keeps getting worse; she was going to take a cab at 2 am to Briarwood. My smokin’ lil’ butterfly has got herself one helluva life.
“That’s on my way.” Darby tips her head. “Come on.”
Emmett turns back to me and flashes a smile full of either sarcasm or defiance, which one, I’m not quite sure. “Looks like I’ve got a ride. Goodnight, Sawyer.”
“Night,” I grit out, giving Darby the stink eye.
Once they’re all filed out, I finish the count, my mood souring with every minute. Darby better not run her mouth about us, it was over a damn year ago…just get Emmett home safe, watch her walk to the door. What if she doesn’t? That neighborhood, the late hour…I’m up the stairs before I know it, grabbing the folder with her name. The beauty of management—access to the personnel files.
I program her phone number into mine, assigning it the perfect ringtone, then dial. “Hello?”
“Emmett? Hey, it’s Sawyer.”
“Hi?”
“Hey.” You already fucking said that, dumbass. Jesus, why not fly a banner over her house that says, “I never call girls”?
She fills the painfully awkward gap in exhilarating conversation with a giggle. “Sawyer, did you need something?”
“I, ah, wanted to make sure you got home all right. It’s late and all, so did yo
u make it okay? Inside?”
“I’m sliding my key in the lock as we speak. You’re too sweet, thank you.”
“Go ahead and get inside, turn on the light. Everything look in order? Nothing out of place, right?”
“No, looks the same as when I left it. I’m fine.”
I sigh, relief flooding me all at once. The thought of something happening to Emmett makes it hard to breathe, the protective instinct burning in my chest unlike anything I’ve felt before, certainly different that the protectiveness I feel for my female friends. I love Laney and the girls and I’d take a bullet for them, but with them it feels like instinct and with Emmett…it feels like will.
“Okay, wanted to make sure. I can let you go.”
And I just lied to her—I don’t think I could let her go if I tried.
“Goodnight, Sawyer,” she whispers.
“Sweet dreams, Shorty.”
DRIVING MISS EMMETT
NINETY-THREE! I roll my eyes at the thermostat on the wall and try to call my landlord for the tenth time; voicemail again.
Opening the windows might have actually made it worse as this is late summer in Georgia. I’m drained, dizzy, and nauseous from the stifling heat and lack of moving air in my box of an apartment. This can’t possibly be good for me, but I have no one to call, nowhere to go…not that I have the energy left to walk to the bus stop anyway.
The knock on the door sounds like angels singing— maybe it’s the landlord! I fling open the door, ready to tear into his ass or faint, whichever comes first. Faint, definitely faint, becomes the obvious choice as I take in the sight of one very large, very sexy Sawyer Beckett leaned up against the door frame.
“Morning, glory,” he says with a smirk, chipping away at my resolve with those teasing, deep blue eyes and perfect white teeth uncovered by a beaming smile.
“Um, morning?” I’m sure my face expresses my confusion at his presence.
“Can I come in?”
I do a mental check, cataloging in my head. Unless he sneaks away from me and goes digging through my closet, we’re good. “Be my guest.” I put out my arm and step aside. “Hope you like saunas.”
He steps in and immediately feels it, turning to me with an angry scowl. “It feels like hell in here, Emmett. Pretty sure my eyebrows are singed. What the fuck?”