Finding Focus

by Jiffy Kate

  Yeah. Good choice.

  We grab a cup of coffee from a café down the street and hail a cab instead of walking to my apartment. When we pull up in front of my building, I take a deep breath before stepping out on the curb.

  “You good?” Micah asks, placing his hand at the small of my back. The gesture makes my knees feel weak.

  “Yeah,” I say, my voice shaking a little, but it’s not due to nerves.

  There’s no one waiting on the elevator, so we hop in, and I press two.

  “Think he’s still here?” Micah asks.

  The elevator door opens and we step out.

  “He better not be, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Besides, he had a lot of shit to get out. And even though he’s walking, he’s not fast.”

  I pull out my key and unlock the door. The second the door is open, I smell coffee, which gives me my answer.

  That son of a bitch.

  “Graham?”

  “Dani?” he asks, his voice coming from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

  I walk in and he’s balancing on one leg, a set of crutches leaning up against the counter beside him. When he sees me, relief washes over him. He leans forward and holds his hand out, wanting me to take it. “Dani. I’m so sorry. I knew you’d come back.”

  “Of course I was coming back. This is my fucking apartment!” I try to hold back my anger, but I hate that he’s still playing house . . . in my house. “What part of ‘get the fuck out’ did you not understand?”

  “You were mad. I didn’t think you really meant it.” Picking up his crutches, he begins to hobble toward me, but stops as Micah steps around the corner and places his hand at the small of my back again.

  Graham’s eyes grow wide as recognition sets in. “What the hell is he doing here?” he growls.

  “None of your fucking business,” Micah replies coolly.

  “Dani, we need to talk,” Graham pleads.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I said everything I had to say two days ago.”

  “I need to talk!” Graham says, raising his voice and taking a couple steps closer.

  Micah places his body at an angle in front of me. “She said she’s finished talkin’.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Graham says, standing as tall as his injured leg will allow.

  “Well, you lost the privilege to call the shots around here when you fucked your therapist,” Micah retorts.

  “It’s not like that!” Graham says, leaning on one of his crutches and pulling at his longer-than-usual hair in frustration. “Which is why I need to talk to my girlfriend,” he says, reaching around to grab my arm.

  “Don’t touch me, Graham,” I say through gritted teeth. “I want you out. Like, yesterday. Who do I need to call to make that happen?” I reach in my bag for my phone and begin to scroll through it, looking for Mr. Harrison’s phone number when it rings. Piper’s name pops up on the screen, but I decline the call and look back up at Graham.

  “Who are you going to call?” he asks, his tone mocking.

  “Your father. The law. I don’t really fucking care if they’ll get you out of my apartment.”

  “You need to calm down,” he says, reaching a hand out to me. It makes me retreat back, and he sighs in frustration, leaning on the wall for support. “Please give me a chance to explain and tell you how fucking sorry I am.”

  “Go ahead,” I tell him, just wanting him to say what he need to say so I can leave. “What do you want to tell me?”

  “Not with him here,” he says, pointing to Micah, who is still standing next to me, seething. His jaw is clenched tight and his arms are crossed over his chest like he’s holding himself back.

  “Anything you have to say, you can say in front of him,” I tell him, locking eyes with him and holding his gaze, showing him I’m not backing down.

  His face contorts into a sneer. “Are you fucking him?” he asks incredulously. I watch as his shoulders go rigid and he tries to stand to his full height, his eyes shifting from me to Micah.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Micah says in an authoritative voice, taking a step forward and uncrossing his arms. “You need to back the fuck up and don’t talk to her like that.”

  Graham ignores Micah and looks around him at me. “Answer me, Dani,” he demands. His face twists with emotions and I know I don’t owe him anything, but I don’t want him to think that it’s like that between me and Micah. I don’t want him to think I’d stoop to his level.

  “No, Graham,” I say firmly. “We’re not fucking. Or anything else. We’re friends. That’s it.”

  Micah’s shoulders tense a little more. For a few awkward seconds, we’re all in a stare off, until I finally can’t stand it anymore. I just need out of this place and away from him.

  “So, back to you getting the hell out of my apartment,” I say, grabbing my bag and pulling it up on my shoulder. “Where do we stand on that?”

  Graham’s face falls and he lets out a deep breath, defeat hanging thick in the air. “Give me a couple hours,” he mumbles.

  “Good. Micah and I are going to lunch. I expect you to be gone when we get back.”

  I grab Micah’s hand, pulling him toward me and the door. He finally relaxes a little and walks with me, but keeps an eye on Graham. Before we make it out the door, I remember the credit card and driver’s license in my bag. Pulling it out, I turn around and slap it down on the table, looking up at Graham with a blank expression. “Thanks for the hotel room.”

  Once Micah and I are back out onto the sidewalk, he puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him, kissing the top of my head. “Are you okay?”

  I let out a deep sigh and melt into him. “I’ve been better, but I’m glad that’s over with.”

  “What do you want to do?” he asks.

  “I want some Mongolian beef.”

  He chuckles and places his lips to my head again. “Mongolian beef it is. Where can we go to get that?”

  I take us to my favorite Chinese restaurant and we walk up to the counter. Before I can open my mouth to order, Micah steps up and tells them we’ll have two Mongolian beefs. “Want anything else?” he asks, looking back over his shoulder.

  I shake my head and try to not think about how much I love that he just ordered for me. He’s here and he’s taking care of me. If I think about it too much, I’ll start crying and Lord knows I’ve shed enough tears over the past couple days to last me a lifetime.

  We find a table by the window and have a seat. I’m watching Micah while he watches people when my phone rings.

  Micah’s eyes snap to mine. “Sir Mix-a-Lot? Really?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow and smirking at me.

  I manage a laugh and roll my eyes. “Hello, Piper,” I say into the phone.

  “Sheridan Paige,” she says, first and middle naming me like she loves to do.

  “I know, I know. Please don’t lecture me,” I groan, rubbing my temples. “Micah told me you called. I’ve just been dealing with stuff . . .” I pause, looking out the window.

  She sighs sadly into the phone. “What’s going on with you, Dani?” Her voice is soft and low. I know she’s hurt because I haven’t called and confided in her. “And don’t tell me nothing.”

  “Promise you won’t say I told you so?” I ask, not wanting a lecture from her today. I’ve had enough fuckery for one day.

  “Promise,” she says.

  “Graham’s an asshole of epic proportions,” I start, stating the obvious.

  “I told you so.”

  “You’re such a bitch,” I tell her, but I can’t help the small smile forcing its way onto my lips.

  When her laugh flitters through the phone, it makes me laugh too, but then her voice turns solemn. “What am I going to kick his ass for?”

  “He cheated on me with the physical therapist.” I just spit it out. No sense mincing words.

  The line is quiet for a moment and I pull it back to make sure we’re still connected.

  “What?” she ye
lls, making me pull the phone back again, but this time, to save my hearing. “What the fuck, Dani? Where . . . how?” she asks, drawing out the last question.

  “Well, he was putting his d—”

  “Stop! Don’t make me use my brain bleach. I didn’t mean that. You know what I mean. He’s staying at your apartment. You’re with him every second of the day.”

  “Well,” I sigh, not wanting to rehash the whole sordid story, but I know I’ll have to do it sometime. I look across the table to Micah with an apologetic smile. His eyes are watching me intently and his jaw is tight, but he shakes his head and mouths, “It’s fine.” So, I continue and tell her everything.

  Once I’m finished with the recount, there’s a long pause on the phone and then a growl coming from Piper’s end. “That fucking bastard.”

  Micah clears his throat as the waitress sets our food down in front of us and I see his nostrils flare.

  “Fuck. Dani, I’m so sorry, honey,” she says softly. “Even I couldn’t have predicted that. I knew Graham was a douchenozzle, but I didn’t know he’d stoop that low. Do you know how long it’s been going on?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I just want him out . . . of my life, of my apartment . . .” I tell her, rubbing my temple with my free hand.

  “He’s still there?”

  “Well, I told him to leave and he said he would.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Eating lunch with Micah,” I tell her, looking up and making eye contact with him again.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “Call me later.”

  “I will.”

  “And if that motherfucker isn’t out of your apartment when you get back, tell Micah to break his other leg.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary.”

  “I’ve got another call coming in. I’ve gotta go,” she says as her office phone rings in the background.

  “Get back to work,” I tease.

  “Talk to you soon.”

  I end the call and put my phone in my pocket.

  “Piper?” Micah asks.

  “The one and only.”

  “Well, this looks delicious,” Micah says, looking down at his steaming bowl of food.

  “Seriously, the best Mongolian beef you’ll ever put in your mouth.”

  He quirks an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll have to take your word for it, because it’ll be the first Mongolian beef I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

  “No way!” I look at him like he’s crazy.

  “Exactly how many Chinese restaurants did you see in French Settlement while you were there?” he asks, leveling me with his gaze, his fork in the air.

  “Touché.”

  He laughs and digs in for his first bite. “There was this great Chinese place in Baton Rouge Deacon and I used to go to when we were in college, but I always ordered this house special they had. I don’t even know what the fuck was in it, but it was delicious.”

  I laugh and watch him as he experiences his first bite of the best Mongolian beef he’ll ever eat. And what a lovely sight it is. He chews for a second and then darts his tongue out to lick his lips. His eyes roll and he finally groans out his approval. “So fucking good.”

  I nod and clear my throat before taking a bite of my own. “I told you,” I say after I swallow, unable to take my eyes off his mouth.

  Music playing from my pocket causes Micah to smile around his fork and I’m actually appreciative of the distraction.

  “Hello,” I say a little too eagerly, especially since I just talked to Piper less than ten minutes ago.

  “Get your ass on a plane. ASAP,” she says in her bossy tone.

  “What?” I ask, dropping my fork to my plate.

  “I just got off the phone with my boss,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. It causes me to smile back. “He wants you to start on the article no later than next week.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I figured this news couldn’t have come at a better time.”

  “Oh my God, Piper. I could kiss you right now.” Those tears I talked about not crying today are trying to break through the dam, but I blink them back.

  “You’ll get to soon enough. I’m coming to see you when you get back down here. Once you’ve figured out your game plan, give me a call.”

  “So, next week?” I ask, my heart practically beating out of my chest at the thought of getting the hell out of this city.

  ”Yes, so pack your shit and get your ass back down here.”

  “Thank you,” I say, trying to keep it together.

  “Don’t thank me. It’s your awesome idea and amazing talent that sold them on it. You only have yourself to thank.”

  I end the call and drop the phone onto the table. Looking up at Micah, I meet his pale blue eyes and they look happy, mirroring my own emotions. When I’m mad, he’s mad. When I’m sad, he’s sad. Right now, I’m happy and he’s happy. The thought of being able to go back with him makes the last bit of tension and dread leave my body.

  “I got the job. I’m flying home with you.”

  Micah

  IF YOU WOULD’VE TOLD ME when I left Louisiana on Wednesday I’d be flying back home with Sheridan Reed two days later, I would’ve laughed in your face. But that’s exactly what’s happening.

  Once Graham was finally out of Dani’s apartment, she started packing while I searched for flights and gave my mama and Deacon a call, letting them know I’m coming home. I was able to change my New Orleans flight to the same one Dani booked to Baton Rouge, and now, here we sit, together, thanks to Mr. Wilson.

  Mr. Wilson was originally sitting next to Dani, but after some major groveling on my part and the promise of a couple of cocktails, he eventually switched seats with me, pissing and moaning under his breath the entire time he walked to the back of the plane. I don’t care, though. I’d be willing to put up with a lot more than that in order to be this close to Dani.

  Last night, she refused to sleep in her bed, but didn’t want to bother with another hotel room, so she slept on the couch while I slept in her recliner. It wasn’t the best night’s rest for either of us, but we’ve managed to stay somewhat coherent. Until now. Thirty minutes in the air, and she’s already sleeping with her head resting against my shoulder.

  My eyes start to droop as I look down at her beautiful face. She has no idea how fucking amazing she is. She’s the strongest, most talented woman I know, besides my mama, and I’m so proud of how she handled that dipshit Graham.

  Hours later, heading toward baggage claim, my hand automatically finds Dani’s lower back. I know she isn’t looking to start anything serious right now, but I can’t help wanting to stake a claim on her in some way. I’ve never wanted to do that with a woman, and I know I have no right to assume she’d even want to be with me, but I’ll be damned if I step aside and let some other asshole get to her.

  Just thinking about Dani with someone else makes my pulse race.

  “What’s wrong?” Dani asks, looking up at me. “You’re clenching your jaw pretty tight there. In deep thought or something?”

  I look down into her big green eyes and instantly relax. “Oh, um,” I stutter, trying to think of something to say, other than I really hate when other guys touch you. That sounds creepy. “I just remembered I left my truck at the airport in New Orleans. I guess Deacon’ll have to give me a ride over there later this week. And we’ll have to rent a car to get home.”

  “No big deal,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, looking so damn carefree. “I’m going to need a car for my road trip anyway, so I’ll rent it. I really should’ve thought about that sooner, but I feel like I’m in vacation mode.”

  “Ahh, that’s just bein’ in the south,” I tell her with a wink. “The slower pace and relaxin’ attitude settles into your bones, suckin’ you right in and makin’ sure you never want to leave,” I say, pulling
her to me for emphasis. She laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard all day. “The only acceptable reason to rush is when you’re goin’ to a party or somewhere to eat, but even then, it’s more of a quick stroll rather than a sprint.”

  Dani continues to laugh the more I carry on, and I’m addicted to the sound. “Well, whatever it is, it’s working its magic on me.”

  “Well, now, don’t get me started on the Voodoo around these parts,” I joke.

  Dani spots her luggage and I quickly grab it before she can. The sound of my brother’s voice booming through the building cuts her protest short.

  “Is that Sheridan Reed I see?” Deacon yells, causing everyone around us to stop and watch as he lengthens his stride to reach us. He wraps Dani in his arms and twirls her around in greeting. “Bro, you didn’t tell me you were bringin’ Dani home. I would’ve brought the whole family with me!”

  “We’re goin’ straight home so we’ll surprise them when we get there. We were just gettin’ ready to go over and see about renting a car. I didn’t know you were comin’.”

  “No worries. I’ll just follow you home. I spent the night at the apartment last night after a late shift at Grinders, so I thought I’d stop by to see if you needed a lift. But first, let’s get down to business. Where’s my surprise?”

  “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” I ask, knowing exactly where this is going.

  “My surprise . . . souvenir . . . present . . . whatever you want to call it, I want it. Hand it over.” Deacon’s face is a wall of stone and he quirks an eyebrow at me. Dani shifts nervously beside me and the look of panic on her face makes me want to laugh, but I don’t.

  I play dumb for as long as I can before putting Deacon out of his misery and handing him the cheesy, but traditional, “I heart NY” shirt I bought him at the airport. He loves it, of course, and is too busy gushing over it to see me mouth the words “pay up” to Dani.

  She rolls her eyes and mumbles, “Fuck,” as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a ten-dollar bill.

  I’m happily stuffing the money into my own pocket when Deacon notices and starts wagging his meaty finger at us. “What’s this? What’s goin’ on here?”