Finding Jordie: Things aren't always what they seem. (The Love Lies Bleeding Series Book 1)

by Harley, HJ

Oh Lord, it has.

  I finished arguing with myself as the water began to turn frigid, and stepped out clean, refreshed, and feeling silly. I had a tendency to over think things. I grabbed a towel and examined myself once again in the full-length mirror, this time giving myself a full body scan. I wasn’t skinny by society’s standards. Nor would I have wanted to be. I was a perfect size ten with curves. Thank god I never lost ‘the girls’, I thought, giving my bust a little push up. I’d worked hard to stay where I was.

  Pleased with myself, I wrapped the towel around me and headed to my bedroom. It was two forty-five a.m. I turned the light off and climbed into my ever-so-welcoming bed.

  Somewhere, a phone was ringing.

  “Too early,” I mumbled as I was pulled out of my unconscious state. I dazedly looked at the clock. Nine forty-five a.m. Holy shit. I slept in. I closed my eyes again while my hand scrambled over the nightstand and tried to feel its way to the phone.

  I finally wrapped my hand around the handset and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?” I managed to croak out groggily.

  “Mommy?” It was my daughter Emma.

  “Hi, sweetie, how are you?” I forced my eyes open and struggled to sit up.

  “I’m good, Mom.”

  I made the mistake of smiling, forgetting about my busted lip. “Ow.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good. I cut my lip last night, and it hurts is all. What are you doing today? How are Aunt Kelly and the kids?” I rubbed my eyes, a bit more conscious now. My sister Kelly took care of Emma for me on the weekends, so I could work. Shit, if it were up to her she’d have Emma all the time. She loved Emma like one of her own. Kelly, her kids, and Mark, Kelly’s husband, were the only family we had left.

  “Everyone is fine, Mom. We’re going to the mall in a few.”

  “Oh, fun stuff.” I yawned.

  She sounded far older than her nine years of age, and I briefly wondered where the time had gone.

  “Okay, Mom, gotta go. Aunt Kelly got worried when you didn’t answer your cell or the house phone earlier, so I decided to call you again.”

  Shit, my cell phone. I remembered my belongings being scattered all over the sidewalk last night. Rachel had only given me back my keys and smokes. “I guess I was really tired.”

  “Yeah, I know you sleep like the dead, but you know her.”

  “Yes, yes, I do.” I shook my head with a smile.

  “Okay, Mom. See ya tomorrow.”

  “Hey, Em, I lost my cell last night, so if you guys need anything I’ll be at the bar. Call me there.”

  “Okay, I love you.”

  “Love you too, angel face.” I hung up and let myself fall back into bed, smiling at the picture of Emma on my nightstand. There was no doubt whose child she was. Emma looked exactly like me—long, almost black hair, green eyes, and a smile identical to mine.

  It was time to get this day moving. I dragged my ass to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, pulled my hair up in a half-assed bun, and headed downstairs. When I got to the kitchen the empty coffee container aggravated me more than it really should’ve.

  “Fuuuuucckkkk, what a wonderful start to this day.” I slammed the coffee container into the trashcan. “Bad shit happens in threes. What’s next?” I wondered out loud.

  I headed to the Starbucks a few blocks over to get my java fix and then walked back to the bar. It seemed like a shorter walk than usual. I guessed it was because that Nathan guy was totally consuming my thoughts again.

  I searched the open area out front by the entrance, the sidewalk, under the small table sets, and near the railing for my phone. Aside from an unwrapped condom—uh, gross—an empty can of Red Bull, and a Twinkie wrapper, I didn’t find a thing.

  “Well, at least someone had a good night.” I kicked the condom to the street with some unkind words about the asshole that hit me.

  Memories flittered through my head as I passed through the bar, the half-mirrored wall with shelves stocked with a variety of shapes and colors of liquor bottles. Once upon a time, I had been a woo-hoo girl. Rachel and I had taken on that title with authority. We didn’t go to clubs and bars as frequently as we went to VIP parties for record labels, recording artists and concerts, particularly the ones of the boy band genre. We had some fantastic times together, she and I. I’d been so out of touch with the world since then.

  I shook myself out of my train of thought, went back to my office, and tossed my keys on the large but cluttered wooden desk. The voicemail light on the phone was blinking, so I sat down in my office chair, fired up my relic of a PC, and hit speakerphone to retrieve the messages.

  I rolled my eyes and erased the first three messages, all telemarketers. “Why the hell did I enroll in this do not call list if they just keep on calling?” My mouth dropped open as the fourth message began to play.

  “Uh, yeah, this message is for Jordie, this is Nathan... the nut job.” He laughed nervously. “I wanted to let her know that I found her phone.” He paused. “At least I’m assuming it’s her phone although I have no way of knowing if it’s hers or not.” He paused again and let out a nervous chuckle. “I brought it back into the bar and left it with the bartender. I hope if it’s hers she gets it back. Okay, thanks. Bye.” He lingered on the line for a moment before he hung up.

  I giggled and hit three to save. Why did I do that? And did I just giggle? I lit up a cigarette and hurried on back out to the bar. I searched the first shelf underneath—nothing there—continuing to search until I reached the end of it. There I saw the silver glint of my flip phone sitting on top of a napkin with a note from Rachel:

  I went back to my office, plugged my cell into the charger, and butted out my smoke, annoyed. What the hell? It serves its purpose. It makes calls, sends and receives texts. Sorry, I don’t need to land a space shuttle with it. I sat back down in a huff, pulled out last night’s till, and reconciled it. Saturday nights were busy, so I needed to get Friday behind me.

  MIKE’S DEEP, CHEERFUL LAUGH broke into the silence in the bar. “Bullshit. She has legs that go straight to her ass.”

  “It’s impossible to have legs that go straight to your ass when your ass is already occupied with a stick.” Rachel definitely got an A in the “far too descriptive” department.

  I got up from my desk and walked quietly over to my office door. In the dim light, I could see Carlos leaning against the bar, laughing at the two of them.

  “What the fuck ever. You’re just jealous because you’re a midget.” Mike towered over Rachel, in spite of her high heels.

  I came out to the bar and stood next to Carlos.

  “We prefer little people.” Rachel gave Mike the finger and twisted her face up into a sarcastic pout.

  Rachel and I were the same height, but she loved spike heels, so she looked a couple inches taller. “Well, if she’s a midget what are you saying about me, Michael?” When they turned in my direction, I gave Mike the “what now, bitch?” look. “And quit your pouting, Rach.”

  “What? I’m not pouting. I wasn’t trying to pout. It’s just how my lips are. Are you saying I’m some big lipped midget, like some sort of carnie freak?” She twisted one of her long, brown curls around her finger, her hazel eyes all puppy-doggish and wounded.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.” I rolled my eyes and snorted.

  As I stepped behind the bar to begin the preparations for a busy Saturday night, I glanced at the clock. I couldn’t believe it was four forty-five already. Where the hell did the day go?

  “I see you got my note and the phone Jesus used to invite everyone to the Last Supper.” Rachel smirked at me.

  “Eff off, it serves its purpose.”

  “Really, Jordie, you need a new one. It’s time to get into this century.”

  I turned away from her.

  “For real, you need to start living again.” Rachel dropped a bucket of ice to the floor with a loud thud.

  “What the fuck am I doing? I’m living.” I flailed my
arms while my eyes searched for anywhere but her face.

  “No, you’re hiding.” She mocked my arm flailing.

  Bitch. I gave up and stalked back into my office. “Let me know what you guys want for dinner. I’ll order it now.” I slammed my office door.

  “Knock, knock.” A few minutes later Mike poked his head in my office waving a white napkin.

  “Ha ha, very funny, Mike.” I fixed my gaze on a killer game of Minesweeper. “What’s up?”

  “Chinese sound good?” He lowered his white flag.

  “Yup, fine. Who wants what?” I opened my desk drawer without looking up and pulled out a menu for the Tasty King.

  “I got it.” He walked in and took the menu out of my hand. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing.” I sat motionless with my hand lingering in the air as if I were still holding the menu.

  “Hey, don’t take this shit out on me.” He slapped me lightly on top of my head with the menu.

  “Ugh, Mike. Fine.” I groaned and gave him my best ‘I’m sorry’ smile. “Wonton soup and some crab Rangoon. Thank you. Just use the card in the register.”

  “Got it, boss. Don’t be pissed at her for too long. She loves you. We all love you.” He smiled back.

  “That was good. Thanks, Jordie.” Carlos rubbed his belly.

  The phone rang and Mike got up to answer it. “The Post.” He paused for a moment and grinned. “Sure thing, short-stuff. Hang on, I’ll get her for you.” He put the phone down on the bar and nodded at me. “It’s Emma.”

  I picked up. “Hey, baby, everything okay?”

  “Yes, Mom,” she exaggerated. “Aunt Kelly wants to talk to you. I just wanted to say hi and tell you that I got new boots today at the mall.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Emma, that money was for clothes.”

  “Don’t go Britney on me, Mom. I got clothes, too, and the boots were on sale.”

  I sighed. “Okay, I can’t argue with a sale.” I smiled, wary of my lip again.

  “Here’s Aunt Kell. I.L.Y.”

  There was some rustling and then my sister’s voice came through the line. “Hey.”

  “Hi, Kell. What’s up?”

  “I’ll have Emmy home around five tomorrow.” She insisted on calling Emma Emmy, and it drove me batshit crazy. “John has a game at one, pizza after it, and then I’ll head into the city.”

  I tapped my foot as I stared at the ceiling because I knew I wouldn’t win even if I argued with her. “That’s fine.” I conceded.

  “Love ya.” Her tone reeked of ‘Ha ha, I won again’.

  “Love ya more.”

  “Doubt it. Bye!” We both blurted it out at the same time and hung up.

  At eight thirty p.m. the bar was packed and alive. I stood on my tippy toes and stretched my neck to see over the crowd.

  “Why are you stalking the door?” Rachel popped off the top of a beer and placed it on the bar.

  “What? I’m not.” My answer flew out of my mouth too quickly. She’d know I was lying.

  “Okay. Whatever, Jordie.” She laughed, put money in the register, and handed the guy his change back.

  She had been right, though. I was stalking the door. I’d spent more time watching that door tonight than I had in the seven years I’d owned the joint.

  It was definitely a Saturday night. Rachel was bitching about her usual issues—that guy was an asshole and that chick was a raging bitch who wore too much makeup. My only salvation was the loud music that drowned her out. The DJ was a local radio personality who always got the crowd going. Rachel and I carried on the busy pace behind the bar, flashing our flirty smiles and even throwing in a giggle or two. We had to keep the customers mildly entertained while they waited their turn, some less patiently than others.

  “That’s it! I need to fucking pee!” Rachel stalked off to the restroom in a huff.

  I tended to the customers for a few minutes, then looked up to see Rachel stop to talk to the DJ on her way back from the bathroom. He nodded and laughed as they spoke, clinging to her every word. Tease. She must want something. She threw him a wink as she walked back to the bar.

  “You know, you shouldn’t be such a dick tease,” I shouted over the music.

  “Whaaaatttt? Bitch, please!” She waved her hand nonchalantly in the air.

  Around eleven forty-five the atmosphere shifted, and the bar went from crowded to insane. I took a step back to enjoy the show. So many happy people. They danced, they drank, they laughed. They’d remember this night. This was why I loved this place. It was an instant party.

  The music got quieter and the DJ shouted, “Who’s having a great time?” The crowd responded with a cheer. “This next song is a request going out to the fabulous bitch—her words not mine!” The DJ pointed at Rachel.

  “Traitor!” she called back to him with a smile.

  He moved his pointed finger to me. “The best biotch anyone could have!”

  Rachel busted out with laughter. She knew goddamned well I didn’t enjoy the spotlight. I shot her a ‘you are so fucking fired’ look, but as usual an unaffected Rachel just kept on laughing. Obviously, she doesn’t care about my feelings.

  “Wait for it!” She raised her pointer finger and curled it at Carlos, a signal for him to come over. “Man the bar.” She slapped him on the back as the familiar song began.

  “No fucking way.” I backed away from the bar slowly but then busted out in hysterics when *NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye” blared through the speakers. The crowd’s reaction was surprisingly enthusiastic. My side already hurt from laughing. I can’t believe this bitch is doing this!

  Rachel hopped up on the bar and stretched her hand out to me. “C’mon, Jordie, it’s been too long since you’ve had some fun. For me, please?”

  I rolled my eyes and groaned, but I hopped up to sit on the edge of the bar and let her pull me up to stand alongside her. We had been to enough *NSYNC concerts that we knew the choreography to this song like we knew how to breathe. All eyes were on us as we reenacted the infamous dance moves for the song, with our added touch of seductive hip gyrating, hair flipping, and ass shaking. The men in the crowd got a bit rowdy, while some ladies side-eyed us with disapproval. A few went so far as to give their men a smack for being so attentive to our little show. One guy shouted, “JT ain’t got shit on you two!” letting out a loud whistle over the crowd noise. Nothing could have wiped the smiles off of our faces at that moment.

  When we finished, the place erupted in cheers, shouting, and whistling, just a cluster fuck of an uproar. It was great. Wearing a smile that cracked the scab on my lip, I took an exaggerated bow. The music went back to the regularly scheduled program, and we were all but forgotten.

  “Fuck, that was fun.” I leaned my hands on my thighs. “Thanks.” I nudged Rachel’s arm.

  “I love when you smile, Jordie. I miss that.” She beamed back at me. I hadn’t seen that face in a long while.

  Me too, I sighed to myself.

  She hugged me and shoved Carlos out of the way teasingly. “Go protect someone. Thanks.” She was still smiling a bright smile.

  “I’m headed outside for a smoke. I can’t believe I still had that shit in me!”

  “Go, go.” She waved her hand, dismissing me.

  The air felt so damn good on my face while I walked to the sidewalk. People outside greeted me with cheers and fist bumps. Those I didn’t mind as much as the cat calls and the “you two sexy bitches can move” comment.

  “Fucking Rachel.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you, thank you.” I nodded, embarrassed, and continued out to the curb. I dusted off a spot and sat, my legs extended into the street. I lit up my smoke.

  “Did you just pull a Coyote Ugly *NSYNC style verbatim?” I heard a voice from behind me.

  I froze mid drag, not daring to look behind me. I recognized that voice now. I turned my head. My eyes met Nathan’s. I let out a nervous chuckle when he sat next to me. Jesus, he really is gorgeous. I fel
t that same little pull in my belly as he bumped me. There it is again. What is that? For fuck’s sake, Jordan, calm down. He’s at least eight or nine years younger than you. Besides, you don’t get feelings like this.

  “Ahhhhhh, you caught that, huh?” I shifted my eyes to the light post in an attempt to hide my nervousness.

  “I did.” He smiled his nut job smile and my belly began to flip flop.

  Seriously, what the hell?

  “How do you know it was verbatim? You had to be like ten when that song was out.” I grinned teasingly.

  “I was sixteen for your information, and I must have watched that video a million times.” He leaned into me and bumped my shoulder this time. I stiffened up immediately.

  Oh my god, do not touch me, I screamed inside my head. Not because it was unwelcome. But because it was just a bit too welcome.

  He leaned forward to look at me. “Jordie? You all right?”

  “Yeah, fine.” I managed a small smile.

  “Your lip looks better.” He reached his hand up like he was about to put his thumb on it.

  Immediately I tossed my cigarette in the road and hopped to my feet. He stayed seated on the curb for a minute, looking confused, and then he stood up as well.

  Jesus, he has to be what? Six-one? Six-two?

  He towered over me with those eyes, which sent tingles right through me. All of a sudden I felt like some crazy electro-magnet was compelling me to take in all I could of him. You couldn’t pry my eyes off of him with the jaws of life. I could hardly breathe.

  “So...” he said. His voice came out all quiet and rough. He cleared his throat. “Okay then, guess you need to get back to work. Don’t want you getting fired.” There was a hint of a smile at one corner of his mouth.

  “Yep, don’t want to get fired.” I took a step back. “You say you were sixteen when that song was released, making you how old?” The cougar inside waited to hear the damage. “I’m shit at math.” He probably thought I was trying to fuck him with my eyes. Quit staring.

  “I’m twenty-seven.” He did this thing with his eyebrows.

  So he was older than he looked. I felt a surge of relief pulse through me, and I immediately stifled it. This doesn’t make it okay.