Reckless Heat

by M. S. Parker

  Before I could flounder for another topic of discussion, Dallas popped up beside the table.

  Jinx beamed at him. “Finished already?”

  He rolled his shoulders and smiled. “Only needed a little something to give me a kick in the pants before I head home,” he told her. “Nothing’ll do that better than a good dram of whiskey.”

  “Do you often stop by after work?”

  Dallas nodded. “Lots of times. I don’t like drinking alone, but I do love having an after-work drink or two sometimes.”

  Jinx sighed. “I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who relaxes with a glass or two of wine at night, but I’m too worried about getting fat.”

  Dallas laughed easily, like this was a conversation he was having with a woman he wanted to get into bed. He took the opportunity to look her up and down, which to me looked like he was positively raking his eyes over her every curve. My hands clenched into fists at my sides while I glared daggers at him. This was the sort of shit Derek usually pulled, not Dallas. He was the serious, responsible one.

  “You’d be beautiful at any size,” Dallas said. “And if you’re worried about Drew not thinking so, fuck him. Lots of other fish in the sea.”

  Jinx took it as a joke and a compliment, but the gleam in Dallas’s eyes told me it was something more. That he was trying to get a rise out of me on purpose. Something inside of me snapped. I rose from my seat, and before Dallas could react, I decked him right in the side of the face.

  Dallas went down, knocking over a nearby chair. The scraping got Grant’s attention.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “Outta here with that. You know better.”

  I didn’t even acknowledge him because I was already getting out of there in general. I ground my teeth together and stormed from the bar, knocking aside anybody who was stupid enough not to get out of my way.

  Only when I was outside did I notice that Jinx hadn’t followed me.

  26

  Jinx

  My hand flew to my open mouth. I felt like I was watching the scene in slow motion.

  Drew punched Dallas. His brother. Drew had punched his brother.

  Dallas went down, and then Drew stomped out of the bar like he thought he was the toughest guy on the planet, not even bothering to see where I was.

  I dropped down to Dallas’ side and helped him sit up. Blood oozed from his nose, but it didn’t look broken. He looked more annoyed than hurt.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  Dallas wiped the blood onto the back of his hand and then looked at it like he hadn’t realized he was bleeding. He cursed under his breath. “I’m fine. Better than my brother’s gonna be when I get my hands on him.”

  “He’s just stressed out right now. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

  I didn’t know why I was so quick to make excuses for Drew, especially since I was furious about what he’d done. And the excuse was a dumb one. Dallas gave me a flat look that assured me Drew had meant it without a doubt.

  “It’s partially my fault,” Dallas said, groaning as he rose to his feet. He wiped the dust from his clothes, then grabbed a napkin and stuck it up to his nose. “I know how to push his buttons exactly right to get him to lose his temper.” He gave me a concerned look. “He won’t hurt you, though, you know that, right?”

  It seemed like we were both on the defensive for Drew tonight.

  “I know.” I forced a smile. “I’m not scared of him. More confused than anything else.”

  Dallas glanced at the door. “You gonna go after him?”

  I couldn’t answer his question. Was I going to go after Drew? Was he even still around to go after? Surely after what he’d done, he deserved nothing more than the silent treatment. After all, he’d not only punched his brother, he’d left without even a look back at me.

  “What do you think I should do?” I asked.

  Dallas shrugged and reached down to Drew’s abandoned beer, chugging it back. “I don’t know. Usually, he and I read each other pretty well, but the last couple months have proven that we don’t always. Definitely not when he’s like this.”

  “Like this?”

  Dallas smiled down at me, and it was a little condescending. “Jealous, sweetheart. Jealous and possessive. Two things he’s never been before you, so I have no fucking clue what you should do next.”

  It had been abundantly clear to me that Drew had punched his brother because of the flirty way Dallas was talking to me. What I hadn’t realized was that even Dallas wouldn’t know how to approach Drew about it.

  “I’m going to look outside and see if he’s around,” I said with a sigh. “You good?”

  “Peachy.”

  I put some cash down on the table and waved goodbye to Grant as I left. He waved and smiled like he hadn’t just seen my boyfriend try to knock out one of his customers.

  Drew was outside, leaning against the brick wall with folded arms and a sour expression. “Took you long enough,” he muttered.

  I bristled, feeling his anger and petulance down to my toes. “Excuse me?”

  I’d intended to try to speak gently with him, thinking he’d probably be feeling guilty and sorry for what he’d done. All that flew out the window as I witnessed the mulish expression on his face.

  “I said it took you long enough,” Drew repeated, pushing off from the wall. “Did you stay behind to kiss it better?”

  What the hell?

  “I didn’t stay to kiss it better,” I said just as snidely. “I stayed to make apologies on your behalf because you acted like a complete asshole.”

  “Right.” He grinned, but the look was completely devoid of warmth, cold enough to make me shiver. “So you’ve never thought about fucking Dallas? I mean, he looks enough like me that you must be attracted to him. Is that why he was flirting with you? Because you gave him goo-goo eyes at the dinner table?”

  Something in me burst. Drew could be as miserable and downright unlikable as he wanted, and I could admit my own part in the tension between us about work, but like hell he was going to blame me for him punching his brother.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I was yelling but didn’t care. “Dallas is nice to me because I’m your girlfriend, you ass! I don’t see you decking Delaney for joking around with me.”

  I stepped forward, sticking my chin out and making my gaze as cutting as possible. Drew didn’t so much as flinch.

  “And for the record, I haven’t had eyes for anyone but you since the moment I first saw you,” I spat. “If I’d have known you were going to be such an asshole, maybe I would have gone for the nicer brother instead.”

  “Oh, the nicer brother?” he growled, eyes flashing. “Because I haven’t been fucking nice enough to you? Is that what this is about? You need me to be nicer?”

  “The fact that you have to ask that...” I shook my head, my eyes burning. “You know that’s not the fucking problem, but you don’t want to...I can’t...”

  My throat nearly seized up before I could say the next words. I didn’t want to say them. I wanted to pretend like this was just a minor bump in the road, like we’d wake up in the morning and things would be different. Back to normal.

  But I knew now, we’d just been pretending. Whether for a few weeks or the whole time, I didn’t know, but I couldn’t do it anymore.

  “We’re done, Drew.”

  “What?”

  His voice was low, somewhere between a growl and a hoarse cry. I couldn’t tell which, but my anger decided to interpret it as aggressively as possible. Anger was better than the pain I knew was coming.

  “You heard me,” I said. “I’m finished pretending like this is going to work when you’re clearly not willing to try. I’ll come get my stuff tomorrow.”

  Before he could say anything else, I started walking, no particular destination in mind. My fingers scrambled in my purse, pulling out my phone, and I called Rhett. He’d come get me.

  I managed not to cry until I’d left Drew far behind me.
But once I started, it felt like I would never stop.

  27

  Drew

  It was one of the hottest Augusts on record. Wavy lines of heat rose from everything, and you couldn’t leave anything you didn’t want baking outside for too long. I spent most of my days on the track, not caring that I came home each day drenched in sweat.

  What did it matter if I came home smelling like a men’s locker room? She wasn’t there. Nobody was. She’d cleaned out all her things with such thoroughness that it was almost like she’d never been there in the first place. The only reminders were when I’d open the fridge and see the stupid sparkling water she insisted on buying, or when I rolled over in bed and smelled her shampoo on the pillow.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on it, so I didn’t. Or rather, I tried not to.

  Now I had other things to be thinking about. It was Friday afternoon, and I was on my way to the airport. My truck’s air conditioning had never been top notch, so I drove with the windows down as a sheen of sweat covered me. What a great impression I was going to make in LA. Herman would think I was just some sweaty southern boy if I wasn’t careful.

  I’d had to drive over to Wilmington’s airport, which was a long time alone with my thoughts. When I was riding, at least I was completely occupied. My mind and my body had to be one in those moments, which made things blissfully quiet. But driving my truck was almost as easy as breathing.

  Dallas called again just as I pulled into the long-stay parking at the airport. I ignored it, just like I had all his prior texts and phone calls. He wanted to apologize for his side of what happened, but it was too late for that now. Jinx was gone, and it was all his fault. He’d known how much I cared about her, and he knew what my temper was like. If he hadn’t said that about her leaving me for him, I never would have hit him, and everything would’ve been okay.

  The more I pinned it on him, the less blame I could assign to myself.

  The air conditioning was blasting inside the terminal, and I was almost cold from the drastic change of temperature. I checked in and took my seat at the gate, waiting for my flight to be called.

  It was going to be a very long day. With way too much time to think.

  LAX wasn’t close to what I’d imagined it would be. The airport seemed old and a bit grimy, far from the glamor I’d always associated with Los Angeles. Then again, not everything in LA was Hollywood lights and beautiful movie stars. I didn’t mind a bit of dirt, anyway. Made me feel a bit more at home.

  I had a harder time navigating through the sheer number of people. I’d never been in an airport so large, and it took me forever to get out into the arrivals hall. Herman Kendell was waiting there for me, wearing a pair of expensive sunglasses even though we were inside.

  “Glad you could make it,” he said. “There’s a lot of people excited to meet you.”

  “Really?” A small smile flitted across my lips. It was the best news I’d heard in over a week.

  “Oh yeah.” He smacked me on the back and led me outside. It was hot, and the little road for pickups and drop-offs that ran alongside the terminal was busier than any road back in Grantsboro. I had to consciously relax my jaw.

  “There’s always demand for good stunt workers,” Herman explained. “Not a lot of people willing to put their necks out these days. Not like it used to be. You ever watch any of Buster Keaton’s stuff?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t say I have.”

  It wasn’t really my thing, but I made a mental note to check it out. If knowledge of Buster Keaton would help get me the job, then I would become a goddamn expert.

  “Stunts seem to be moving more toward CGI these days, but audiences have started to notice how inauthentic it all is. What Osric’s really looking for is somebody who isn’t afraid to get out there and make magic.”

  I hated how Herman talked. He was exactly what I’d always imagined a Hollywood big-wig to be – greased back hair, tanned skin, and a big, white smile that made me a little uneasy.

  Still, I knew he was a decent guy. He’d seemed very genuine when I’d spoken to him in Florida. Maybe it was seeing him in Los Angeles that made him seem a little sleazier.

  We drove through downtown LA in a huge black SUV that matched all the other huge black SUVs. I tried not to look like too much of a country boy, but I couldn’t help craning my neck to check out the buildings and people we passed by.

  “Ever been to LA before?” Herman asked.

  We were stuck in an impossibly long line of traffic that stretched as far as I could see.

  “No. Not much of a traveler.”

  “You’ll love it,” he said. “It’s a bit much to take in at first, but there’s something for everybody out here.”

  I nodded. The fact that Herman was trying to sell LA to me seemed like a good thing.

  In the silence that followed, my thoughts turned back to Jinx. I wondered what she was doing, and if she remembered that I was in LA. I wondered if she’d been sleeping okay even though she’d claimed to never sleep as well as she did when she was next to me.

  I just wanted to meet this Osric guy and get my new career started. If I surrounded myself with it, completely smothered myself until I couldn’t breathe, then I wouldn’t think about Jinx anymore. And I badly wanted to not think about her anymore. Each time I did, it was like someone shoved a jagged piece of glass right into my gut. I remembered each feature of her face in startling detail. The perfect cupid’s bow of her lips, or the glinting sapphire of her eyes, would come out of nowhere sometimes. I couldn’t live like this.

  She dumped me. I needed to move on.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it.

  “You can get it,” Herman said, smiling. “We’re all attached to our phones here. You’ll seem weirder if you’re not constantly on it.”

  I chuckled, but the sound was without humor as I ignored the call. “It’s just my brother.”

  “You guys close?”

  I shrugged and looked at the window. “I don’t know anymore.”

  28

  Jinx

  “I swear to god, Jinx, if you burn those cookies I’ll cut your hair while you sleep.”

  I glanced anxiously down at the cookie sheet I’d just pulled out of the oven. A couple were a little darker than the others. Did that count as burned? With how stressed out Rhett was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to take the chance. I wondered whether he would notice if I tossed out the cookies and quickly ran to the store to buy some.

  A second later, Rhett stormed into the kitchen, arms laden with liquor store bags. I stood in front of the cookies while he unpacked and tried to surreptitiously move the more burned ones off the sheet and onto the counter, where I could then dispose of them.

  “They’re not all going to fit,” Rhett muttered to himself. “The house is too small. People will be left without seats, and they’ll all hate me forever.”

  I stepped away from the cookie sheet. Rhett was in his own world now. I’d be surprised if he noticed anything outside of his own pit of despair and panic.

  “Rhett.” I grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face me. His chin, so masculine and well-shaped, was tight with worry. “Everything is going to be okay. People are here to see you and will be happy just that you invited them.”

  “They’re here to see the house too,” he pointed out. “Hence calling it a house-warming party.”

  Therein laid the problem. It wasn’t just a house warming party, although that’s what the invitation said. Rhett saw it more like a coming-out party. Though he wouldn’t be entering the room on a dais carried by four muscled and oiled up guidos – as I’d suggested one drunken evening – he wouldn’t be hiding who he was either. And it was the first time he would ever be out and in the open around anyone other than me and his family.

  In short, he was terrified.

  “Maybe we should just cancel it,” Rhett said.

  “No!” I poked a finger into his muscled chest, hoping the pain would snap
him out of whatever spiral he was heading down. “We cannot and will not cancel. This party is important.”

  For both of us, I wanted to say.

  Since breaking up with Drew, I’d tried to keep myself busy. I hung out with people from work sometimes, and almost constantly saw Rhett now that we lived together, but I had little else to occupy myself with. I wanted to do something fun. Something a little crazy even.

  Rhett’s gaze slid from me to the cookie sheet on top of the oven. There were two burned cookies set off to the side on the counter. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything.

  “Fine. We’re not canceling.” His easy grin returned, and he unpacked the rest of the booze looking more at ease.

  “I got you a housewarming present,” I said, returning to the task of putting the cookies on a tray to cool.

  He grinned. “Where is it?”

  The gift was merely a photo collage of us, but I wanted to wait until after the party to give it to him. “You have to wait.”

  He stuck out his bottom lip. “I don’t want to wait.”

  “Too bad.”

  “I hope it’s not a selection of homemade baked goods,” Rhett muttered.

  One of the singed cookies hit his shirt with a brittle smack and then dropped to the tile. Rhett looked up at me, smiling dangerously.

  “Do that again. I dare you.”

  I drew my lips up in a wide smile. “If you kill me, you won’t get your present.”

  Before Rhett could act, the doorbell rang. His eyes grew as wide as dinner plates.

  “Somebody’s here already?” He hurriedly brushed the crumbs from his shirt and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. “How do I look? Oh! We’re not ready. Should I just tell them to leave and come back?”

  I chuckled. “Do you want me to get it?”

  “No, no. If anybody but the host answers the door, it looks tacky.” He set off toward the door, and I frowned at his back. I wanted to remind him that I lived here too, but we both knew I didn’t want it to be permanent.