Finding Redemption

by Emilia Finn

  “Can y’all stop?”

  Aiden looks down at Tina with a smug smile. “Peaches, don’t be so cranky. It’s our wedding day.”

  Tina elbows Aiden with a laugh even as he holds her in his arms. “Well excuse me for not wanting to hear about crotchety old bitches and my new brothers’ boners on my wedding day.”

  “Don’t fret, Tina.” Jimmy winks at her. “I’ll send you pics.”

  “Fuck you will.” Aiden steps forward and kicks Jim in the thigh, then he turns on his heel and takes his wife away.

  “Alright. They’re out.” I turn to Kit and Iz. “You guys going to make twins or you going to party?” I roll my eyes internally when I remember they’re both pregnant, so their version of partying might be wildly different to mine. Mostly it’ll just be me drinking and them dragging me back to my room.

  “I already have something planned.” Bobby kisses Kit’s brow. “Sorry Tink.”

  “And I got a lovely delivery of photos this morning, which, by the way, I need to kiss my brand new sister for that. She does amazing work.”

  Bobby’s eyes snap to Jim’s. “You got pics too?”

  “Yeah I did,” Jimmy drawls in his most disgusting cheap porn star voice. “I got pics too. Now we gotta go recreate some of the poses.”

  “Dude!” Jon shoves Jimmy. “That’s my baby sister.”

  “Lucky for me,” Jim kisses Iz again then squeezes her ass as she giggles, “she ain’t my baby sister.”

  “You’re a fucking pig. Don’t touch my sister, she’s an angel.” Jon punches Jim’s shoulder, but the smile stays firmly intact as he walks behind Kit and Bobby.

  My heart thunders in my chest as Korean Elvis leaves out a side door then I realize Jon and I are alone.

  Shit! “Alright. Well…” I’m out of here.

  Jon grabs my hand and stops me. “I’ll party with you.”

  “No. It’s probably best if we don’t.” No shit it’s best. I’m bound to end up back in his bed then I’ll be back at square one. I don’t have much blood left to give. “I’m going to go to bed.”

  Jon’s brows pull tight as his hand releases mine. “But it’s only eight. You haven’t been asleep by eight since you were three.”

  I haven’t been asleep before midnight in about that much time. Perks of working in a club, my inner clock is a little skewed. It’s practically still midday for me. “That’s alright. I’m fairly tired.” I’m not. I’ll probably just jump casinos and get drunk elsewhere.

  Jon’s lip twitches, but not in an amused way. Mostly he looks fucking pissed. “So that’s it then. Not even friends? Not even socially pleasant to each other?”

  “I am being pleasant. I haven’t even asked about Sonia yet today.”

  Dammit.

  I made a list of shit I wouldn’t say to him; bitter horrible things that I wanted to be a grown up about and not show how much of a bitch I truly am. Sonia was the very first thing on that list.

  I don’t know who the bitch is, but she’s probably younger than me and probably taller too. She probably has beautiful long hair like Kit, Iz and Tina. I can see how filling out the group with another like her would be aesthetically pleasing in holiday photos.

  Most photos till now consists of all the tall girls standing with their tall boys then little ol’ me, usually sitting in Jon’s lap to gain an extra couple inches of height.

  Jon’s hands come up to scratch at his face, a habit I’ve noticed in most of the guys. I wonder if Mr. Kincaid used to do that? “Listen Sunshine. This is why we need to ta--”

  “Casey.”

  Jon’s eyes peek out past his hands, then he drops his arms down by his side. “What?”

  “My name is Casey. Or Tink. You can call me Tink like everyone else, if you want.”

  Jon’s lip turns up in a sneer as his chest puffs up the way he does. His words come out like he tastes something particularly vile. “I’m not gonna call you Tink.”

  I hate that I have to stare so high up to meet his eyes. He stands close on purpose, like he needs to prove how big and strong he is. “Why not? It’s my nickname. I think it’s stuck.”

  He points toward the door everyone just left through. “I’m not them, okay? I’m not them. You and me… we have more. You’re not Tink to me!”

  “I’m not anything to you, Jon. Now we’re just Kit’s best friend and Bobby’s best friend. The way it was always supposed to be. I gotta go, okay?” I turn on my heel and leave my beautiful broken former best friend behind and I head through the chapel reception area and past the bigger lady as she sits and files her nails.

  I walk as fast as I can without attracting attention to myself. I’d hate for security to think I’m stealing their chips or something, then I walk straight through the lobby and swing into one of the many bars. This place is so big with so many, it’s unlikely I’ll be found anyway.

  I slip onto a stool then I flag down the sexy guy with the lip and nose rings. He kind of reminds me of Scotch.

  I feel my stomach flip again at the memory of Jon throwing Scotch, then of him knocking him out cold. I felt so awful for him, I went and found him at his place the next day.

  It turns out Scotch lives in an upstairs apartment above a garage, and when I arrived, not only was he there with his giant split lip and his cuts and bruises and tender body, but the rest of his band was there, as well as his brother.

  Angelo, Luca, and Marcus were fuming at what happened, and though they know I didn’t do it personally, they still turned their icy glares on me as I walked into the large living room.

  Scotch had to talk them down as apparently they were ready for some vigilante justice. I know they aren’t fighters, not like Jon and the other guys, but there was still three supremely pissed off guys. They’re smaller than Jon and the Kincaid’s, but not by much. They all still stand over six feet high. Three guys against Jon; well no, I still don’t think they’d win, but damn, it would have gotten messy.

  Then there was Scotch’s brother standing to the side like a big manly sentry. I didn’t even know Scotch had a brother, but it turns out, not only is Alex Turner his brother, he’s also the deputy in our town.

  Surprisingly, it was Scotch talking through his painful split lip as he saw the horror in my eyes and he convinced his brother not to arrest Jon.

  I should have let him. Jon deserves it.

  Then I could have bailed his dumbass out, but stood on the outside of the bars and taunted him about how good boys don’t make dumb mistakes and that maybe I’ll leave him in there.

  Any other time, any other part of our relationship, I would have done exactly that, but we weren’t at a place for that anymore.

  I’d told him the night before that I’d lost his baby, and he’d told me of his horrific childhood.

  I don’t see how we’ll ever find us again. I don’t think I want to.

  “What can I getcha, cutie?”

  I groan internally but I look up and smile at the sexy bartender. Why can’t a guy call me sexy or even slutty? Nope. Cutie.

  “Magharita please. Keep em’ coming.”

  “See your ID?”

  Fuck. Off.

  I fish through my purse then I toss my driver’s license onto the bar. He picks it up and studies the details. “You’re twenty-seven.”

  “Mmmhmm.” No, I’m not twelve.

  “You and me, we’re the same age.” He passes my license back to me. “Like, exactly the same. If our mamas were in the same hospital they would have high-fived in the hallway.”

  “Well that’s a fun visual. Can I get that drink?”

  He flashes a pretty smile then he turns away and starts mixing as I watch his ass bop to the loud music around us.

  Two hours later I’m snorting as Edgar - that’s legitimately his name, or at least he swears it is - mixes my next drink but does some sweet bottle flipping and almost drops the tequila bottle.

  “I swear Ed, you’re funnier than I gave you credit for.”

 
; “That’s okay, Tink,” – I told him my Tinkerbelle name somewhere around my fourth drink – “you’re hotter than I thought. I thought you were some prissy chick, or worse yet, some eighth grader who snuck outta her parents’ suite.”

  I slam my empty glass down on the bar then I snort at the loud booming noise. “Not me. I graduated eighth grade, like…” I try to count on my fingers, but I’m drunk and have no fucking idea.

  “That’s okay, girl, I gotcha. I woulda graduated eighth grade the same year. We’re cool.”

  “You know what we should do?” My eyes flare wide as I think up the best idea I’ve ever had. Ed’s lip twitches in a cute ‘I’m a hipster with lots of facial jewelry kind of way,’ then he places the bottle of tequila on the bar next to the shaker and rests on his forearms so his face comes close to mine.

  “No. What should we do?”

  “We should have a joint birthday party!”

  He’s amused by me. “Where do you live, Tink?”

  “Not here!”

  Edgar laughs as he lifts his body again and waves at a customer to acknowledge them. “That’s what I thought. So will we party here or at yours?”

  “You should come to my town. I have a whole gym full of people that’ll get mad if I don’t include them…” Another thought crosses my mind. “Hey Ed?”

  His lips twitch with amusement. “Yes, Darlin’?”

  “Are you paid to flirt with the customers?”

  He flashes a dirty grin as his eyes dance. “Are you?” He knows my job. I told him that somewhere between the fourth and fifth drink too.

  “Well, it’s not in the contract or anything, but the tips are usually better if I do.”

  He taps his fist on the bar in front of me. “Exactly.”

  I pout. “Am I a pity flirt though? Do you flirt with the crotchety old Mrs. Burns, too, or do you think I’m a teensy bit hot?” I hold my fingers up between us, measuring out a ‘teensy’ amount.

  “You’re definitely hot, Tink. I’d do you in a heartbeat.”

  I preen under his praise. “You would?”

  “Definitely.” Ed flicks his lip ring in a sexy flirty way. “But not right now, sorry. I gotta go serve Mrs. Burns.” He nods toward an old lady with too much lipstick and I laugh so hard I almost cry.

  “Alright, Edgar. Go serve her, but come home to me, baby.”

  Ed laughs then he walks away from me, deserving to lose his job as he leaves the bottle of tequila in front of me and I pour another drink.

  Who needs service? I can do this shit myself.

  I smell him before I see him, but I feel the smile spread across my face as a big sexy man sits in the stool beside mine. I ain’t mad. I love him.

  “Want a drinking buddy?”

  I smile as I turn in my seat and my eyes latch onto his pretty browns. “Hey Leo. Missed you.”

  His smile is soft and his eyes scream a billion words that I’m too drunk to understand. “I missed you too, Sunshine. Wanna get drunk?”

  “I’m so drunk already, but if you wanna catch up, you can.”

  Twenty Four

  Jon

  Oops

  She’s hammered.

  Not quite sleeping on the floor curled up beneath a stool hammered, but hammered enough she’d sleep with me on the floor right now if I asked.

  Fuck, I’m tempted to ask. I’m tempted to get down on the floor myself and beg her. Anything. I’ll give her anything she wants if she’d always look me in the eyes the way she is right now.

  She hasn’t looked at me in weeks, but right now she stares into mine like she truly does miss me and wants nothing more than to get lost inside me.

  I wish.

  I’ve missed her so fucking much.

  “Want a drinking buddy?”

  She smiles her pretty smile and my heart jumps in my chest. “Hey Leo. Missed you.”

  I love you, Casey. I love you with everything inside me, so much that it hurts to breathe without you.

  I’ll do anything, literally anything to get her back. There are no lines I wouldn’t cross now. No moral code. No history. Nothing. “I missed you too Sunshine.” I want you back. “Wanna get drunk?”

  She laughs as she sways in her seat. I have a feeling I’ll be carrying her to bed tonight. My pleasure. “I’m so drunk already, but if you wanna catch up, you can.”

  I nod and reach across her, taking in a deep lung full of the cinnamon fragrance I’ve missed so much, then I grab the tequila bottle and bring it to my lips. I’ll skip the first few glasses and catch up to my girl. Tequila seems to have healed her heart for tonight. Maybe it’ll be just as kind to mine.

  “Oooh,” she taunts with a giant smile as I guzzle the burning liquid. “You’re gonna be sick tomorrow, Jon Hart.”

  I smile bitterly as the liquid rolls down my throat. I’d rather a beer but I’ll ride this wave. “Not as sick as you, Sunshine.”

  “Bet I could drink more than you and not get sick.”

  She’s about a hundred and ten pounds when soaking wet and I’m more than twice that. “I’ll take your bet.”

  “Hey, Eddddgarrrrr.” Her voice comes out in a sing song tinkle and the guy down the other end of the bar looks up with a gleam in his eyes. He looks my girl up and down and laughs under his breath, then his eyes lock on mine and his turn to suspicion.

  He wanders cockily toward us as he wipes his hands on a dishrag, then he stops in front of her and leans on his arms. His face is far too close to hers and I feel my nostrils flare.

  The fuck is this guy?

  “Yes, darlin’?”

  “Darlin’?” I stand from the stool, enjoying the way his eyes track my movement and his neck bends backwards. I wouldn’t mind grabbing his face and ripping the metal bars out. “You two know each other?”

  He stands tall too, reminding me of the way Bobby’s peacock feathers fan when he doesn’t like someone. “Yeah. We know each other, Tink and I go way back.”

  I feel the smugness cleanse my body from deep within. “You call her Tink?” Means he doesn’t call her Casey. She didn’t let him in.

  “Yeah. She and I are old pals. We’re planning a joint birthday party for next year and everything.”

  Casey snorts as she sways dangerously to the side in her seat and I coolly grab her arm to stop her from face planting. “Yeah, way back to two hours ago and a d-and-m.”

  Dude behind the bar and I wear identical confused expressions as we watch her. “What’s d-and-m mean, darlin’?”

  “Deep and meaningful…” She rolls her eyes. “Duh!”

  The other guy leans back on his forearms and dismisses me as he gets close, and I feel my teeth peel back over my lips again. This is like last time in 188, except this time I’m in a different state and I guarantee there are a bunch more cops around.

  I’m not getting arrested today. I’m not leaving her side.

  “Casey, darlin’?”

  Casey flicks her lashes at him and I fight the urge to plant his ugly face into the bar top. It would be so easy, just a simple tap to the back of his asshole head and a quick slam would result in a shattered nose and satisfaction… for me.

  “Yes, Edgar?”

  Edgar - I mean seriously, who the fuck names their kid Edgar? Did his parents hate him from the day he was born? - Edgar flicks his eyes my way then back to hers. “Is he a rando, or do you know him? Do we need security for the meathead?”

  Casey snorts and sways on her seat again. “Meathead!” She angles toward me and throws her arm around my waist. I’m not sure if she’s hugging me or just using me to stay on her seat. Either way, her hands are on me and not fuckface-bling-boy. “He called you a meathead, Leo.”

  Edgar’s eyes narrow. “Your name’s Leo?”

  I don’t answer him, I just let out a grunt in acknowledgement. I can be the ‘meathead’ cave man.

  “He’s okay, Ed. He’s my best friend in the whole world. Except Kit. I love her too, but Leo, he’s my best friend with a ding-do
ng and he’s fly.”

  I bite my tongue to stop the laughter bubbling up at her calling me fly. She thinks she’s got swag. She’s just a tiny fairy. A tiny white fairy.

  But she did call me her best friend and her hands are on me, so I can afford to cool my shit. “Yeah, Ed, I’m her best friend. And I’m fly.” I let my gaze track down the bar. “And you have thirsty customers, you can go.”

  His eyes follow mine for a long moment then he looks back to me but speaks to Casey. “I’ll be around. Shout if you need anything.”

  “It’s alright Eddie. He won’t hurt me.” Casey sways against me and her soft body presses against my side as I smile. “I mean, like, he won’t punch me. But he breaks my heart a lot of the time. It’s like a hobby of his.”

  I’m not smiling anymore.

  Ed glares at me a moment longer then his head flips toward a waiting customer. He taps the bar in front of Casey. “I’ll be around.”

  Casey lets out a giant dramatic sigh after she watches fuckface walk away, and I grind my teeth at the possibility that she’s watching him because she finds him attractive. I’m not like him, or like that other prick, Scotch. They’ve got this hipster thing going for them, with their artistic flairs and trendy jeans. I’m just a meathead fighter with no creative side except when I think up new interesting ways to choke a fucker out.

  “So Leo…”

  I look down at her as I sit again and hold her close against me. I know she’s drunk, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do now. “How’ve you been, Case? I’ve missed you.”

  “Aww, Leo. I’m missed you too, truly.” She nuzzles her face against my chest like a cat rubbing itself on her human. “You make me sad when you go see Sonia instead of me.”

  I press my eyes closed at the hurt in her voice. “Sunshine. That’s not what you think it is. Sonia’s not--”

  “No Leo, it’s okay. I’m trying to be a grownup about it.” Casey’s words slur as she sits heavier against me. “Wanna do shots? I wanna get drunk.”

  I smile bitterly. “I think you are drunk, Case. Do you want me to take you to your room so you can rest?”

  She sits up straight and moves away from me. “Nope. I don’t wanna go to sleep yet. Dreams suck. I wanna get drunk.”