Unfortunately, she leads me directly to Channing and the dark-haired man that he’s talking with. The man looks intimidating and has about three or four inches on Channing. His dark hair is cut short, showing off his masculine and handsome features. But the hard line of his jaw and the hooded coolness in his eyes warn me that he’s probably choosy about the individuals he spends his time with. He hadn’t bothered dressing for the pool, and he’s the only one wearing jeans and a dark tee that shows off the tattoos that darken both his arms.
Channing, on the other hand, is wearing a pair of red swimming trunks, and it’s all I can do to avoid looking at his sculpted abs. My eyes helplessly shift towards him, and my gaze collides with his. He looks like he wants to peel back all my emotional layers—and clothing—to see what lies beneath. He unsettles me.
“Ash, this is Colt,” Quinn introduces.
My eyes shift back to the other man, and he nods at me, unsmiling.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly.
“You must be Ashton. Hey, sweetness,” a masculine voice says as someone approaches our small group.
I look up as a dark-haired man approaches us dressed in jeans and a tank. He must have just arrived, because I hadn’t noticed him when we’d first stepped out onto the patio. He looks scruffy, but in a very good way. Whiskers line his jaw, and he looks rough and capable of handling just about anything.
“Ash, meet Remington. Rem, this is Ash,” Quinn introduces.
This is all so overwhelming, but I still manage to give him a smile.
He flashes me a devastating grin. “If you ever need a tour of the city, let me know. I can take you to places you’ve never been.”
Quinn shakes her head. “You all are fucking ridiculous. I bring a new woman around you guys and you all treat her like she’s tonight’s dessert.”
Remington laughs. “Then you need to stop recruiting housemates that look so damn edible.”
My face heats, and Quinn glares at him before tossing a look towards Sebastian. “If you guys chase her off, I will personally make certain that the only vaginas you see will be the ones in your dreams because the lot of you will be dickless!” she threatens loudly to them.
This is beyond uncomfortable, and my eyes somehow find their way to Channing. Instead of joining the conversation, he’s simply watching my reaction. I look away, and when Quinn tugs me towards one of the tables where Harper is sitting by herself, I am immensely relieved.
I’d met Harper last night, and she seems just as nice as Quinn. Though whereas Quinn is bold and speaks her mind, Harper is quiet with friendly eyes and a kind smile. Today, her long, chestnut hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail, and her vivid green eyes are sparkling with merriment. She’s about my height, and she’s one of those types that has a ton of sex appeal thanks to her curvaceous body. With her looks and body, you’d think she’d be more vivacious like Quinn, but Harper is much more reserved. She also happens to be dressed in shorts and a cute tank, so now I feel less self-conscious about my own outfit.
Quinn sighs as we sit down. “I should have warned you that they all only think with their dicks,” she grumbles.
Harper laughs softly. “Did you really think this evening would be any different?”
Quinn rolls her eyes. “I thought there was hope for them yet.”
Harper turns her attention on me, and as she smiles, it draws attention to the small beauty mark above her left upper lip. “The guys are just teasing you to see your reaction. They’ll quit with the flirting once they’re accustomed to you being around,” she assures.
“Good to know,” I murmur as I note that Gabe has now joined the others on the patio. Gabe’s definitely not my biggest fan.
“I’m going to go grab us some coolers,” Quinn announces. She pushes back her chair and walks across the patio.
Harper smiles at me. “Welcome to our dysfunctional family,” she muses.
“I’m sure it’s never dull.”
“Never,” she agrees. She looks at me with interest. “So, now that you’re staying, what are your plans?”
“I need to find a job.”
Quinn’s back, and she sets wine coolers in front of each of us. She sits down and turns her attention to our conversation. “The salon I work at is looking for a receptionist. I could put in a good word for you,” she offers as she brings her bottle to her lips.
I manage a laugh that hopefully doesn’t sound as uncomfortable as I feel. “I’m not organized enough to do that.” I look at Harper. “Quinn says you work with animals?”
Harper’s expression brightens. “I do. I’m a veterinary assistant.”
“That must be an interesting job.”
She laughs softly. “Absolutely. I get to work with animals, but I tend to get peed on a lot.”
Quinn snickers. “Better piss than shit.”
“True,” Harper agrees with a grin.
“Chow’s ready!” Sebastian calls.
Quinn turns to me. “You stay put, and I’ll grab what you want. Otherwise, you’ll end up being cornered while the food gets cold. Hot dog or burger?”
“You don’t have to do that,” I protest.
“You’re still limping, don’t think I didn’t notice. Humor me.”
“A burger, please,” I say, relenting.
Harper rises to her feet, flashing me a smile. “We’ll be right back.”
I watch them walk towards the grill, and all the guys move back so the women can claim their meals first. They have manners after all, nice to know. When Harper and Quinn return to the table, Gabe is right on their heels.
He sits in the only other available chair without invitation. His eyes focus on me as he sets his plate down. “How’s your hip? I noticed that you’re still limping a little.” He seems genuinely interested, but I know it’s the paramedic in him that’s asking.
“It’s getting better.” Thankfully, the bruising is high up on my hip, so it isn’t all that noticeable.
Gabe picks up his burger, but his eyes stay focused on me. “What are your plans now that you’re sticking around?”
I’m trying not to show how frazzled he makes me, and I pick up my wine cooler. “My first priority is paying rent, so I’ll be looking for a job.” I take a sip and hope he’ll leave well enough alone.
He takes a bite of his burger and finishes chewing. “The paper is in the kitchen. You might want to check the classifieds.”
“I will, thank you.” I reach for my own burger.
“So why Riverside?” he presses.
My eyes slide to Quinn, and she’s frowning a little at him. “She wanted a clean slate, like we all did when we followed Colt here,” she says simply, replying for me.
Gabe studies her, and then his eyes slide back to me. “Will you be considering any of the colleges? Channing goes to UC Riverside. He could probably help you with any information you might need.”
“Finances are a bit of an issue now, so I’m just going to concentrate on paying rent.” I take bite of my burger, hoping that he’ll get the hint.
“I never asked, where are you from?” Harper asks me curiously.
I finish chewing and reach for my napkin, wiping my mouth. “Philly. I just needed a change of scenery.”
“Are you an only child?” she asks.
Gabe is hanging on every word, and I struggle to hide my building anxiety. I hate talking about myself. “Yes.”
She nods and reaches for her wine cooler. “Me too.”
Gabe’s attention shifts from me to the other side of the patio, and we all follow his line of sight. A new man has arrived, and Gabe excuses himself and walks over to him.
I turn to Quinn. “Who’s that?” I ask, nodding at the blond man that Gabe is greeting with a clap to his back. They look like close friends.
“Kieran. He’s a fellow paramedic and Gabe’s shift partner most of the time,” she explains.
I’m relieved that Gabe seems to be thoroughly distracted, and the earlier tension f
ades.
***
The next morning, I’m sitting on the bed and scanning the classifieds. I’m reading through them slowly and carefully, and I’m disappointed. I was hoping to avoid retail since I’m terrible with socialization. Waitressing would be too stressful and would cause my anxiety to shoot through the roof. It probably wouldn’t pay enough anyway. There happens to be a few night shift stocker positions available at a couple stores, but if there’s heavy lifting involved—which seems likely—I wouldn’t be able to meet the position’s requirements. There’s a barista position, but I’m terrible under pressure. I could try cashiering, but again, the pressure would get to me. Working with food would be ideal, but there’s only two positions available, and they’re part-time.
I ease back from the paper and rub my temples. I’m making excuses for myself. I’m allowing my dyslexia to limit me, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to get in over my head, and all my life I’ve been considered a failure. The last thing I want is to fail at this new life too, so I am reluctant to stray too far from what I am accustomed to.
I need a job, though.
Once more, I lean forward and go through the ads, hoping that something will resonate within me. Whether I like it or not, I am going to have to venture away from my unrealistic expectations. Jobs aren’t easy, they aren’t meant to be. They’re positions that need filling, and a company can’t be successful unless it has employees. I’m sure training would be involved no matter where I apply. I like to think I’d be quick at learning, but my ability to process things is a bit slower than others. Especially when it’s in print.
An ad draws my attention for the second time. Dancers wanted!! Make $$$! My eyes linger on it. I’m a good dancer, it’s one of the few things I seem to be exceptional at. However, I’d ignored the ad the second I’d seen it, because I know they aren’t looking for cheerleaders.
With a shake of my head, I push aside the paper and flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I’m going to have to apply somewhere, but maybe I can do a little research first. As dumb as it sounds, I think I’d feel better applying for a job if I knew a little more about it. It’s times like these that I resent the dyslexia. I hate how it affects more than just my reading skills. It affects my thought process, my emotions.
I ache to feel normal, but I’m not.
With a firm set of my jaw, I sit up and force myself to quit feeling sorry for myself. I don’t do pity parties. This is my life, and I just have to live with it. At least I’m no longer surrounded by people that I continuously disappoint.
Harper had offered me her laptop if I needed to send in an application, so I leave my room and tentatively enter hers. She’d warned me that a lot of businesses prefer the application process online. After I have the laptop, I settle back on my bed. I turn it on and wait. The house is quiet, and I am comfortable being here all alone. Everyone else is at work, or in Channing’s case, at the university.
A new thought suddenly enters my mind. Do I need a bank account to cash a check? I don’t want my name out there in any way. I decide that’s the first thing I am going to search for, and soon, I’m navigating the internet. It’s slow going, but I find my answer and sigh with disappointment. As a non-account holder, I’ll have to pay a fee to cash a check. It’s not the end of the world, but I’m going to need every penny I can get my hands on.
I turn away and pick up the paper again, studying the ads. The ‘dancers wanted’ ad catches my eye once more.
Me an exotic dancer?
My parents and Hayden would flip—and that alone actually tempts me. A Delegrave stripping? If my father did manage to track me down, he’d disown me for sullying the family name. I blink as that thought lingers in my mind.
I shake my head. No, there are plenty of other jobs out there, and I’ll just have to take a chance on one of them.
As I debate my options, I chew my bottom lip. My eyes are drawn to the dancer ad again. I love to dance, but this would be so much more. Okay, so I am a little curious. After pulling the laptop closer, I type in the contact number for the ad and find that it belongs to a local strip club that advertises full nudity.
My nose wrinkles.
Nope.
I promptly close the laptop.
I can’t imagine dancing nude in public. Then again, my body is the one thing I’ve never been self-conscious about. Back in high school, I knew the boys had admired it, and Hayden had certainly liked it. No one has ever given me a reason to doubt my looks. On the outside, I’ve always been acceptable. It’s me that’s always been the problem.
Hayden and my father are likely searching for me, and my lips tighten. Not because they miss me, but because I’m a missing puzzle piece to their perfect puzzle. I wasn’t the boy that my father had wanted, and he’d never let me forget it. My parents had tried to conceive again, but my father had health issues years ago, and now he’s firing blanks.
Now that he’s growing older, he’s wanting to keep the business in the Delegrave family. This is where Hayden comes in. He’s my father’s best friend’s son, and Hayden would be the ultimate son-in-law—the perfect heir. There’s been talk about merging both family businesses, combining the names and making it a giant conglomerate. Next spring, I would have become Ashton Delegrave-Ross.
I’d pointed out at the first mention of Hayden ‘courting’ me that my father could merge the businesses without bringing Hayden into the family. As I recall his response, my chest begins to ache.
“I want a son, and you need someone who can handle your issues. Hayden’s willing to look beyond them, and he’s the best you’ll ever get. I’ll inherit the son I’ve always wanted—a real heir—and the Ross’s get the grandchildren they’ve always hoped for. You know Elenore, Hayden’s older sister, can’t conceive. This marriage and business merger will give everyone what they want—more wealth and family.”
“What about what I want?” I’d asked.
“This is what you want, you just don’t realize it yet.”
“But it’s not,” I’d whispered.
“What else are you going to do, Ashton? We’ve had to do everything for you. Your tutors got you through school, now it’s time for you to grow up.”
“I never asked for the tutors to do all the work for me,” I’d protested.
“No daughter of mine brings home anything below an A. You’re a Delegrave. We’ve done our best to hide your flaws, the least you can do is marry Hayden. He needs a socialite wife, and nothing changes for you. You’ll still be wealthy, but with a strong husband at your side. Your mother will take you under her wing and get you further involved with the charities.”
I shake my head as I shrug off the painful memory, and now I’m more determined than ever to make this new life work. My family and Hayden had seen me as a brainless Barbie. Pretty to look at, but empty and dumb in the inside.
I have to prove to myself that I am more, but I can’t do that until I can cover my share of the rent. It doesn’t matter what my future goals are—though I have yet to figure that out. What matters right now is that I need a job. There’s rent to pay, gas, food, and other extras I’ll likely need. Plus, it would be wise to begin saving. I can’t live here forever, and I will need a steady, dependable job someday. If college is in my future, which would have to be to have a job to last a lifetime, I’ll need to be able to pay for classes.
I won’t go crawling back to my parents. If that means struggling financially for many years to come, then so be it. At least all my decisions are my own to make.
A smile begins to form across my lips. I am going to focus on the positives, and right now, there are plenty. So I’ll be applying for a job that I don’t really want. Lots of people have jobs they aren’t thrilled about. It doesn’t matter if it’s less than ideal, because I can continue looking for something I’d enjoy while still being able to pay rent.
I reach over and grab the paper, scanning the ads again. When I find the two retail ads requesting cashier
s, I open the laptop.
I need to at least try.
Six
Ashton
I gaze moodily at the pool, a glass of iced tea on the table next to where my arm is resting. It’s early evening, and I have a lot on my mind. I’d applied at the retail stores that were hiring, but one of them never called back—probably because I hadn’t been able to list any references. The other was willing to take a chance on me and had emailed a request for an interview.
My face heats as I recall how flustered I’d become. The woman had wanted to know why I’d moved to Riverside and had asked questions I’d felt uncomfortable answering. As the interview progressed, the more I’d begun to stutter and stumble over my words. I haven’t been that bad in a long time, and it’s because I’d let my self-doubt get to me. When it was over, I’d seen the skepticism in the woman’s gaze, and I’d known that I’d blown the interview.
So here I am—two days later and still jobless.
My chest tightens.
I’d known that it’d be hard when I’d packed up and left, but to have failure staring me straight in the face is a hard pill to swallow. I want to prove them wrong. I can take care of myself. So what if I’m a slow reader, and I can’t spell worth shit. Who cares? Do I get flustered easily? Yeah, but I can’t be the only person in the world that becomes nervous when they’re put on the spot. My lack of reading and writing skills, my awkwardness, none of that should stop me from leading a regular life. I had set out to prove that my dyslexia doesn’t define who I am.
I am more.
Yet here I am, jobless.
I remind myself that life could be worse. At least I have a roof over my head for the next three weeks.
When I spy movement across the patio, I look over. Quinn has come home from her job at the salon. She walks across the patio and sinks down into the chair across from mine. She flashes me a friendly grin. “How’s the job hunting coming along?”
“Slow,” I say truthfully.
She nods. “I’m sure something will come up.”
Revolving Door Page 5