by Nola Marie
Josie taught me that too. Hers was the hardest lesson. The one I thought would have my back forever. The most painful. It still hurts like a bitch. I rub the center of my chest for second while my eyes find the waitress again.
Maddox hold up his hands in surrender before returning to his food. “I get it man. I have never dated.”
“Women only want you until the next thing comes along,” I tell him. The bitterness oozes from me. I know it does, but I don’t care. I have a fucking right to be bitter.
“I don’t know, man. I know a few couples that are actually in it for the long haul. My friend Zoey has been in love with her husband since they were kids.”
I watch him closely. I don’t know if he realizes it, but his tone and expression turn a little sad at the mention of Zoey.
I met Zoey a few times at Lucky’s. The girl had a lot of walls built around her that’s for damn sure. But now that I think about it, the way Maddox would look at her was a lot like longing. He would gravitate toward her protectively every time they worked the same shift. In fact, they even shared an apartment for a while.
“What was up with her?” I ask. “This guy she loves so much. Why was she living with you if she loved him?”
“That’s a long story,” he tells me with a shake of his head. “Let’s just say something happened to her that left her broken for a while.”
I can tell he’s not giving me more than that. When it comes to that girl, he never did share much. “Well, you may know some women that stick to their men but in my experience they’re just there until they find a new sucker.”
“Man, what the fuck happened to make you so jaded?”
“Are you the pot or the kettle?”
He gives a small laugh. “I’m not jaded, Angel. There’s only ever been one girl I’ve wanted, and she has been unavailable since the day I met her.”
I swallow hard at his statement that hits a little too close to home. I stab at the food on my plate, so I don’t have to look at him. “So, you’re telling me you’re not jaded by that. Not even a little.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he tells me still chuckling. “I’m totally fucked in the head over her. But it’s not her fault how I feel. She never led me on or gave me any kind of false hope. The only shot I ever had was that Jax would fuck up somehow, but he didn’t so here I am. And really, I’d be blind not to notice that they’re meant for each other.”
The guy just said it out loud. I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard him admit anything at all much less a full confession since I met him.
“Well, I may sound like a bitter bastard but there’s nothing you can say to convince that all women aren’t evil, soul-sucking, sadistic bitches.”
“And I ask again? What the fuck happened to you?”
I shake my head, standing to my feet. “Doesn’t matter,” I throw a twenty on the table. “I need some shut eye before our seven-a.m. call.”
He throws another twenty on the table then follows me out. “Need a ride?” he asks me, gesturing to his Suburban.
“Nah,” I tell him. “I think I’m going to walk for a while.”
He nods and walks to his ridiculously large vehicle.
I walk down the sidewalk for a bit trying to clear my thoughts of the past. Trying to get what Erica did to me out of my head. What Jason did to me.
Feeling the way I do makes me a goddamn hypocrite. I know this. I’m not broken hearted over any of it, but I don’t like being made a fool of. Every time I think about it, I see red. Almost quite literally.
Then the waitress comes back to my mind. It was the strangest feeling that I knew her somehow. Like down deep in my bones I feel it. Like she’s the one who is etched inside of me. Definitely not a feeling a one-night stand would cause.
Part of me wants to go back to that diner and see if it was her. But then what? What would I do? Because as much as I’ve wanted an answer for the last decade, I’m not sure I can handle seeing her. It is unnerving.
After a while, I realize I’ve walked the fifteen blocks to my apartment. Jake’s apartment actually.
I feel like shit that I’m still staying here after two years. But I have a feeling the extra money I give him towards rent helps.
I walk into the small apartment, trying to be quiet as possible. I take my shoes off at the door so that they don’t click on the floor while I make my way to my room.
I don’t even bother with a shower. I just fall into my bed. I’m not even sure I’m in the bed before I’m sound asleep dreaming of the girl that haunts me every night.
The guys and I meet up at an empty warehouse near 58th street. We all have red, bloodshot eyes. Our movements are sluggish at best. Well, except for Maddox. He is bouncing around like he’s had the best sleep of his life in spite of his glassy eyes and the fact I doubt he’s been to sleep yet.
“All right, boys,” Danny, our agent, says to us. “The director wants to run a few things by you guys before you go into makeup and wardrobe.”
“Excuse me,” Dane growls. “Did you say makeup?”
The director, Austin Paige, hangs his head. “There’s one every fucking time,” he mutters. “Look, the makeup is so the camera doesn’t catch glares and every imperfection. On camera, you won’t even know you have it on at all. It’s standard.”
I get it. My mom was an actress once before my baby sister was born. She would take me to sets with her on occasion. It was common to see a man sitting in the makeup chair.
Ryder and Maddox looked like they could give two shits if they put them in pink lipstick.
“You’ll be getting hair done as well,” Paige tells us.
Maddox rakes his fingers through the top of his hair with a smirk. “Not much to fix here.” It’s the same with all of us. Not intentional in the slightest that we all have practically the same hair style. It’s just easier to deal with.
“Here either,” Dane laughs, over the makeup thing already, running his hand over his short hair. He lost a bet a while back with Ryder and Maddox. The stipulation was he had to wear a mohawk for six months. Soon as the six months was over, he shaved his head. His buzz cut had grown out just enough for him to say he had hair. Short on the sides, longer on top like the rest of us, but he won’t let it get longer.
“We need to get you guys into wardrobe quickly before hair and makeup,” Paige tells us.
This time Ryder speaks up. “What’s wrong with what we’re wearing now?” he asks in that British accent he has.
“Just trust us,” he says. “I wanted to go over the layout out of what we’re doing.”
I am basically tuning him out right now because electricity prickles my skin with awareness. I turn to look toward the entrance and my attention is instantly caught by a sandy hair girl standing off with another woman. Except now I can see her hair isn’t really sandy colored. It’s light brown with shades of caramel, honey, and even a hint of copper. She looks like a fucking supermodel with mile long legs in thigh-high heeled boots, skin-tight jeans that accentuate her heart shaped ass, and a cropped leather jacket that makes her look like a fucking wet dream.
It’s the same girl from the diner. Again, her back is to me but the feeling from last night is just as strong. Of course, it is. I felt her the minute she entered the room.
“Isn’t that the girl from the diner?” Maddox whispers to me.
I shrug like I don’t notice but I’m not fooling anyone. We are all noticing the way she is bending over a rack of something. Every man in the room is noticing.
“Man, that is totally the girl from the diner,” he chuckles. “She looks even better than she did last night.”
“Are any of you listening to me,” Paige demands then he turns to see where all of our attention is at. Even he becomes momentarily mesmerized before he turns back to us. “Okay, I’ll repeat myself. This is going to be set up where you play the song. I want you to play like your life depends on it.”
“That’s it?” I ask. The concept is simple and
very unoriginal, but I know that’s why it has worked for so many others. What I don’t understand is why he is acting like we’re performing for the next Academy Award.
“That’s it.”
“I’m sorry, Mate, but if that’s all, why did you feel the need to discuss it with us like a bunch of primary students? Don’t talk to us like we’re stupid. We are as educated as you.”
The attention of everyone is now on the four of us. Including the girl. I see a pair of blue-green eyes that make my gut twists, but I can’t see her face clearly behind the rack of clothing. It can’t be her even though every molecule in my body knows that it is.
Her eyes zero in on me. Recognition flickers through them as they grow wide at first before narrowing into miniscule slits of anger.
My heart is racing as I try to figure out why she is in New York. What are the damn odds that I would be at the diner where she works? Why is she here right now?
I don’t get much time to think on it because they begin to quickly whisk us away to different chairs. She, with her back to me, goes to work with Maddox who is flashing that fucking million-dollar smile he has at her making my chest tighten just like it used to. Just like it does every time the news mentions her fiancé.
The other woman that was with her comes to me. “I’m Camilla,” she tells me extending her hand.
I look her up and down. She is sexy as hell. Maybe if I focus on her, the throbbing from the decade long knife in my back will stop throbbing.
“I’m Angel Martin,” I tell her giving her a smile that always seems to draw the ladies in.
Her dark eyes glisten as she flashes me a bright smile. “Oh, you’re going to be a handful,” she teases.
“Me?” I taunt back. “I’m nothing if not a perfect gentleman.”
“Well, I’m with wardrobe. It’s my job to make sure you look your best for the camera.” She scans me up and down. I notice the way her eyes travel slowly all the way down then back up. “I don’t think my job will be very hard at all.”
I give her a smirk as I make plans to get her number later. Something tells me she would be great in the sack a time or two.
Then my damn eyes have to dart back to her. The way her head travel up and down as she takes Maddox in grate on my nerves.
“Strip,” Cami orders.
I give her a raised brow but do as she says. I look over to see Maddox doing the same for her, giving me the urge to punch him in the face. I shake that shit off quick as I drop my pants and take off my shirt.
“Oh my god!” I hear the sexiest voice say. And God it is so much sexier than in my memories. Everything about her is. The years have, without a doubt, been amazing to her. I turn again to see Maddox completely nude while she looks to the ceiling trying to avert her eyes and that long hair hits below her ass.
Camilla gives a little giggle. “She’s new. Guess she wasn’t expecting a commando client. At least he has nothing to be embarrassed about,” she comments as she takes in Maddox’s tattooed toned body. Her eyes move back to me standing there in boxer briefs. “Then again neither do you,” she licks her lips as her eyes continue to wander.
“I’m sure you see plenty of guys like us all the time,” I tell her in mock humility.
“Let’s just say they don’t wear it quite as well.”
I pull on a pair of black leather pants she hands me. I can feel eyes boring into me. When I turn around, her back is to me again as she moves back to the clothing rack. She looks up over the rack, and once again we lock eyes for just a split second before she turns away.
“All right sexy,” Camilla says to me, “I’m done with you. Off to makeup and hair,” she tells me as she guides me to the makeup chair next to Maddox.
I reach out running a hand up her caramel-colored arm. “Maybe we can catch up after all this is over.”
She bites her bottom lip as she takes me in one more time then shakes her head with a laugh. “I’m not sure my boyfriend would like that.”
“Really!” she shouts out again.
Maddox and I turn to find her hiding her face with her hands while Ryder grinning widely like a fool.
“Pretty sure you’re in the wrong business if you can’t handle a little nudity, Love,” he tells her cockily.
“I can handle nudity,” she tells him without turning around. “I just didn’t expect it.”
“Then why did you turn around?” he taunts her. Daring her to turn and take a look making me clench my teeth to keep my damn mouth shut.
“Leave her alone Ryder,” Maddox calls out. “It’s her first day.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“She told me,” he shrugs.
“You had a conversation with her with your pants down?”
He gives another shrug. “Just wanted to make her comfortable. She nice. Hasn’t been in New York long.”
'Hasn’t been in New York long.’ Of course, she hasn’t. “You learned all that?” I grunt with a scowl.
“It’s called being polite,” he tells me with his own scowl. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah. Whatever,” he tells me with a wave.
Giggling has my eye being drawn behind me for the hundredth time in as many seconds. I watch through the mirror in front of me as Ryder leans over whispering into her ear. I grip the arms of the makeup chair and clench my jaw.
“What the fuck is up with you?” Maddox says again. “If you want her, go get her.”
“I don’t want her,” I tell him. “Just think Ryder need to lay off the douchery.”
“Go easy on him,” Maddox says in a warning tone of his best friend. “He has his reasons just like we all do.”
I grow quiet letting the conversation drop. I haven’t spent as much time getting to know the members of the band I’m in as I should. We’re friends and get along well. Work together ever better, but I haven’t divulged too much about myself to them. Except for Maddox, but he does things in such a subtle way, you don’t even realize it’s happening. And he never pushes for more.
At least, he never has before now. I still don’t think he’s pushing as much as he’s calling me out. Which is worse.
We’re all done with hair and makeup. Ryder gives the girl another look, up and down as she bends over a box of something. He walks behind her whispering something in her ear, making her giggle again.
That giggle. I love that giggle. I fucking hate that giggle. That giggle haunts my dreams and nightmares.
“What did you do to her?” I whisper.
“Nothing. Just chatted her up a bit, Mate. She fucking hot that’s for sure. Going to ask her for drinks later.”
“Is it just me or does she keep glaring daggers at you like she knows you?” Dane asks with a smirk.
“Oh, she can’t stand you,” Ryder says matter of factly.
I look at him with caution. Ryder has been known to say shit to get a rise out of someone. I tread carefully because I don’t want to give him more ammo. “Why the hell would she feel that way?”
“I don’t know Mate. I just heard her mumbling about you being an arsehole. Didn’t catch the rest.”
I have to fight to continue with the charade that I don’t know her but hearing that she still feels that way after all this time reignites my desire to know why. Actually "reignite" is the wrong word. The desire has always been there. Now it blazes brightly just as it did when we were in high school.
“She didn’t happen to mention how she knows me, did she?”
“Nah. Didn’t really ask either. Just assumed she was some hookup gone bad or something.”
I rub the back of my neck in frustration.
“Maybe best you just steer clear,” Dane suggests. “She kind of looks at you like she wants to rip off your balls. What’s her name?”
“Josephine,” Maddox, Ryder, and I answer at the same time, garnering me questioning stares.
I shake my head because I didn’t mean to slip. I also didn’t wan
t to believe it is really her. Even as my mind warred with me, wanting my eyes to be playing tricks on me. I didn’t want it to be her.
Except I also wanted it to be her. I wanted it to be her with everything in me.
There may be a dozen women named Josephine, but the odds of them even resembling her incredible beauty are astronomical. The odds of them evoking this raw, painful, powerful emotion from me are impossible.
It’s time I accept what’s right in front of me. To accept the fact the person I have loved the longest, missed the hardest, and tried so fucking hard to forget and even hate is standing right in front of me. The person who’s caused the most damage to this jaded, hollow heart of mine.
And only one word comes to mind.
“Shit.”
Josephine
Song
Fall to Pieces
When I walked into the warehouse with Camilla, the last person I expected to see was Angel Martin. My stomach dropped and my blood boiled. All at once, I wanted to run away and punch him in the face.
Of course, electricity fell over my skin. He’s always had that effect on me. It would’ve been a welcoming thing if he hadn’t, but it was there all these years later. Even before I saw him, my skin prickled with heat and recognition. My heart fluttered and stomach dropped simultaneously.
I’ve spent years forcing the thought of him from my mind. Trying to forget his sharp jaw, inky hair, and gray-blue, nearly silver eyes. Every time he would enter my mind, I’d force the image and memory of him away.
When we locked eyes the first time, his were full of confusion because he couldn’t see me clearly. I’m sure mine were full of hellfire and hate. I hate him more than anyone else on the planet.
Well almost anyone. There is one person I hate even more. Just the thought of her makes my insecure, high school-self want to pull a hood over my head and stare at the floor. Almost instinctively I find myself looking around to see if she’s lurking anywhere.
A soft hand grips my arm. “Are you okay?” Camilla asks me softly. “You’ve been on edge since we walked in the door.”