Lucky Ball

by Lisa N. Paul

  “I seem to have a bit of a sore ankle,” Wren said, shooting her own evil glance at Emmy, which made Emmy giggle. “How about if we sit down, and I can tell you a little about my friend here?”

  How the heck was she supposed to concentrate on anything with Logan sitting next to her?

  “…But that won’t happen tonight,” Wren declared, finishing her story, “because Emmy and I already checked with the ball, and he said I can totally give you my number. So yay!”

  Smith swung his arm around Emmy’s shoulders, “Babe, please tell me you’re not hiding any wacky shit from me. I’m not gonna find out that you need to consult fortune cookies before we fuck or anything, right? I mean, I like fortune cookies and all but…” Smith’s words burned like acid in Wren’s gut. “Ow, did you just kick my shin? Shit, Emmaline, that fucking hurt.”

  “We’re gonna go get the next round of drinks, sweetie,” Emmy chirped as she stood and walked away from the table with a confused Smith in tow. “Be back in a bit.”

  Wren turned to an attentive yet quiet Logan. The man had listened to everything she’d said, not once rolling his eyes or making fun. As he asked questions about her attachment to the FEB without probing too much into her past, Logan’s interest seemed genuine, and he’d effectively shut Smith down when he noticed Smith’s jokes were upsetting her.

  Logan’s expression had definitely darkened when he learned the reason Wren had left without giving him a way to contact her. “So let me get this straight. You didn’t give me your number the night we met because the ball advised you not to, but tonight it gave you permission to let me call you.” Lifting his glass to his lips, he added, “If that’s something I still want to do.”

  Shit, when he put it that way, it sounded ridiculous. Then again, Wren had never denied that her need for the FEB was absurd. But it was her reality. It was also reality that the sexy-as-sin man sitting next to her didn’t have to deal with her brand of crazy. She’d just dumped pounds of it on him and was expecting him to still want her.

  “Oh…right, of course you should only call me if you’re still interested.” As if stammering over her words wasn’t bad enough, Wren reached for her glass, only to find it empty. This is why you should stay home and watch Netflix, you flake. You suck at life.

  Logan shifted in his chair, his chocolate gaze focused on her, yet his expression was unreadable. Oh no, he’s reaching into his pocket. He’s gonna leave some cash on the table and bail. Wren dropped her gaze to her hands, which trembled around the base of her empty glass, before deciding that she would leave the awkward situation before he did. Sliding her chair back, she reached for her purse.

  “Hey”—Logan leaned in, cocking his head so his eyes met hers—“are you going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna use the restroom.” That sounds plausible, right?

  “Mhmm.” Logan’s brow arched. “Before you do that, let me have your phone number.”

  “What?”

  “Wren, the last time you disappeared into the ladies’ room, I didn’t see you again for weeks. I have no intention of taking that chance again.”

  Wren looked at Logan’s hands, and much to her surprise, it wasn’t money in his grip but his cell phone. “Oh…”

  “You just spent fifteen minutes explaining how your ball gives you the best advice, right? Well, I think that little guy advised you to give me your number tonight.” Tingles rushed down her spine when Logan tilted her chin up. “And you don’t get to leave this table ‘til I get it.”

  Holy hell, I couldn’t get up right now if I tried. I’ve literally melted to the chair. Instead, she gave him her digits and was startled when her phone rang, an unknown number flashing on the screen. After apologizing to Logan for the disruption, she answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Making sure you gave me your number and not the pizza joint down the street,” Logan said with a devilish grin, his phone to his ear.

  Her every pent-up nerve unfurled with that one sentence, causing unrestrained giggles to erupt from her body. “Wait, who is this?” she teased, unable to believe that someone as gorgeous and charming as Logan Enders could possibly be sweet and understanding as well.

  “Oh, maybe I have the wrong number. Is this Pizza Hut? If so, I’ll have a large pepperoni with extra cheese, please.”

  “Sure thing, sir. Can I interest you in an order of bread sticks?”

  Logan’s gaze heated, and his Adam’s apple moved up and down. “I have my own bread stick, thanks. But send over your hottest delivery girl. I prefer blue-eyed brunettes named Wren.”

  “Are you guys talking to each other on the phone?” Smith’s question was a bucket of cold water over an open flame. “We leave them alone for ten minutes, and he’s acting all strange now too. Babe, what’s up with your girl?”

  “Smith, you say one more thing about Wren, and you’ll be finding another babe to bang. You’re already skating on thin ice tonight as it is.”

  Turning her attention to Smith, Wren noticed that the perpetual grin and confident aura that seemed to be an innate part of Smith’s makeup was no longer present. In fact, the guy looked down right spooked. As for Emmy, she had come into the evening practically gushing over her new man, and now she seemed guarded.

  “What happened, Em?”

  “What happened is I caught Mr. Jones here in a lie, and you know how I feel about liars.”

  Oy. Emmy was the most loyal and accepting person Wren had ever known, but one of the very few things someone could do to break the bonds of Emmy’s friendship was lie to her. And if Smith had done that, there would be no fixing it.

  “I didn’t lie to you, Emmaline. I just didn’t tell you everything.”

  Smith’s adamant declaration made Wren wonder if there were some shades of gray to the black-and-white story in Emmy’s mind. And with the strong feelings her friend seemed to have for the man sitting next to her, it was Wren’s job to figure out the facts before irreparable damage was done.

  Apparently Logan had the same idea when he asked, “Can someone tell us what happened?”

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” Emmy seethed, her eyes darting from Smith’s to Wren’s. “How would you feel if you were dating someone and found out that they were keeping a huge secret from you? How would you like it if you learned said secret from a random stranger instead of the person who had been claiming to be ‘so into you’ for weeks? Would that give you the warm fuzzies?”

  “She found out, huh?” Logan said to a clearly crestfallen Smith.

  “Yeah, and I was going to tell her when we went to get the drinks, but one of the guys we went to high school with cornered us and started blabbing.”

  Had Wren not felt Logan’s body tense, she’d have heard his tension when his question came out from behind gritted teeth. “Did he say anything else?”

  Smith’s face relaxed. “No, man, it’s all good.”

  Wren barely heard Logan exhale as she focused on her girlfriend’s expression, trying to figure out just what kind of horrible thing Smith was hiding and what kind of payback it would require. “Ems, talk to me.”

  Sighing, Emmy regained her composure, a trick Wren admired. “Did you know that Smith’s twin brother plays bass for Shades of Certainty?”

  “Smith has a twin brother? Wait… Smith knows Shades of Certainty? Holy shit!” Shades of Certainty was one of Wren and Emmy’s favorite bands. They’d started following them when they were freshmen in college, had seen them a few of times in concert, and knew all of their songs. Wren swore certain songs could have been written just for her. Gah… “That’s so cool, Em! How come you didn’t tell me this before?”

  “I would have,” Emmy gritted, “but I just found out ten minutes ago from some drunk guy at the bar who nearly trampled me to get to Smith.”

  “I was planning on telling you, I swear. It’s just—”

  “Smith, in my book, omitting information is the same thing as lying. I felt like an idiotic, empty-headed fembot s
tanding there next to you while that guy went on and on about something clearly everyone knew except me. I’m good enough to fuck your brains out, hear about your day, and make you French toast, but I’m not good enough to know that your brother is Marcus Jones and he’s performing here tonight? My God. If I’m so meaningless, why reserve us a table so close to the stage?”

  Smith stared at Emmy, emotions written on his face, but when he opened his mouth, no words exited.

  Then all the things Emmy said began to click together for Wren. Shades of Certainty was playing at Crushed? Holy hell. No wonder the place was so jammed. How had she and Emmy even gotten in? Wren put those questions aside as she watched Emmy try to hide her misery and Smith try to dig himself out of trouble. As for Logan, he sat quietly, taking in the scene unfolding before him.

  After all the years of Emmy rescuing Wren from herself, it was time for Wren to return the favor. “Em, anyone that spends more than ten seconds with you knows you are incredible. Sure, you’re freaking gorgeous, but your looks don’t even make the top five reasons why there is nothing meaningless about you. Don’t you agree, Smith?”

  The guy nodded so fast, Wren wondered if a case of whiplash was in his future.

  Wren continued. “Do you want to know what I think? Smith, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that when it comes to fame and fortune, it’s hard to tell when someone wants you for you or for what you can give them. I know that you like Smith, but I’ve known you our whole lives. He’s only known you a few weeks. Sure, that time has been intense, but who knows what kind of relationships he has had in the past? Maybe Conan over here has only been with nasty skanks or women who have used him to get to his brother.”

  Logan’s cough barely hid his chuckle while Smith’s lovable green gaze narrowed into one that promised friendly revenge.

  “All I can guarantee is that he’s never been with someone as fantastic as you.” When Emmy smiled, Wren knew she was getting somewhere, so she went in for the finish. “He should have told you who his brother was before you got here tonight, and I’m sure he knows if he wants you in his life, he won’t make the same mistake again.” Wren glared at Smith. “Right?”

  “I’m really sorry, babe.” Smith turned Emmy’s chair to face his. “I’m thinking your friend is one smart chick. My brother is Marcus Jones. The things women have offered me just to get a pair of his used underwear would make you blush. I really dig you, Emmaline, and when you didn’t show any signs of connecting my name to my brother’s, I wanted to enjoy it a little longer. I promise from tonight on, no more lies, no more omissions. Okay?”

  Emmy nodded. Wren knew that Emmy was collecting herself, because there was no way Smith’s apology didn’t affect her. Hell, it had even made Wren a bit gooey inside, and she wasn’t attracted to the guy.

  “How about we go back and get those drinks?” Emmy suggested. “I think we left them on the bar.”

  “Nah, the waitress knows where we’re sitting. She’ll bring them to the table, since they’re already paid for.”

  “I didn’t see you pay for anything.”

  “Call it a perk for being with the band.”

  As if on cue, the waitress brought over the beverages. Introducing herself as Carly, she gave Smith a quick smile but showered the rest of her attention onto Logan. She draped herself over him when setting down his drink, placed her vast cleavage directly in his face when she gave Wren her cocktail, and made sure he saw her tiny tight ass when she unnecessarily bent in half to place Smith’s and Emmy’s drinks in front of them.

  After that display, Wren knew another round would be in order sooner rather than later to quell the unwarranted jealousy she felt each time the woman looked at Logan. So Wren grabbed the FEB, asked if a third drink was wise, and sighed with relief when she got the proverbial thumbs-up. The next round of drinks was ordered before the waitress even left the table.

  “Was it me, or did that server use more muscles delivering our drinks than I use at the gym?” Emmy asked as the waitress sashayed away.

  “Oh, thank God you noticed that too.” Wren exhaled. She didn’t want to come off as possessive—after all, Logan was just a sexy man she’d shared an evening and some kisses with nearly a month prior—but what that woman had done with her body could have been illegal in some states. “I don’t remember getting full melon exposure when we first got here tonight.”

  “Melon exposure?” Smith asked as Logan chuckled.

  “Now that you mention it”—Emmy’s brows pinched together—“when we went to the bar to order our drinks, right before I found out about Smith’s brother, her top was perfectly intact.” Shrugging, Emmy snorted. “You know what they say—‘The way to a man’s tips is through a chick’s tits.’”

  Both men choked on their drinks as Wren laughed out loud. “No one says that. Everyone thinks it, but no one actually says it.”

  While the two women broke into peals of giggles, the men chuckled briefly before they had a silent conversation of odd looks and slight head movements. Wren assumed they thought their behavior went unnoticed. She kept up her discussion with Emmy about Shades of Certainty and what songs would be played that evening as she tried to decipher just what the hell was going on between Logan and his friend.

  “You ladies are big SoC fans, huh?” Smith asked and shot an odd look at Logan.

  “We love them,” Emmy answered. “Seriously, Wren and I have seen them play five times and in three states. I gotta tell you, I’ve always had quite the crush on Noah.”

  “You’re a drummer girl, huh?” Smith grinned. “I’ve been known to pound out a pretty steady beat. Don’t you think, Em?”

  “Wow.” Wren snorted. “That was lame, even for you, Smith.” Without thinking, she sidled up closer to Logan. His scent was intoxicating, all woodsy and fresh.

  “Seems like you know my friend pretty well,” Logan said, draping his arm around the back of her chair.

  “Well, Emmy does tell me everything. Ev-ery-thing.” She winked at Smith before giggling.

  Logan took a pull from his beer before asking, “What about you, Wren? Who’s your favorite?”

  “Hmm, that’s a tough question.” Even though it wasn’t, she just didn’t want to sound like a weirdo. “I love them as a whole—I mean, come on, they’re fantastic. Greg Landon’s voice is amazing, but for me, it’s more about their actual songs…”

  “What do you mean?”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “This is going to sound so… I don’t know, girlie, but I’ve always thought SoC has the best lyrics. It’s like every song speaks to me, even the harder songs. Don’t stare at me like that, you guys. I told you it was silly. Ask Emmy—I’m a words girl. In college, I minored in poetry.” Wren’s gaze darted from a pie-eyed Logan to a slack-jawed Smith and back. “Maybe I should have just said I like Greg’s guitar-playing.”

  Logan swiped his vibrating phone from the tabletop and stared at the screen. “Um, I…I gotta go. I’ll ah…be back soon.”

  “Wow, I didn’t realize how offensive my answer was.” She tried not to let the disappointment show. “Guess I won’t be seeing him again, will I?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. You’ll be seeing him real soon,” Smith practically chanted.

  And he thinks I’m strange?

  Chapter Six

  I’ll Worship Your Body

  “Good evening, Fort Washington! I’m Marcus Jones, in case you’ve never heard of me, and we are Shades of Certainty.” The bass player winked, and the room erupted into applause and whistles.

  Six times Wren had seen this band in concert, but never had she been so close. She could see the spot on Marcus’s knee were the jeans were threadbare. Oh my God.

  “As most of you probably know, we’ve always enjoyed doing pop-up performances for you, our hometown fans, between tours. It’s our way of thanking you for your years of loyalty and support.” Wren nearly squealed when Marcus looked at their table, nodded at his brother, and smiled before
scanning the rest of the bar. “From the number of you here tonight, I’m guessing word traveled fast and furious, and speaking for all of us…we are fucking thrilled to see you!”

  The cheers were deafening as the band members laughed. Quiet chanting started toward the back of the bar. At first, Wren couldn’t make out what was being said. But as the word was repeated, it picked up volume and speed. People were calling for Greg, the group’s front man and singer. Crazy how in the excitement, she hadn’t noticed his absence.

  “Ahh!” Marcus beamed. “We took bets backstage on how long you all would let me talk before kicking my ass off stage.” He looked at his watch and turned to the keyboard player. “Looks like you won, Ethan. They gave me five minutes.”

  Wren peered around, hoping she’d see Logan on his way back to the table, but he was nowhere to be seen. While concern about what she could have done to scare him off nibbled at her conscious mind, she forced herself to stay in the moment. After all, could life get any better than watching SoC live and up close?

  “You want Greg Landon.” Marcus pulled the microphone from the stand and held it as he walked to the edge of the stage. “Not sure if you all heard, but poor Greg had his tonsils taken out two weeks ago and is home recovering. Ladies, I have it on good authority that cherry popsicles are his favorite.” Marcus’s wink must have made panties melt throughout all of Crushed. “That said, he won’t be joining us tonight…BUT”—Marcus halted the booing before it started—“we have something fucking amazing in store for you. When we first started out, just a group of kids playing instruments in our garage, there were five of us. Did you know that?”

  Silence blanketed the bar. Wren couldn’t imagine what commanding that kind of attention felt like.

  “The great Greg Landon has been with us as our guitar player and one of the finest voices in rock ’n’ roll since the day we started SoC, but as some of you know, he wasn’t our original lead. Nope.” When Marcus popped the p, murmuring began in the audience. “Our original front man, the guy who put our crazy asses together and wrote every song Shades of Certainty has ever recorded, is here to join us, not just tonight, but for the other shows in our pop-up mini tour over the next eight weeks while Greg is recuperating. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for… Logan Enders!”