International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2)

by Audrey Carlan

  “Yeah.” I sip my beer. “And such an eclectic mix of individuals.” I nod to the black guy in the center setting up his mic, dressed exactly like a wannabe Michael Jackson from the 1990s. His outfit is complete with high-water dress slacks, a tight white T-shirt, and a sparkly glove. Even his hair is cropped in close curls at the sides.

  “I don’t know ’bout all that.” Royce runs his gaze up and down the lead. “But if the brother sounds anything like Michael, I’ll be happy.”

  Bo comes back, holding four double shots of tequila this time.

  “Doubles?” I chuckle.

  “Go big or go home, right?” He laughs heartily.

  “Guess so.” I take one of the short glass tumblers.

  “For you, my lady.” He passes one to Wendy.

  “When are you going to learn I’m Mick’s lady, not yours, not ever,” she chastises while accepting a glass.

  Royce wraps his long fingers around the glass. It looks minuscule in his giant hand. “What do we drink to now?”

  Before one of them can wax poetic about trusting your heart again, I jump in. “To friendship . . . and family. New and old.”

  “Friendship and family. All right,” Royce murmurs, clinking his glass.

  “Hell yeah,” Bo adds.

  “Family.” Wendy’s voice cracks when she brings her glass to the center of the table where we have our hands stretched out. “I love you guys,” she whispers.

  “Ugh! Wendy!” I groan.

  “Woman!” Royce mutters.

  “Not that kind of family, God willing.” Bo slices the air dramatically.

  “I’m sorry! Jeez Louise!” she huffs.

  “Tink, you’re with the guys, your brothers from another mother. You don’t get all mushy,” Bo warns.

  “My man Bo’s right, little lady. If you’re gonna roll with the big bros, you gotta lay off the sweet, ya hear?” Royce adds.

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m just sayin’ I love you. You act like I’m writing you love poems and promising to name my firstborn after you.”

  “Bo is the perfect name!” Bo fires off instantly.

  “No way! Parker is hip!” I toss mine into the ring.

  Royce shakes his head. “Gentlemen, I got this. Royce is classy. Elegant. Definitely a leader.”

  “What about Michael?” Wendy blinks prettily and drinks her beer.

  All three of us groan again.

  “Just do your shot!” I demand with a laugh.

  “Fine! To family!” She clinks her glass, and we all toss the doubles back.

  Now the heat in my belly is swirling like a boiling hot tub at the exact perfect temperature for soaking. I ease back into my seat, running my finger over the rim of my beer. “All right, minxy, you’ve had your shots. Tell us about you. Where did you grow up?”

  “Sacramento.”

  “California. The land of fruit and nuts. Makes total sense,” Bo jokes.

  She grins. “Met Sir Mick when he was staying at a hotel for a conference. I was bartending the event. We spent the night together, and two days later he had my shit-hole studio apartment packed up and me on a plane to Massachusetts, where I’ve been ever since.”

  “Shee-it, brother’s got moves. Get a woman to drop her life and move across country in two days.” Royce shakes his head and runs his hand over his bald scalp.

  Wendy smiles. “I fell in love at first sight. Add the fact we’re both in the lifestyle, and everything clicked into place for us. Before him, I had nothing. A couple of friends. A shitty job and was struggling to make ends meet. No high school education, though he did make me get my GED online. And look at me now. I’ve never been happier.” She takes a long pull from her pint.

  “Wow, Tink, what happened to your family?” Bo’s facial expression turns into one of concern and compassion. The loving guy behind the leather and man-whore ways.

  She shrugs. “I don’t have any. According to what my social worker told me when I was a teen, my mother had been a drug addict and there was no father on record. When I was about five, child protective services was called because I was walking myself to and from kindergarten, and I was malnourished. Teacher made complaints, the social workers came in, and I never saw my mother again. She never even tried to get me out of the system. Then I bounced around from one crappy foster care home to another until I was fifteen and decided I’d had enough.”

  “Fifteen?” I put my hand over her shoulder. “Wendy.” My throat clogs at the image of a tiny redheaded little girl being moved from home to home. How could anyone do that to her? She’s amazing.

  She rolls her lips inward. “Yep. I already topped out at a high IQ and had the hacking and lying skills to fake an ID stating I was eighteen. I left school and went to work. Started waitressing at a diner. Rented rooms or stayed on friends’ couches when I could to save money. And then finally, my knight showed up.”

  “What do you mean?” Royce asks, leaning into his large forearms on the tabletop, as engrossed in her story as I am.

  The bar around us is buzzing with activity, people laughing, drinks being shared, hoots and hollers coming from the back room, but the three of us are glued to our seats and solely focused on our pretty redheaded sister.

  That bright smile I’ve gotten used to when it comes to Wendy breaks out from behind the dark conversation. “Back to the hotel bar I was working when I was twenty. Michael came up, ordered whiskey, sneered when it wasn’t a good year or brand, and proceeded to share his thoughts on the stuff. I happened to have a secret bottle of Macallan stashed in the bar for when I needed a real pick-me-up.”

  “Guuurrrlll, you are smooth.” Royce smirks.

  She waggles her eyebrows. “Don’t I know it!” She holds up her hand and high-fives him over the table, lightness leaking back into her story, pushing aside the sadness from revealing her past.

  Bo flicks his hand. “Then what happened? Don’t leave me hanging, sweetheart, it’s a heavy weight to bear, if you know what I mean.” He grins wickedly, cocking a brow.

  She turns and punches his shoulder.

  “Ouch!” He rubs at the burn. “I hate when you get me with those knobby knuckles.”

  “You’re lucky I don’t invest in a pair of brass knuckles!” She holds up her small fist like a little Italian grandma would when threatening her grandchildren to keep in line.

  He rubs at his sore bicep, pouting. “Just continue the story, Tink.”

  She licks her lips and leans into the table. “Well, I told Mick that I’d hook him up with the good stuff if he didn’t tell my boss.”

  “Risky.” I suck in a breath through my teeth.

  She nods. “Yeah, but he was handsome, and I swear the way he looked at me, like he could see straight through to my soul, destroyed any resolve I had. I wanted nothing more than to please him. Be his everything so he could be mine.”

  Royce whistles. “Damn. Now why can’t I find me a woman like that!”

  “Because you’re not looking in the right places, dumb ass.” Bo chuckles.

  Royce frowns. “Bull. ’Sides, coming from you, King of the Chicklets . . . ,” he scoffs. “I wouldn’t believe a word you had to say about the subject. Park, on the other hand—at least he found a good one.”

  This time I scoff, “Shit. You’re looking at the wrong guy. I couldn’t hold on to a good woman if my life depended on it. I think I have a sign in invisible ink written across my forehead, one you can only see under a black light, that says ‘Cheat on Me’ or some shit.”

  Royce shakes his head. “Not true. I don’t believe for a minute Sky cheated, and the sooner you accept it and give the poor thing a chance to explain, the better off we’ll all be.”

  I grind my teeth and wish I had another shot of tequila to wash down the instant lump in my throat.

  Bo glances away and pretends to be interested in the server placing food down at a table near us.

  “Is that what you think too, Bo? Wendy already hit me with her suggestion today, you m
ight as well get it out on the table right now.”

  Bo shrugs. “You sure you’re ready to hear what I think?”

  “I’m certain I don’t want to be surprised by you dropping the bomb later. We’re all here, and sharing is caring, right? Lay it on me.” I feel like a peacock whose feathers have been ruffled. Frustration, irritation, and sudden anger are burning a path through my veins, looking for any way to be let out.

  Wendy puts a hand to Bo’s forearm and glances up at him. He tilts his head. “Okay, fine. I think you’re scared.”

  Not something I expected him to say.

  “Scared? Of a hot blonde? Seriously? That’s your play?” I huff out a harsh breath and wait for him to continue.

  He plucks at his goatee and taps his bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re scared of what it means to love someone the way you love her. Scared that she’ll do exactly what Kayla did . . .”

  I widen my eyes and slam my drink on the table. Thankfully I drank most of it, so it doesn’t slosh out of the glass. “She did do what Kayla did. Sky stayed the night in Johan’s hotel room—”

  Bo lifts his hands. “I get that. I do. Except you can’t prove she cheated based on his word alone. Look, all I’m sayin’ is the girl I met, the girl I hung out with in New York, was wild for my best friend. All in. Your dream girl. Then she comes to Lucky’s and spends time getting to know all of us. Opens herself up to our family. Talks about moving to our town. What reason would she have to give that up?”

  “She likes hard cock? Girl likes to fuck. Know that firsthand. And she’s damn good at it. Maybe she wanted a reunion with Johan’s dick.” The thought of Sky getting anywhere near Johan’s puny pickle has me squeezing the pint glass so hard I just may break it.

  Royce’s head drops down toward the table. “Aw man, you had to go there.”

  A powerful burst of anger speeds through my system, making me hot all over. I grind my teeth so hard I hope I don’t crack a molar.

  They don’t get it. They don’t freakin’ understand what she did!

  “Yeah, yeah, I went there. Because I need to know that my team, my family, is there for me. Me! I should be your priority, not the woman who fucked me over!” My voice gets raspy and raw, and I suck down the rest of my beer. “I need another fuckin’ beer.” I stand up and head to the bar, needing a minute of peace. Some time to cool down before I explode on the outside the way I’m imploding on the inside.

  Fuckin’ hell. Are they backing her up?

  They’re supposed to be my friends. My family. Not hers. Then I remember, Sky doesn’t have any family.

  Images of her flutter through my mind as I wait for the bartender to come take my order.

  Sky’s nervousness over meeting my parents.

  Later, Skyler laughing at my mother and father bickering.

  My girl exchanging phone numbers with all the guys over beers and pulled-pork sandwiches.

  Sky and Wendy talking wedding plans.

  My girl promising to attend the wedding . . . with me.

  Sky telling me she was thinking about moving to Boston.

  What if she’s telling the truth?

  Johan is a master manipulator. He could have easily built up the time he spent with her. Lied to me. My heart starts a rapid-fire beat, and my stomach clenches. I clutch at it and take a couple of deep breaths. I need more beer. And another shot of tequila.

  “Beer or tequila?” the bartender asks.

  “Both. A round of four pints and four more double shots of tequila. And you can send a waitress over. We’ll need to eat.”

  “Good idea, band is about to start.” He lifts his chin at the seven piece standing up on the stage.

  The guitarist is strumming a lick, and the keyboardist is warming up his fingers. As I wait for the refills, the horn players run some scales, and my heartbeat starts to ease once more. It’s probably more from the liquor making its way into my bloodstream, but whatever it is, I’m thankful.

  Royce comes and stands in front of me. “I’m sorry, brother. What you’re going through can’t be easy, and it’s not my place . . .”

  I shake my head. “Naw, man, it’s cool. I need to hear it. If not from the people who care about me, then who?”

  “You gonna take our advice?”

  I shrug. “Not sure what I’m going to do just yet. All I know is, for the rest of the night, I just want to let loose with my team. Is that okay?”

  He grins wide, his white smile extra bright against his dark skin and his white shirt. “Yeah, that’s all right.” He puts his hand around my neck and leans forward so that our foreheads almost touch. “No matter what, though, you always have me, Bo, Wendy. We’re your people. We got your back. Still, it’s our job to kick your ass sometimes. Help you see things in a different light in the event you’re blinded. Say like when you think a good woman stepped out on you.”

  I laugh even though he’s still pushing, but I get why. “You like her for me.” I lift my gaze to his dark one.

  He does a half shrug. “Yeah, I like her for you. Think she’s the whole package. ’Sides. I wanna see my boy happy. I’ve never seen you happier than you are with her.”

  His words hit hard, slamming into my subconscious and mixing up the messages my past is telling me about my future. “I was happy. More than that. I was in love.”

  He squeezes my shoulders hard. “Brother, you’re still in love. It’s why it hurts so bad.”

  And he’s right. Regardless of what I believe Skyler may have done with Johan, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m head over heels in love with the woman. And I didn’t even get to tell her to her face. Maybe if I had, she would have waited for me to get there to deal with her ex. Maybe then she wouldn’t have thought she was alone.

  “Christ!” I run my hand through my hair. “Brother, I’m a fucking mess.”

  Royce turns me around to face the bar where the bartender has placed the four beers and four double shots. “Yes, you are. It’s okay. We got you.”

  He grabs two of the beers in one hand, two in the crook of his elbow wedged against his body so he can grab two of the shots. I grab the last two in my good hand and bring them over to the table.

  The second I put the drinks down, Wendy catapults into my arms. The side of her face presses against the side of mine, her breath in my ear. Her coconutty scent fills my nostrils, displacing the dank greasy smell of the bar and replacing it with something more pleasant, comfortable even, as I’ve become more familiar with her scent.

  “I’m sorry, Park. I never want you to feel like we aren’t Team Parker. No matter how much I like Skyler, you’ll always be my priority.” Her fingernails dig into my back as she tries to imprint herself on my skin.

  I rub her back and enjoy her hug for a moment, letting the feeling of having this woman’s care and concern seep into my aching, tired body. “Thanks, Wendy. I’m sorry too. To all of you. I was a schmuck there for a moment. I’m working through it all.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” Bo mutters under his breath, but it’s loud enough we can all hear him.

  Unfazed, I continue. “How’s about for the rest of the night we just have fun. Eat, drink, and be merry. Yeah?”

  Wendy eases back, her eyes a little watery, but she holds her tears in check, for which I’m thankful.

  “Shots up.” Royce holds the tequila high over the small table.

  The three of us follow suit.

  “To never letting anything get between what we have. We’re Team IG, all the way!”

  “Team IG!” Wendy cheers, and Bo follows.

  “Now that I can drink to.” I smile, letting go of all the baggage I entered the bar with. The band starts up with one of Michael Jackson’s biggest hits, “Billie Jean.”

  Wendy screeches out her excitement with a yelled “Woo-hoo!”

  Roy pushes even more to the side so he can see fully. The keyboards kick off, and by the time the chorus hits, we’re all singing along at the top of our lun
gs.

  Team IG, all the way.

  7

  The door to my conference space opens with what seems like a thundering creaking sound, hitting my hungover mind like a hammer banging against my temple. I grind my teeth through the pain and swallow down the bile that wants to come up.

  Eloise Gagnon enters. “I believe I’m next for my interview,” she says in a small voice while opening the door more fully.

  I nod. “Yes, come in. Have a seat, Ms. Gagnon.”

  “Eloise is fine.” She smiles slightly, but there isn’t much sincerity behind the gesture. Almost as if she’s done it out of habit, because it’s what someone does upon meeting a new person.

  The woman is petite and thin, very little curve to her form, which is shown clearly through the jeans and long-sleeved V-necked shirt she’s wearing. On her feet are a pair of simple ballet flats. Her brown hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail at her nape. The black-rimmed glasses actually add to her appeal rather than take away from it. She looks young, just out of college, but her file puts her closer to my age.

  “I’m Parker Ellis. I assume you know why I’m here?” I ask the same question I’ve asked every employee so far.

  “Yes. To discuss productivity, but I imagine it has more to do with the fact that there’ve been some pretty serious product leaks.”

  I narrow my gaze. “And what would make you think that?” My spidey sense has taken notice.

  She shrugs. “Makes sense. Company loses a lot of money because of our competitors launching a similar product before us, so it would stand to reason that we have an internal problem of some kind.”

  I lean back in my chair, dragging my fingers along the pencil I’m holding until it falls to the table’s wood surface with a whack. Once it’s down, I pick it back up and repeat the process. It’s a technique I mastered back in Harvard during a course on interrogation techniques. I had a real ball-busting business analysis class. I’ve found the practice tends to annoy people, which can cause them to slip up and reveal information they were trying to hold back.

  Her gaze flicks to the pencil as I repeat the same process over and over. She flinches when it smacks the table again, but I pretend not to notice by making a show of skimming her file.