by Coralee June
“Come in,” a voice on the other side of the door called. Surprisingly, I detected a hint of a British accent. Twisting the doorknob, I opened the door and slipped inside the stark, clean office. Compared to the rustic vibe of the restaurant, this office was spotless. I doubted it ever saw a speck of dust. Crisp, white walls filled four corners, and her white desk stood in the middle on marble tile. It felt like I was walking into an entirely different building.
“You Blake?” a voice drenched in a posh accent asked. I turned my gaze to the woman sitting at the desk. She had long, dark hair with wiry curls. Her white, button-up shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a nude bra underneath. Her dark skin was smooth and silky, and her eyes were a bright shade of brown that looked both stoic and disarming. I found myself thinking how beautiful she was as she stared expectantly at me. It wasn’t until she coughed that I realized that she had asked me a question.
“Oh, yes. I’m Blakely. Decker’s…friend?” Was that what we were? Saying he was my long lost brother’s sexy best friend slash roommate felt like an overshare.
“I don’t like Blakely. Kind of a mouthful, yeah? Blake it is,” she replied before grabbing a coffee mug that said Head Bitch In Charge and taking a sip.
“Works for me,” I replied with a shrug.
Rose slammed her coffee mug down and stood up, placing her hands on her hips. “Girl. Within five seconds of meeting you, I changed your goddamn name. Have some self-respect!” I was so thrown off by her outburst that I could only stand there and gape at her.
“Okay. The name is Blakely, not Blake. Though if I’m being honest, I always wanted to go by my middle name, Winter. My last name is Stewart…”
“Now that’s just too much information. I don’t want your life story, Blake. I want you to stand up for yourself, okay? Let’s try this again. I’m going to insult you by calling you Blake, and you’re going to professionally correct me in a way that creates a clear boundary while being polite. Okay?”
What the fuck kind of job did I get myself into? “Okay?” I replied, not sure of what she wanted.
Rose lifted up her hands and rubbed her temples for a moment before fixing her expression. “And scene,” she replied while shaking her shoulders and rolling her neck. “Your new name is Blake. Blakely is a mouthful, yeah?”
“I prefer to go by Blakely, ma’am,” I replied with a smile, hoping the blatant confusion I felt wasn’t evident on my face.
“That was seriously terrible, Blakely. But I suppose that’ll do for now. Decker was right, you’re going to need a lot of help,” she said while scribbling on her notepad.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked before sitting down in a white plastic chair that squeaked the moment my ass landed in it. “I thought I was coming here for a job?”
“Did Decker tell you how we know each other?” she asked with a flirty smile, and against my better judgment, my mind went back to how damn beautiful Rose was. The moment those words left her lips, I imagined them fucking in my brand new bedroom. Oh God, make it stop.
“N-no, he didn’t,” I replied before twisting my fingers in my lap.
“Stop fidgeting, Blake.”
“It’s Blakely,” I replied before quickly adding, “ma’am.”
“Good girl. You’re teachable. I can work with this,” she mumbled, mostly to herself before scratching more notes on her notebook. I watched in curiosity as she began doodling a penis on the edge of the paper. “I’m Decker’s life coach. He mentioned you in our weekly session, and I suggested you start working here,” she replied.
“You’re a life coach and run a bar?” I asked. I felt my brows furrow.
“I’m also a dog walker on Tuesdays.”
“I think I’m just going to…” my voice trailed off as I stood up, trying to make a quick escape. This lady was insane.
“Sit back down, Blakely,” Rose’s voice ordered. It was powerful yet polite. Something told me this woman always got what she wanted. I stayed hovering over my plastic seat for a moment longer in indecision before finally planting my ass down once more on the squeaky chair.
“Decker just said you could use my help and a job. I run a damn good establishment with a side of mentorship. I make all my employees go through my life course, and you’ll be no different. It’s not for everyone, but I think you might actually like it. Plus, I have an ice cream machine, and you get one free cone a day. I mean, I’m basically serving happiness up on a silver platter here, girl!”
My mouth dropped open. “I mean, ice cream is great and all, but I just want a job,” I replied.
“Why do you want a job?” she snarked back, leaning forward over her desk with her breasts hanging out as she tilted her head to the side to stare at me. I breathed in, noting that her office smelled like the worst combination of incense on the planet. It was like a hippie threw up in here during an orgy.
“I don’t know. For independence. So I can save up and take care of myself.” If this was a job interview, it was officially the weirdest one I’d ever had.
“How remarkably boring,” Rose replied while shaking her head. “You’re young! You worry too much.” Worrying was in my blood. I was conditioned to care, trained to obsess over where my next meal would come from or what asshole Mama was bringing home that night.
I gritted my teeth. Who the hell was this bitch? She didn’t know me, didn’t know my fucking life. She took one look at me, heard what Decker had to say, and created her own narrative. I was getting really tired of people and their assumptions. “I had to grow up at a young age,” I seethed.
“That’s not an excuse to be so serious,” she replied with a wave of her hand.
“It’s not an excuse, it’s my fucking life. For most teenagers, a job might just be something for extra spending money, but for me? It’s survival. So if you think you can hire me on and feel good about yourself for teaching me some bullshit, free-spirited lesson on going with the flow, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
I clasped my hand over my lips when I realized the toxic words had left my mouth. I stared at Rose as her smile grew wider. She clutched her heart for a beat before yanking open one of her desk drawers. Pulling out a tanktop, she tossed it to me before speaking. “Monica will give you your schedule. I think this was a beautiful breakthrough, Blakely. Thanks for sharing your higher self’s journey with me.” She then had the fucking audacity to bow with her hands clasped at her chest in a prayer pose. “I’ll see you Saturday for our next session. Your task for the week is to tell me what job you actually want. If you come back with nothing to say, don’t bother coming back to work at all. See you then!”
I grabbed the shirt and stood up. I was going to kill Decker for getting me this job. I already knew that he definitely couldn’t be trusted, but this solidified that. I didn’t need a damn life coach. I just needed cash. I needed out of Lance’s loft. I needed…
Maybe I didn’t know what I needed anymore. Whatever it was, I doubted I would find it here.
5
Blakely
When I got home after my eight hour shift, I was a sweaty mess, my tight, white tank stuck to my body like a second skin and showing off a good portion of my stomach. Work was a beating. Monica trained me well, but the second the dinner rush arrived, I was on my own.
For the most part, it was a fast-paced but easy job. Only a handful of customers leered. I quickly realized that the tank top was less for show and more to keep cool. The barbecue pits outside were hot as hell, and after my fourth trip to get food, I found myself hiding in the walk-in freezer with a few of the other servers for a ten minute break.
Lance texted me two hours ago, telling me to call him when I got off so he could walk me home, but I pretended not to see it. I was still mad at Decker for setting me up with his fucking life coach, and I didn’t trust myself not to tell Lance that his best friend was an asshole. It wouldn’t be worth it, and besides, something told me Lance already knew.
When I opened the door, I was s
urprised to see Lance and Decker sitting shirtless in the living room and screaming at the television, Xbox controls in their hands. They didn’t notice me at first, so I took a casual opportunity to stare at Decker. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, showing off a delicious set of six pack abs and tanned skin. I almost had to remind myself that I was pissed at him.
“You’re home!” Lance yelled in greeting while holding his controller up. He was hitting every damn button on the thing. My brother didn’t dare pull his eyes from the screen, too engrossed in whatever game they were playing. It looked like the typical guys’ night. A couple of empty beer bottles and snacks littered the coffee table, and I saw an empty pizza box in the kitchen. It was the messiest this place had ever been.
I learned really quickly that Lance and Decker were chronically tidy. Not a single dish was ever left in the sink. Not an article of clothing left on the floor. Seeing them now, in their natural element, had me wondering if they kept things clean because they wanted me to feel comfortable. If I was ever okay with mentioning how fucked up my prior living situation had been, I’d let them know that they had nothing to worry about. I couldn’t tell you how many times I found used condom wrappers on the floor at the old trailer.
“Video game night?” I asked. “Should I leave?” For some reason, this felt like I was encroaching on a ritual of sorts.
“No, we’re almost done!” Lance yelled before blowing up a car on the video game. He did a quick fist pump to the ceiling before attacking his controller again, never once tearing his eyes from the screen. I laughed.
Unlike Lance, Decker glanced at me with disinterest, then quickly did a double take. His mouth dropped open in shock when he saw what I was wearing. It’s like I could feel his heady gaze, trailing up and down my body. It was hot. It was wrong. His distraction led to his demise though. Lance killed him in whatever shooting game they were playing, making my brother scream and dance in his spot on the couch while Decker cursed.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Decker asked as Lance reached forward to grab his beer on the coffee table and take a swig.
“You should know! You’re the one that got me the job. It’s my uniform,” I replied with an eye roll before doing a little spin, showing off the disgusting trail of sweat down my spine in the process. I was walking over to the couch when he grunted and bit his lip. A part of me wanted to dance at the idea of catching him off guard, but I knew the subtle shock was short lived. I wasn’t in the mood to chit chat but figured I should catch up with Lance, so I made my way over to the couch.
“Please tell me you didn’t get my sister a job at a strip club,” Lance replied while looking me up and down with a disgusted scowl, his eyebrows dipped in disapproval.
Scooting over for me to sit, Lance shook his head before setting down his controller. I settled between them before reaching for the open bag of chips. Grabbing a handful, I stuffed them in my mouth with a satisfied moan that made Decker sit up straighter. The bar was so busy I didn’t have time for a lunch break, not that I would have taken it. I was avoiding Rose at all costs.
The one time she did find me, she said, “Slouching is for people that want to hide, Blake. Roll them shoulders back. You are a fearless woman. Roar, damnit!” Then she danced away to chat with Monica.
“I’ve never actually been there. Rose and I meet at the park for our sessions,” Decker said on a swallow, his eyes lingering on the straps of my black bra. He shook his head and started staring at the TV like it had offended him. “But maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Bad idea? You think? About that,” I said while turning to face him, trying to ignore his rippled abs fully on display. I was so close I could lick them if I wanted to. But I totally didn’t. Random licking would go against the grieving daughter vibes I’d been sulking in all week. It wasn’t fair, really. The man had more muscle than my ex-boyfriend’s classic car. “I don’t appreciate being blind-sided by Rose. I wanted a job, not a fucking life coach. Why do you even have a life coach?” I asked.
Decker smiled, and damn if I didn’t notice the dimple on his cheek and the strong lines of his face. I hated how sexy he looked. “Rose saw me sitting alone in a coffee shop one day and sat down with me. Within an hour, she told me that she was my new life coach and that I needed her help. Her methods are weird, but I’ve gotten some good stories out of it. I told her about you, and she said she’d take you under her wing. I don’t see the problem.”
“The problem,” I began, “is that she’s bat shit crazy.”
“She’s not crazy. She’s eccentric.”
“Says the man sipping the Kool-Aid,” I snapped back with a grin.
Beside me, Lance chuckled before taking another sip of his beer. I was feeling bold, so I grabbed Decker’s half-full bottle and lifted it up to my lips, prepared to take a swig. Naturally, the asshole swiped it from me with a frown before chugging it.
“No underaged drinking, punk,” he replied with a hiss once his bottle was empty. I watched him wipe his lips with the back of his hand and found myself licking my own. His eyes zeroed in on the movement, and a smirk erupted on his face. Asshole. I needed to somehow figure out how to control my body’s response to this guy.
“My mama used to send me to the liquor store to buy her shit. Got me a fake ID for the sole purpose of sending me on beer runs when she had friends over. I think I can handle a swig of your piss warm drink,” I replied with a roll of my eyes, then nearly slapped myself when I heard Lance’s shocked gasp.
“Wait, what?” Lance asked before grabbing my wrist, forcing me to turn and face him fully. His blue eyes were laced with concern, and I watched all playfulness flee his body in one fell swoop.
I felt Decker go still in anticipation. Fuck. I was supposed to be telling the pretty little lies that made Mama sound like the good, wholesome woman Lance wanted her to be. The magic illusion I’d been weaving all week was fading, leaving a man with nothing but a dead rabbit in his hat behind.
“Kidding,” I replied with a forced grin, hating myself a little bit for letting the truth slip out so fast. Keeping the reality of Mama’s life from Lance was proving to be harder than I’d originally expected. I quickly tried to salvage the situation. “She didn’t do that.” I was rushing my words out like an idiot.
Lance stared at me for a moment, his blue eyes assessing me. It was the first time I truly felt he was seeing me and not the woman that made us both. “Right,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he shook his head. “You owe me a story.”
I nodded, wracking my brain for what else I could tell him. “Oh, umm,” I began. I was so caught off guard that I didn’t know what to say. It suddenly felt like I had the world on my shoulders. Painting the pleasant picture for Lance was weighing me down, and I didn’t like it.
I felt a hand brush against my back. Decker. For some reason, that little touch bolstered me enough to come up with what I knew Lance needed to hear. “Mama liked to go line dancing. She was always learning new steps. Her boots had holes in them from all her spinning on the dance floor. She had a shrine to George Strait and would kiss his photo every night before bed.”
Lance softened, his earlier reservations gone. “We should go dancing some time,” he said in a soft voice, full of hope and kindness.
“I’d love that,” I lied. I never wanted to step foot in a dance club again. Last time I went, one of Mama’s men felt me up. It made me sick to think of it.
“Okay, well, I’m going to sleep. Y’all don’t stay up too late killing one another and drinking cheap beer. Rose wants me to come in an hour early tomorrow for tabletop meditation. That can’t be sanitary, right? Sitting on the tables at her restaurant while moaning ommmm?” I turned to look at Decker, expecting him to have a satisfied smirk on his face, but instead, he looked conflicted.
“Definitely not sanitary. I want to meet this woman,” Lance said with a chuckle. I took his lightheartedness and ran with it.
Standing up, I brushed the leftover Chee
to dust on my legs, watching the orange powder cling to the sweat there. “Careful what you wish for. She’ll appoint herself as your life coach, too,” I said. “Good night.”
“Sounds like fun. Good night!” Lance called before tossing me a genuine smile, all worry from my minor slip up seemingly forgotten.
“Night,” I replied with a small smile, feeling bad for lying to him but also thankful I managed to salvage the conversation.
I walked to my room, the weight of my day making my feet feel like lead. And the moment my fingers touched my door knob, I felt a heated presence at my back.
Decker.
It figured he’d follow after me. I didn’t bother to spin around. I couldn’t trust myself to keep up my angry attitude toward him while he was shirtless. Instead, I opened the door and walked inside, not caring whether he followed me or not.
“Can I help you?” I asked when I heard my door click shut. I stood at my dresser and took my hair down from its tight bun while staring at my reflection. I could see him behind me, appraising me with an expression I couldn’t quite understand.
“You weren’t lying, were you,” he stated. It didn’t feel like a question. He dropped honesty at my feet like a lead balloon.
“Nope.”
“Why do you lie to Lance?”
I spun around, my hair a wild mess around my face. I stared at Decker for a beat longer than what was appropriate. His chest moved up and down methodically with each breath, and my eyes once again traveled to the way his sweats hung low on his body. Decker Harris was distracting as hell.
“You know what my mama told me when I asked why she gave him up?” I asked. “She said she wanted him to have a better life. She said he deserved more than what she could offer. I guess even now I’m doing her bidding. He wants to know that version of her, and I don’t want to ruin the illusion. Mama wasn’t a doting mother. She was selfish and self-absorbed and cruel. But…”
“But what?” Decker asked while taking a step closer to me. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Another step and we’d be touching.