On the Rocks (Kingston Brothers Book 1)

by Isabel Lucero

  I look back at London who’s killing me with that dress, as she watches her friends with her hand placed over her heart. I love that she loves them so much.

  She turns and says something to Hunter before she gets up and goes and gives Jon a hug. I stand from my table and go say hi as well.

  “Happy birthday, man,” I tell Jon. He gives me a hug, still overcome with emotion.

  “Thank you. I can’t believe this. I was pissed off all day. All week, really. I thought everyone forgot.” He smiles and wipes at his right eye. “But I’m just so lucky.”

  He nuzzles into Daniel’s chest as Daniel smiles ear to ear. “Like I’d be stupid enough to forget. Let’s go say hi to more people.”

  They move on and leave me and London standing together. She looks at me, giving me what she thinks is a sly once-over, but I keep my eyes trained on her the whole time she looks me up and down, and notice the tip of her pink tongue move across her bottom lip.

  “Not too bad, huh?”

  Her eyes flicker up, looking into mine. “I was admiring the suit.”

  “Right. Well, I have to admit, you in that dress takes my breath away. I mean, what are you trying to do to me here?”

  She runs her hands over her hips and down the sides of the dress. “What? It’s a dress.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” I reply, trying not to look too long at every curve of her body.

  A rosy pink blush washes into her cheeks as she grins. “Well, thank you. You look pretty good, too.”

  “See, is it so hard to give me a compliment?” I say with a teasing smile.

  She makes a face at me and then gazes around the room. “Did you notice that table of presents?”

  “I did. He’s gonna be pretty happy.”

  “Did you end up finding a gift for him?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, are you gonna tell me what it is?”

  “I got him his own mini bar set. Some shakers, glasses, tongs, strainers, martini glasses, stuff like that. Some of it’s personalized with his initials, and I made sure to print out the recipes for some of his favorite drinks so he can make them at home.”

  “Aww. That’s really nice of you.” She pauses. “Wait. You said personalized? How’d you get stuff personalized the same day?”

  I bite down on my lip as a smile creeps across my face. “Well, I may have already had it.”

  “What? Then why did you say you needed help?”

  I slip my hands in my pockets. “I just wanted an excuse to talk to you. Is that so bad?”

  She looks to the side before facing me again. “I don’t know. I guess not.”

  I notice her gaze traveling to her right again, and I’m sure she’s looking at Hunter, so I excuse myself.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you around. Save me a dance?” Before she can answer, I walk away and head toward the buffet line. Once I have my plate filled, I go back to my seat and find Midge sitting in the chair next to mine, already chowing down.

  “Hey, man,” she says between bites. “Think you can eye-fuck my friend any harder or what?”

  “What? I wasn’t eye-fucking her. Okay, I was, but that was five minutes ago.”

  Midge laughs. “Whatever.”

  “What about you and Sky, what happened there?”

  “About what you think.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What? Like I’m gonna turn down sleeping with Sky, the lead fucking singer of a band that’s about to be huge? I think not, sir. I did it, I don’t regret it, and it’s something I’ll think about for many days to come.”

  “Just days, huh?”

  She shrugs. “Until someone better comes along.”

  “You’re crazy, Midge, but I fucking love you.”

  She chuckles and we both go about eating our food and talking about random things until she brings up the topic I figured was coming sooner or later.

  “She likes you, you know.”

  I don’t have to ask who she’s talking about. “Sometimes I think she does. Sometimes I wonder why she’s still sitting next to him and not me.”

  “Look, you already know how us girls talk. Me and London are close. She really likes you. She was stupid. You both were. Why y’all didn’t talk about what sleeping together meant, I don’t know, but she thought you might not be interested in a relationship.”

  “Because I haven’t been in one? That’s just because I hadn’t found the woman I wanted to be in a relationship with. Not because I’m against them.”

  “You’re willing to be committed to her? Not to sound too fatherly or anything.”

  “I think me and London need to have another talk. I’m aware that I have issues with commitment, but it’s not because I want to whore around. I’m afraid to get too close to someone and then have something happen. You know?”

  She’s quiet for a beat. “Is this because of your parents?”

  “Yeah.”

  She stares at me with a seriousness that’s rare with her. “You need to tell her.”

  I look at London who glances up from her plate and right into my eyes.

  “You wanna help me arrange a date?”

  “Yes!”

  I peel my eyes away from London and look at Midge. “Okay. Let’s plan.”

  A week after Jon’s birthday, I’m contemplating whether or not I should go to the bar tonight. I didn’t go on Wednesday, much to Midge’s dismay, but Hunter and I had a date that night. I try not to think that he planned it on that day on purpose, but instead because that was the day the theater was showing classic movies. Not that I care too much about classic movies, but it was a date, so I guess I can’t complain.

  My phone rings from my bedroom where I have it plugged in, so I get off the couch and rush down the hall to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Bridgey.”

  My mom’s voice surprises me since I didn’t pay attention to the screen before I answered, but her nickname for me takes me back to my childhood. London Bridge was an obvious nickname, and that turned into Bridgey. I hated it when I was a kid, but I’ve grown used to it.

  “Mom? You okay?”

  “Yes, of course. Can’t I call my baby girl?”

  I sit down on the bed. “Yeah, I just haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  “Well, you haven’t called me either.”

  I take a breath. “I know. I’ve just been busy.”

  “Too busy for your old mom, huh?” She says it with a small laugh, but I’m sure she’s hurt over it.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I know. I know you’re a busy girl. Tell me what’s been going on.”

  Mine and my mom’s relationship is complicated. Growing up, when her and my dad were together, we were pretty close. When their relationship fell apart, I was caught up in the rubble and used in their arguments. My mom would tell my dad that his affair meant he was cheating on our family and didn’t care about me. He would argue that it wasn’t like that, but then again, he moved on and seemingly forgot about me. For years, I blamed him. He was, after all, the one who had an affair. He was the one who told my mom he didn’t love her anymore and broke her so much that she moved us to a different state to get away from him.

  However, years later, I found out he tried getting in touch with me. He didn’t want to cut both of us out of his life, just her. But my mom led me to believe otherwise. She wanted me to believe he found a new family and wanted nothing to do with us. Nothing to do with me. When I found the letters he had been sending me, mine and my mom’s relationship fractured. We haven’t been able to repair it fully since.

  “Just the usual, Mom.”

  Her heavy breath lets me know she’s disappointed I won’t open up more. “Well, okay. You still dating that boy? What was his name again? Hank?”

  “Hunter. Yeah, we’re still together.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about that.”

  I sigh again. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

&n
bsp; She’s silent for a long time before she says anything again. “London, we can’t keep this up. I apologized a hundred times. I was just so angry, and I pulled you into something that you shouldn’t have been in.”

  “Mom, you lied to me for years. I was twenty-one when I found those letters. For four years I thought Dad hated me. I thought he wanted nothing to do with me. You let me believe that. You fed me those lies by the spoonful. To make it worse, when I finally found out the truth and tracked him down, he was dying. Dying!” I start crying into the phone. Tears run down my cheeks as my heart pounds in my chest. “You deprived me of his final years. I missed out on so much because of your lies. Because you were determined to be bitter.”

  Mom’s sobs reach my ears, and a sigh of frustration crosses my lips. “He treated me like shit, London. You don’t know the half of it. The affair was one thing, but for years he kept me dependent on him. He verbally abused me any chance he got and made me feel like he was the only one who’d love me. I was his little puppet and then he decided to leave me! I was devastated and broken. I was terrified you’d want to stay with him. I couldn’t imagine being alone at that time, because I was afraid I’d lose the will to live. You kept me alive, Bridgey. I’m sorry for lying to you. If I had known your father was sick, I would’ve told you, but I had no idea. I did my best to forget him.”

  I shake my head as I angrily swipe the tears from cheeks. “Whatever. We can’t go back in time. There’s nothing you can do to change anything. He cheated on you and you cheated me out of a father. At least I was able to see him for a few days before he died, right?” I say, my tone bitter.

  “Bridgey.” Her voice breaks.

  “It’s fine, Mom. Look, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Will you?”

  “I will.”

  I hang up the phone and fall into the fetal position and cry into my pillow. Pennywise hops onto the bed and curls into my stomach as I sob.

  Mom moved back to Philly when my dad died. I guess she felt she could go back since he wasn’t there anymore.

  I end up crying myself to sleep and wake up an hour later when my phone dings loudly next to my ear.

  It’s a text from Midge asking if I’ll be at the bar. I type out a quick yes, because the need to have a couple strong drinks is hitting hard now.

  After a long, hot shower, I put on a pair of ripped jeans, an oversized gray sweatshirt, and a pair of Toms. My wet hair goes into a messy bun, and then I apply mascara and lip gloss and that’s where my effort stops.

  Why try to look pretty when I feel like shit on the inside?

  The second London walks in, I can tell something’s wrong. Her eyes lack the usual brightness, and her face is drawn and free of her usual glow. I instantly want to go to her and wrap my arms around her until she feels better.

  I watch as Midge says something to her as they make their way to the bar. London gives a half smile as she nods, and I’m grateful that at least Midge is there for her.

  “Ladies,” I say as they settle into their seats.

  London pulls her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt and keeps her eyes downcast. I look to Midge and raise my brows in question. She gives me a quick shake of her head, but I don’t know what that means.

  “Tequila,” Midge states. “Two shots.”

  “Four,” London says, raising her head.

  Midge’s eyebrows disappear under her bangs. “You heard the lady.”

  I line up four shot glasses and expertly pour the liquid into each one without spilling a drop.

  “You want one?” London asks me. “I’m buying.”

  “No. I’m buying,” Midge says. “And I guess I’ll buy you one.”

  I give them a crooked grin. “Maybe later.”

  London shrugs and reaches for the first shot glass. She swallows it down quickly, and Midge hurries and grabs her own.

  “Wait for me.”

  They finish all four in under thirty seconds, and I wonder what kind of night this is going to be. They came in later than usual, since it’s already nine forty-five, but at this rate, they could be drunk within an hour.

  “Drinks?” I question.

  Midge, still making a sour face from the shots, waves me off. “Come back later.”

  I move on and make drinks for my other customers, and only head back to the girls when Midge waves me over.

  “Okay, we’re ready for more.”

  “More shots?”

  “No!” Midge answers vehemently, shaking her head. “I’ll take a margarita, though.”

  “You already know what I want, Royce,” London says, her blue eyes peeking up at me through long lashes. Mischief dances in the depths as she bites down on the corner of her bottom lip.

  I raise a brow. “Coming up.”

  As I go to work on Midge’s margarita, London slips off the stool and heads toward the bathroom. I take the opportunity to ask Midge some questions.

  “What’s going on with her?”

  “She talked to her mom earlier. It’s a whole thing,” she says, swiping her hand through the air. “She had a drink at her place, so she’s gonna be feelin’ pretty good really soon. Just so you know. I’ll let you know when we need to start swapping tequila with water.”

  “Is she okay?”

  Midge frowns. “I think she’s just wanting to forget some things. We can allow her that, as long as she doesn’t cross the line into alcohol poisoning.”

  I want to ask more questions, but it’s probably a conversation I should have with London, and when she’s sober.

  A couple minutes later, London’s back, and her and Midge start talking about some guy Midge went on a date with, so I leave them alone until they need a refill.

  It’s almost midnight by the time I get back to them. Luna was on that end of the bar taking care of things while I was caught up dealing with a group of college kids. They were out celebrating the end of finals, so the bar got crowded fast.

  “Hey, how you guys feelin’?”

  “Oh, I’m feelin’ really good, Royce,” London answers, leaning on her elbows as she moves closer to my side of the bar. “You feel really good, too,” she says before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

  Midge almost spits out her drink, but quickly slaps her hand over her mouth. As London stares at me like she wants to rip my clothes off, I glance at Midge who signals that London’s been drinking. Obviously.

  I step back and ask for a plate of fries from the kitchen before I go back to listen to what drunk London has to say.

  “Remember what we did?” London asks, a smile stretching across her face as her glassy eyes shine under the lights of the bar. “On this bar?” She caresses the wood with her hand as she licks her lips.

  I take a second to quickly glance around and breathe a sigh of relief that nobody is paying attention. Well, Midge is, and her eyes are as wide as saucers right now.

  I get real close to London when I lean over the bar. “I do remember,” I reply softly. “But I don’t think the customers want to know what happened between us here.”

  She giggles. “It was nice though, right?”

  “Really nice,” I say with a smile.

  “I still think about it.”

  I hear more than see Midge get off her seat and walk away.

  “Oh yeah?”

  She nods her head, still smiling. Though we’re close, she moves in even closer and whispers, “I’ve thought about it a couple times late at night. Remembering your words and how you felt…” she moans. “It gets me off.”

  I clear my throat and move back as my cock begins to stir to life. I know she’s drunk, and it’s probably the only reason she’s telling me this, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. You know what they say, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart.

  “I think about you often. Not just at night when I’m alone in bed, but when I’m at work and want to see your face. I think about you when I want to tell you things,” I say.

  “What
kind of things?” she asks, her voice breathy.

  “Things I’m not sure you’re ready to hear.”

  “Bad things?”

  “No. Not bad things.”

  “Tell me.”

  I look into her eyes and smile. “I want you to remember them.”

  She hiccups and then laughs. “I’ll remember. I remember things. I remember all the things you did to me on this bar and in your bed. I remember how you feel between my legs. I remember.”

  Her words run together but I know she’s speaking the truth. I only wish she’d say these things to me when she’s sober.

  “What’re you trying to do to me?” I ask with a short laugh. “I’m at work and you’re trying to get me worked up.”

  She giggles. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “I’m glad you remember, Sunshine. Means I did my job well.”

  “Mm. A job well done indeed.” She takes a sip of her watered-down drink.

  I glance back toward the kitchen and notice the plate of fries sitting under the warmer, so I grab them and place them in front of her.

  “On the house.”

  She grins. “Thanks.”

  I notice Midge making her way toward us so I stand up and take a step back. “Be good,” I say playfully, giving her a wink.

  “What if I want to be bad?”

  I groan. “You’re killing me, Sunshine. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

  “I don’t want a gentleman.”

  “No? What do you want?” I say, asking the same question I asked her the night we had sex. I wait to see if her response will be the same as it was before. I wait to hear that one simple word. You. It doesn’t come.

  The pounding in my head makes me regret waking up. I squeeze my eyes closed and pray for unconsciousness to swallow me whole. Every beat of my heart slams my brain against my skull, and I wince against the throbbing pain.