by J. Bengtsson
Finally, the reply came—a thumbs-up emoji.
I had to laugh. I knew how this probably looked to him. A young guy captivated by a girl. Of course he’d see this as a passing phase. A sowing of oats. But he didn’t understand the scope of the connection we’d made. He didn’t know that for maybe the first time in my life, I had complete clarity. It was hard to explain how I knew; I just did. Jess and Noah would be a part of my life forever.
I’d won the girl over with my charm, my voice, and my newfound commitment to her son. Now I needed to dig deep. Make her see that I was a keeper. That I would do anything for her.
I looked up at the sign and sighed.
“Okay, I’m here,” I said into the phone.
“Good. Now go inside,” Grace replied.
“Is there any other way?”
“Quinn, we talked about this. You’re Goldilocks eating the baby bear’s porridge. We’re not going for too hot or too cold. We’re going for just right. You can’t buy her a car—too hot. You can’t buy her a gumball—too cold. But you can buy her the perfect cup of Starbuck’s joe, now, can’t you?”
“I could, but… you know my rule, Grace. I’ve never stepped inside a Starbucks. It’s a personal decision.”
“I know. But just think how romantic it is to shun your stupid, anti-elitist posturing for the girl you love.”
“Love is a strong word. I like…lots and lots.”
“Whatever. Just go inside, Quinn. I don’t have all day.”
I reached for the door before an alternative popped into my head. “Why can’t I just get her donuts?”
Grace groaned. “It’s like I’m working with an amateur. Listen, Quinn. Donuts are for well-established relationships. They say, ‘I love you so much I don’t care about your ever-expanding waistline.’ Elliott and I have been together for five months now, and I’d nail him in the nuts if he brought me home an apple fritter.”
“Jesus Christ. Who makes these rules?” I grumbled.
“Inside now!” she insisted.
“Fine. I’m hanging up and going in.”
“Is that”—she startled—“the best choice here, Quinn? Do you even know the difference between a grande and a venti, or that a tall is actually a small?”
My head spun with all the information, but one thing was for sure, having Grace in my ear would not help my rising heart rate levels.
“I don’t know any of this, but I’m a grown man. I can figure out a Starbuck’s menu. I’ll call if I need you.”
I could hear her begging for me to reconsider as I hit the red button on my phone. She was being ridiculous. I could do this on my own, and in return, I would wow Jess with my thoughtfulness.
I opened the trendy doors and took my place in line. Grace was right; I had no idea how or what to order. All I knew was to avoid donuts at all costs.
The guy in front of me stepped up to the register. “Yeah, I’d like a venti soy quadruple shot latte with no foam.”
I struggled to keep my eye roll to myself. This guy was why I avoided this place like the plague—these self-righteous hipsters. We get it, dude. You’re extremely important. Now why don’t you go save the world on your own time?
“I can take your order over here,” a barista said, the cheery smile on her face fading fast as she saw me approach. It was clear she recognized me. “Oh, you’re… wow… okay… what can I get for you?”
“I’m a virgin.”
“I see.” Her smile instantly returned. “You’ve come to the right register.”
“I knew I could count on you, Debbie,” I said, snagging her name from the tag on her apron. “I’m looking for the perfect drink to bring to my… let’s just say, experienced… girlfriend.”
She held up a hand. “Say no more. I know what you need. There’s the vanilla latte with toasted white mocha and vanilla sweet cold foam. Total crowd pleaser, that one. Or if she’s feeling a little frisky, she might prefer the non-fat, two-pump, peppermint frappuccino topped with double whip and cocoa powder.”
I was momentarily stunned with the liquid monstrosities she was suggesting. “No, I think you misunderstood me, Debbie. My girlfriend is a real woman, not Mrs. Claus.”
We had a good chuckle together over that. Were we bonding? I think we were.
“Oh, I know who this drink is for. Everyone does. And trust me, you can’t go wrong with either option. Besides, Jess doesn’t seem like a picky woman.”
My eyes widened. The way she said it made it seem like she was actually acquainted with Jess. Which wouldn’t be all that much of a coincidence, given this was the closest Starbucks to her place. Now, normally I wasn’t into strangers knowing my business, but in this specific situation, I wasn’t above using Debbie’s intel to my advantage. “You know her?”
“I don’t know her know her, but she comes in here often enough that I know of her. Right after the whole Jesserella thing hit, I even asked her if she was the Jess. She spit her coffee all over the counter.”
“That sounds like her.” I laughed. “What did she say to that?”
“She made some excuse, but I couldn’t shake the thought that it might be her, and then yesterday the two of you were all over the place and I was pretty damn proud of myself.”
“I’m sure you were. Well, Debbie, you’ve been a wealth of information. Thanks to your patience, I think I’m ready to take that next step.”
“Are you sure? I want you to feel comfortable with the process.”
“I’m sure. Give me that toasted latte thingy. Now, about the pastries.”
Jess opened the door and flung herself into my arms, almost making me drop the coffee and bakery items I’d brought.
“Whoa. If this is how food delivery guys get greeted, sign me up.”
“Right—because those guys pull way more chicks than the rock star.”
“I wouldn’t know, because since becoming a rock star—in training—I’ve only had one.”
“Your loss. I’ve banged the whole Door Dash fleet.”
I pushed my way in. “You’re lucky I’m not a jealous guy. Debbie says hi, by the way.”
“Debbie?”
“The barista you spit all over last week.”
“Oh, Debbie.” Jess lengthened the name for comic effect.
I set the coffee on the table and handed her a bag. “I brought you a cake pop.”
“A cake pop?” She giggled. “What am I, ten?”
“Debbie said it was the most popular bakery item.”
“Yes. If you’re ten.”
“You want it or not? Because otherwise I’ll eat it, and I’ve already consumed three.”
“I want it. Geez. Back off, cake pop pusher!”
I laughed, sweeping her into my arms. “You’re a firecracker today, aren’t you?”
“You’ve spent a whole two days with me. How do you know I’m not a firecracker every day?”
My lips dipped into the hollows of her perfect neck. She smelled of sweet pineapple. I could easily devour her.
Reaching around and squeezing her ass, I said. “I’m counting on it.”
Thirty minutes later we were getting dressed again—and the coffee was cold.
“I’m starting to see a pattern here,” Jess said, hooking her bra.
I pulled on my jeans. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Our relationship’s like eighty-two percent sex and eighteen percent cake pop.”
“And that’s a problem how?”
“I mean, do you think maybe we should attempt to do something else besides humping each other today?”
I sighed, long and heavy. “Are you trying to hurt me?”
She laughed. “I suppose we could stay here and talk about feelings.”
“Oh lord, have mercy. Debbie warned me about this.”
“Debbie seems to have made a huge impression on your life.”
“If she was like twenty years younger… you’d have a problem.”
We headed back into the kitchen whe
re Jess was rewarming her fluffy fairy coffee drink when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Tucker.
The Cliff Rehab in Malibu can take Jess’s father as part of their community outreach program.
What does that mean?
It means you can hold on to that money you don’t yet have.
I stared at my phone, shocked. How’d you manage that?
These private facilities are “encouraged” to take in county patients if they have an open bed. But they get paid county compensation too so most of these places officially have no beds open, even when they do.
Well hell, Tucker, you’re a magician.
Nothing so exciting. Called in a favor.
You’ve got some powerful friends.
It’s not about powerful friends. It’s about powerful secrets.
Damn. Tucker was impressive. Dangling threats seemed to be the name of the game in Hollywood, and Tucker was at the top of the game. Really, I didn’t care how he got the job done, just that he did it. Now Jess would have one less thing to worry about and maybe, just maybe, we could nudge our ‘sex to cake pop’ ratio up a bit.
I’m sending all the paperwork to you to pass on to Jess. He can move in tomorrow.
Thanks. I owe you one big-time.
I set the phone down and smiled at Jess.
She was halfway through the cake pop.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked, catching on to my excitement and smiling herself.
“You’re going to love me.”
“Is that a dare?”
“No, Jess, it’s a promise.”
24
Jess: All In
I was used to fighting for everything I got. It was just the way things were done in my world, and I accepted it as fact. So, when Quinn told me what he’d done for my father—for me—I really wasn’t sure how to react.
There were tears. There were thanks. There was laughter. And there were kisses. Lots of them. Thanks to this man, I had a real shot at getting my father back. If this was what it felt like for people to care and follow up, then I wanted more of it in my life. I wanted Noah to experience its wonders.
Quinn’s phone rang. He checked the sender before sending it to voicemail. He’d been doing that a lot today. Quinn was a busy guy, and it wasn’t lost on me that he’d forsaken everything to spend the day with me.
“More business?” I asked.
“Yes. Sorry. We’re putting the finishing touches on our album. It’s been hectic. Plus Tucker is trying to get us a tour this fall, but it’s a monumental task with it already being July. Things are already booked up, so now it’s looking like it might not happen until next year, which totally sucks.”
All I heard was—I’ll be around many more months. Isn’t that awesome?
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
“It is in the sense that tours help promote albums, so if we aren’t touring, then is it smart to release the album without one? But at the same time, Sketch Monsters has buzz now, so waiting is dangerous.”
“Oh. I get it.”
“Sometimes I wonder if people are just excited by the idea of us, you know. You’ve got the Next in Line stuff and my brother’s awesomeness and Jesserella’s fandom. We generate a lot of chatter. But will people want to buy our music if they view us as a gimmick?”
“You’re no gimmick. The new single is everywhere. How can you fail?”
“You’d be surprised how fast things can fall apart in the music world. I feel like we’re at this place where we’re either going to take off or disappear. And the odds seem fifty-fifty. I just worry because what am I going to do without this? This is the biggest opportunity of my life. If it fails, I won’t get another shot.”
“But it’s hardly been enough time. Sketch Monsters just formed.”
“I know. Maybe it just feels slow. Not sure what I was expecting. Tucker made it seem like we would shoot into the sky strapped on the back of a rocket, but it feels more like we’re tooling around town in a Prius. At this speed, I’ll never catch up to Jake.”
His admission surprised me. Was that what he was trying to do? Overtake his world-famous brother?
“I see your face, Jess. And yes, I know it’s wishful thinking.”
“Not wishful thinking, but Jake has a big head start. Do you think you’re setting yourself up to fail by making him your barometer of success?”
“Of course I am, but it plays into my whole ‘not being seen’ theme, see. I can never be totally happy with my success unless I’m standing on stage next to Jake as equals.”
Quinn’s phone rang again. He flipped it over on the table as if he were planning to ignore the call when his eyes widened and he hastily answered it.
“Hello?”
I watched as the stress lines in his forehead disappeared, replaced with a genuine smile. “When? Where? Okay. I’ll be there.”
He hung up and looked at me. “Get up. We’re going out.”
“Where to?” I asked, already out of my seat and grabbing for my purse.
“My big brother, Keith, is about to become a daddy.”
I put my purse on the table and slid back onto the chair. “That’s really awesome, but, uh… no flippin’ way.”
“What do you mean no way?”
“I’m not going to the hospital, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“That is what I’m suggesting. Why not?”
“Why not?” I repeated. So many reasons. Where to start? “Because I can’t show up at a family function. They don’t know me. And to the birth of a little McKallister? No. Just no.”
“Uh-huh.” He smiled, grabbing my arm and pulling me off my seat. “Let’s go, Getaway Girl.”
“Quinn, I swear to god.”
“Jess, do you ever want to have sex with me again?”
I stopped, struggling to address his ludicrous threat. “Hold up, Romeo. Are you suggesting that you’re going to withhold sex from me if I don’t go with you?”
“Maybe.”
My eyes narrowed. Oh, he wanted to play, did he? Let’s go. “I have an eight-year-old kid, Quinn. I can assure you, other than the occasional Door Dash guy, men are not knocking down my door. I’ve been forced to make… shall we say… provisions.”
He raised a brow. “Provisions, you say?”
“Provisions.” I nodded. “Silent Bob, my battery-operated boyfriend. And you can be sure he doesn’t withhold anything from me.”
“Wow, Jess. Please be sure to share that happy tidbit with my mother when you meet her today,” Quinn said, chuckling as he continued to manhandle me. “Come on. Where’s that fighting spirit?”
“Dead. Totally dead.”
“Jess.” He eyed me. “I’m proud of you. I want to show you off to my family. They’ll love you.”
I scoffed. “I seriously doubt that.”
“Because you believe what you’ve read about us.”
“No, because I make a living exploiting your family. I hardly think that makes me a loveable character for them to root for.”
“It makes you interesting. We like interesting.”
“Oh yes, I can imagine I’d be very interesting. Should I bring Noah along? My dad, maybe? He’d add a little flavor.”
Quinn lifted me from my seat, his arm circling around my waist. “Whatever floats your boat, babe.”
“I can’t.” I pulled away from him. “This is a private family moment. I would be intruding on that.”
He stared at me. “I accompanied you to a private family moment.”
“Exactly. And my father was a disaster.”
“No, he wasn’t. Please, Jess. I want you with me. We’ve struggled so much as a family, and it’s these little wonders that bring us together and make us whole. There is no better time to introduce my girlfriend than right now.”
“That’s what you think I am? Your girlfriend?”
“It’s not what I think. It’s what I know.”
“After three days together?”
<
br /> “It hasn’t been three days for me.”
The things he said, the way he said them. Quinn made me feel special in a way I never had before. Was this what it was like to be in a healthy relationship?
“It hasn’t been three days for me, either,” I admitted.
“Then it’s settled. You’re my girlfriend, and you’re coming to meet my family.”
“I don’t remember settling anything,” I protested. “You’re very persistent, aren’t you?”
“I know what I want.”
“And Noah? Can you handle all that? Don’t just be nice, Quinn. Really, truly think about it. I won’t be mad, just a little maybe, if you decide dating a woman with a kid isn’t for you.”
“I have thought about it.”
“For twenty-four whole hours,” I interrupted.
He nodded. “Yes, this whole thing has been quick. I get that. But I’m not like most guys, Jess. I don’t bond easily. So, when I find someone like you—or like Debbie—I don’t take those connections lightly. You know, after the whole Next in Line fiasco, my dad accused me of not being a finisher. He said I walked away from things right when I got to the good part. I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to pull out of life anymore. Especially not now when I have a buzzy band. A record deal. The girl of my dreams. A barista to die for. And a cool little dude who eats science. Noah… he’s not a burden, Jess. He’s a bonus.”
I reached for my purse.
I was all in.
25
Jess: Grape Soda
At my insistence, Quinn prepared his clan for my arrival. Nothing could be worse than bringing a newbie girlfriend unannounced to an intimate family gathering, except maybe bringing a newbie girlfriend unannounced to an intimate family gathering—with a child in tow. And not just any child, but the shed-jumping, celebrity-pimping Noah Ledger.
We stopped in front of the glass doors to the waiting room, and I bent down to address my son. “Listen up,” I said, tilting Noah’s head toward me to get his attention. Bringing him to the hospital with us wasn’t really a choice, nor was leaving him at his after-school program after seven p.m. Knowing that babies were notoriously late to the party, we stopped at his school and pulled him out of his last hour of instruction before heading here.