One Up: Up Series Book 4 Page 4

  Picking up my bottle, she saluted me before turning to resume stocking the bar.

  I left my suitcase downstairs, too eager to go see my girl. I opened the door and heard something crash and a whimper coming from the bedroom. I practically ran that direction.

  Rounding the corner, I froze in the doorway.

  I blinked and watched, momentarily stunned, as my best friend’s bare ass flexed as he rutted into… someone. It couldn’t be my girlfriend; she’d never let him fuck her, especially like that. It took us almost six months before she agreed to have sex. And then, she insisted on slow and easy, not like they were right now, hard against a wall.

  No. This… this couldn’t be her.

  Who the hell did he bring in my bedroom to fuck?

  He was otherwise fully clothed. I couldn’t see anything of whoever she was, except for a leg wrapped around his waist… a leg with shoes that looked a lot like the Chucks with the book print I had specially made for Heather for Christmas.

  Still, that could just be coincidence.

  “Has he ever fucked you like this?”

  “No,” a woman’s voice whimpered.

  “Who fucks you hard against the wall, huh? Who fucked you hard all week?”

  “Only you, Kyle.”

  That was unmistakably the voice of my girlfriend.

  Only you? It wasn’t like I never tried.

  All week? We’ve never done it more than once a week.

  That red ale churned in my stomach, so I backed out of the room, unsure of what to do. My instinct was to rip him off her and kill the “fucking tool,” wishing I really had undergone a super-secret gamma-ray study.

  It was a good thing I hadn’t, because the way I felt, half of New Orleans would have been destroyed.

  I had just enough rational thought that I knew to leave, making sure to not slam the door as I did.

  I flew down the stairs and stormed in the bar.

  Startled, Steph dropped a bottle. “Brody, what the –”

  “Did you know?” I grunted through my heavy breathing.

  “Know what?”

  “That Kyle is fucking Heather?” I stomped back and forth. “Did you know? Is that why you called him a fucking tool?”

  Her face softened into something that looked a damn lot like pity. “No, I call him a fucking tool because he seems like the type of guy who would fuck his friend’s girlfriend.” She poured some amber liquid into a short glass and placed it in front of me. “I didn’t know he actually was.”

  I downed the shot without much thought and indicated she pour another.

  She raised her eyebrow. “One more, Brody, but that’s it.”

  I downed it just as quickly as the first.

  “I gotta get out of here. When that fucking backstabbing asshole and his fuck buddy come down, will you not mention I was here?”

  She smiled tightly. “Sure thing, Brodes.”

  I grabbed my suitcase, unsure what I was going to do.

  Those brown eyes with flakes of gold flashed into my consciousness. The perfect girl, the one whose name I didn’t know, the one I had to let go, the one I watched walk away from me… the memory of her just made this situation a whole lot shittier.

  Seven

  Kaelyn

  “I wish I was there to celebrate with you, Kae,” Mom crooned on the phone. “I would have loved to see you in action.”

  “I was pretty impressive. The chef loved my idea and was actually excited to create the menu.”

  “The crawfish empanadas sound heavenly. Cajun/Latin fusion should be a big hit.”

  I sighed. “Now we just have to schedule when Daddy can come down and sample it.”

  “Why does he even care? He has people to worry about details like that.”

  “Keaton thinks he’s testing me.”

  Her silence was unnerving.

  I grunted. “Just say it, Mom.”

  “Well, Love, I kinda feel like Keaton is right. And since you mentioned what he said, I’m betting you do, too.” She grunted. “Why do you feel the need to impress a man who has never been impressed by anything a woman did, like, ever? Why do you think I divorced him? He thought a woman should be seen and not heard. He was controlling and never supportive of anything I did. In fact, he’s never ever supported you. You should follow in the footsteps of your brother. Cut all ties.”

  “I…”

  I stopped at the curb and tried to think of a response. Both she and Keaton were right, I knew it, but I couldn’t give up on trying to be good enough for Daddy. This would work. I had to believe it would.

  “That sounds too much like giving up. I’m not a quitter.”

  “Yes, because beating your head against a brick wall screams healthy decision.” My mother was the queen of sarcasm.

  I rolled my tongue across my lips. “Are you telling me to quit?”

  “Well… no. But you need to be prepared. I have a feeling he’s going to rip your dreams apart. If you keep doing the same thing, you’re going to get the same result as always, Kae. Isn’t that Einstein’s definition of insanity?”

  “That wasn’t him, that was some twelve-step pamphlet, Mom. Einstein said, ‘An intelligent fool can make things bigger and more complex. It takes a touch of genius and a lot of courage –’”

  “‘…to move in the opposite direction.’ Yeah, that’s it.” She clicked her tongue. “Sounds like great advice. Love, you’re so good at what you do. You don’t need to change that.”

  “I’m not planning to, but I just want Dad to see that I’m more than just a pretty face.”

  “But he never will, Honey. Look, contact your inner genius. Let her tell you that you need to move away from your father. Once you realize that, you’ll be much happier.”

  A powder blue Prius with an Uber sticker in the corner of the windshield stopped in front of me.

  “Gotta go, Mom. My ride is here. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I sat in the car quietly and watched the monstrosity of a hotel get smaller as we pulled away.

  My mother was probably right, but what she didn’t know was I wasn’t trying to impress my father because I needed validation for myself. No. I wanted to show him that he was wrong.

  I sank back in the seat and closed my eyes, remembering how as a child, I knew my mom wasn’t happy with my dad. She stayed because she didn’t want to leave us behind, and she knew Dad would fight her for custody just to be a dick. He really didn’t want the responsibility of us, but he wouldn’t let my mom win. The iron-clad pre-nup she signed would leave her without adequate means to fight for us since Dad would have drawn it out for years just to drain her dry. She married him too young, seduced by his charm and wealth and promises of a fairy-tale life away from the poverty in which she was raised. He was never abusive, and in his own way, he cherished her. He let her work in the casino, but he kept her in a box, only to take her out when he needed something pretty and young on his arm.

  Of course, just like the walking-womanizing cliché he was, there were the other women, too.

  Yeah, I didn’t care for my father too much, it’s true, but I had to play the game of “Daddy’s Little Princess” to keep his interest in me long enough to change his mind.

  He’d see.

  He had to.

  ***

  We pulled up to the place where I was to meet my college roommate, Ruby. Before going to my meeting, I dropped off my stuff, made myself a little more presentable, and changed out of my champagne pants. She suggested we meet after my meeting at a quaint little pub nestled in the Quarter we frequented in college. My immediate guess was she was trying to hook up with the bartender there.

  Ruby was beautiful – tall, long mahogany hair, cappuccino-colored skin, hazel eyes, legs for days – but she had a problem. She was only attracted to men who didn’t seem to be attracted to her. She liked to work for it. The problem? The men she chose were usually married or gay. She was clueless when it came to reading sex
uality clues.

  At 4:00 in the afternoon, the place was dead, so I easily found her parked on a stool putting her push-up bra to work. She was not-so-subtly drooling into whatever fruity-umbrellaed concoction she sipped, staring at a guy with braids tied up in a man bun. I mean he was cute, with his tight, black t-shirt stretched over his impressive pecs, but pretty boys were a dime a dozen. His attention was diverted to something in the back of the bar.

  The bartender, whose nametag said Jacoby, noticed me take the stool next to Ruby and smiled at me with his eyebrows raised.

  “Just a bottle of water, please.” He tapped the surface of the bar and stepped away. I leaned closer to Ruby. “Have you tried just coming out and asking him?”

  She shook her head. “No. He’s been flirting with me.”

  Right. To Ruby, talking equals flirting.

  Jacoby set down my bottle on a bar napkin. “It’s an honor to serve you, Kaelyn.” He leaned on his arms in front of me.

  Ruby huffed and rolled her eyes.

  I flashed a quick, tight smile. Getting recognized was always a crap shoot. So, I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I do Twitter updates for the pub here, and I follow all your accounts to see how it’s done. You are, like, a social media goddess.”

  This time, the smile from me was genuine. “Glad I could inspire you.” I pulled out my phone and opened my Twitter app. “Let me look up what you’ve done. What’s the name of this place?”

  A commotion from the back of the bar drew his attention. He dropped his head and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

  Ruby grunted. “I’d be doing much better if he didn’t need to keep going to check on that stupid guy.”

  That raised my hackles. I hated drama, but it always seemed to find me. I could not get in the middle of another ruckus in a bar. Even if it wasn’t my fault, which it never was, the media would make it out to be.

  “What’s wrong with the guy?”

  “He’s Jacoby’s friend, and best I can tell, it’s something about a breakup.”

  I took a drink from my water bottle. “That sucks. Give the guy a break then.”

  “I’d be more sympathetic if he wasn’t cock blocking me.”

  I laughed. “Wow, that’s kind of heartless of you, isn’t it?”

  She narrowed her eyes and took a long sip of her drink. “It’s been a long time, Kae.”

  “When I was here right after Thanksgiving, you had very loud sex with that guy you insisted was Lenny Kravitz.”

  “Yeah,” she pouted. “Drunk Ruby sees Lenny everywhere. But that was over a month ago.” She cradled her glass in her hands and took another sip. “That’s a long time.”

  “That’s not a long time. Three years is a long time.”

  She slammed her glass on the bar. “You haven’t had sex in three years? God, that’s long enough for your hymen to grow back.”

  Luckily, the bar was empty, because her loud declaration could have been quite embarrassing.

  I turned to see a grinning Jacoby standing next to a guy in jeans and a rumpled black t-shirt. I assumed it was his friend, but the guy was face-down on the bar turned away from me.

  “Ladies, I hate to ask, but can you come stand next to my friend here so that he doesn’t fall while I call him a cab?”

  “No,” his friend slurred, waving his arm awkwardly in Jacoby’s direction. “I tole you… can’t go der. I saw her… wit HIM!”

  I raised my eyebrows at Jacoby.

  “He caught his girlfriend with his best friend,” he whispered.

  “Shit, that sucks.” I walked over and took Jacoby’s place, holding the shoulder of the drunk guy.

  Something was familiar about him.

  “God, now ya evened a-smell like her… the one I never go’ da name of… the one I wached walk away… the one dat prol’ly is da love o’ my life.”

  Bloodshot, unfocused, emerald green eyes turned my direction. Once he focused on me, he stood upright, swaying and teetering, and looked me over.

  The breath was pulled from my lungs, for standing in front of me, in all his wobbly, drunken glory, was the green-eyed perfection I never thought I’d see again, my savior from the plane.

  He cupped my cheeks, speaking clearly this time. “Oh my God. Are you real?”

  Eight

  Brody

  “Are you real?” I heard my voice ask. I couldn’t be sure if I was having a lucid moment or not. Whoever’s face I was holding in my hands couldn’t be hers. Her eyes, they were the same, but why would I imagine her with her hair down and makeup on her face? That’s just fucking weird.

  It came to my mind that I was assaulting some poor, hapless stranger.

  I let go of her face and gripped the bar, turning away and closing my eyes tightly.

  “No. I… must be… drunklucinating.” I felt my mouth not say that right. “I mean hallusterbating.” I shook my head. “You can’t be real.” I swallowed. “That… dat would just be the scherry on top of a shit sundae of a day.” I looked up at the ceiling. “Happy fuckin’ bird-day to me.” My head thudded, not too gently, on the bar. I’m sure it would hurt tomorrow, but right now, my face was too numb to care.

  “Holy shit, it’s his birthday?” a feminine voice I didn’t recognize said.

  “Shhh.”

  “That’s just a whole different level of fucked up, Kay,” the same unknown voice said closer to me.

  I heard far away voices, or maybe they were up close. I mean, I wasn’t exactly fully conscious at the moment, but I couldn’t make out all the conversation. There was something about “guy” and “plane” and “we need to help” before Jacoby’s voice slammed into my consciousness, jolting me out of my brain fuzz.

  “Where do you want to go, Bro? I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here.”

  What he said made me laugh. I felt my little ounce of control slipping.

  “You say go, Bro,” I offered through my uncontrollable guffaws. “That fuckin’ rhymes.”

  “He needs food.”

  Damn, I conjured her smell, then her eyes, and now I’m imagining her voice, too?

  I am sooooo drunk.

  “Do you guys serve anything?”

  “Yeah, I can bring out an order of our house fries.”

  Ooh, I like those.

  “Perfect. Can we take him to a booth in the back corner? We promise to keep him occupied.”

  We? Who is we?

  I heard Jacoby’s voice all muffled and far away, right before I felt his arm around me.

  “Come on, Bro. Let’s get you to the back.” I stood and let him lead me, not opening my eyes.

  I felt the crunching beneath my feet.

  “Get in,” Jacoby said in my ear.

  “What’s on the floor?” the chick with the new voice asked.

  I opened my eyes long enough to see the booth in front of me. “Dat would be da remnants of my phone.”

  I fell forward, catching myself by my hands on the booth. I crawled into it, turning over and leaning against the wall, putting my feet in the seat next to me. My head turned and looked over the table at a blurry, dark-haired woman. She was a very pretty Creole woman, not the woman I had apparently imagined.

  “It kep’ goin’ off in my hand, spissing me off. That stupid bitch askin’ me where I was, tellin’ me she can’t wait ‘til I get home, she’s worried about me. Blah, blah, blah. So I stomped on it.” I heard myself giggle. “Broke it up real nice. Went all ‘Hulk Smash,’ and killed that fuckin’ annoyin’-ass phone.” I laughed again. “Hmm, tequila mus’ be my gamma ray.”

  “I’ll be back in a few with his fries.”

  “Thanks, Jacoby, and we’ll need some water, too.”

  There I was hearing her voice again. Man, I was really drunk.

  I heard some murmuring, and the crunching of someone walking through my phone.

  “Tell me about this girl you let walk away. What was she like.”

  I focused on the woman.

/>   “Oh my God,” I slurred. I slowed down my speech to speak more clearly. “She was beautiful. She had dees big doe eyes, like they filled up her whole eye socket. And dey had dees flakes in dem, like shiny little golden tickets to the chocolate factory hidden in all kin’s of places.” I swallowed. “And she smelled… so. Fuckin’. Good. Like a warm spring day on my family’s farm when all my mom’s stuff was blooming and de strawberries were ripe.”

  A bottle of water appeared in front of me, so I took a sip.

  “And damn, she was so intelligent… just knew, well, everything about all the stuff I talked about. And she wasn’t bored. She was interested. And she was funny… made good jokes, not ones I didn’t get because I hadn’t read the stupid book.” I took a deep breath. “I bet she wouldn’t let my so-called friend fuck her against the wall in my fucking bedroom.”

  I gripped the bottle tightly, spewing half the contents into the air and all over me.

  “And I was planning to ask that skank-whore to marry me tomorrow.” I dug in my pocket, but it was empty. “Oh, I must have lost it, but while I was in L. A., I got my grandmother’s ring from my cousin.” I hung my head. “Dat perfect girl on the plane told me it was ‘classic and elegant with a vintage quality, not too over the top.’ Joke’s on me, though, huh?”

  “You don’t know who she was?”

  “Yeah, I do. She’s the girl I hadda let go because I was a fuckin’ moron who actually thought I had a future with a girlfriend who loved me.” I turned and faced her, placing my feet on the ground and my elbows on the table. “And you want to know the kicker? I popped a boner talking to this girl, and then I felt fucking guilty for lusting after another woman, like I was cheating on her for having thoughts of stripping another woman naked and having her straddle my face, something she never lets me do, all the while this supposedly devoted girlfriend was moving into my apartment and actually straddling my best friend’s barely-average-sized dick.”

  The girl raised her eyebrows and bit her lips, glancing over my shoulder at something.