Luck on the Line (27 page)

The waitress brings more glasses. Sky takes hers and drinks it in two seconds. “Everything tasted so good. Sorry I had to leave. I had an early shift the next day.”

I’m pretty sure she only works night shifts but I don’t say anything. Sometimes we have to let people lie before they can admit something is wrong. Then again, what if they can’t?

She shimmies her way next to Felicity. They start taking selfies. My mom laughs at something Bradley says. Her shoulders are tense. Her eyes keep looking at the door. If she didn’t want to be here, then why would she drag us out here in the first place? Maybe she doesn’t want the person who sent the champagne walking in.

I excuse myself for the bathroom. The women’s line is ridiculously long. Short skirts and six inch heels wobble and try to hide pee dances. I take my place in the line when a hand lands on my shoulder. Startled, I take a step back and my heel stabs the stranger’s foot.

Only it’s not a stranger. It’s James. He winces in pain as I retract my foot. Part of me takes great pleasure in watching him hurt. Part of me reaches out and apologizes.

“This isn’t your scene,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my dad’s anniversary,” I slur. “Where else would we be?”

I take the drink from his hand and knock it back. Scotch, peaty and harsh, fills my belly with the fuzzies.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Stop being sorry. It’s annoying.”

He looks exhausted. “I really have to talk to you, Lucky. I have to explain.”

In his crisp white button down, he radiates under the backlight. He takes my hand gently, like he’s testing the waters. My head and my heart start shooting arrows at each other. I put my hand on his chest. In the backlight, my hand looks like a shadow over his heart. He takes my hand and leads it up to his face. He kisses my wrist, and it sends sparks down my whole body.

“You said you were bad for me.”

Angry James flinches. “Can we talk? Please?”

I nod automatically. I follow him through the crowded club, through some double doors that must be a staff hallway, and through another door. There, in the stairwell, my heels echo with each step.

He gets ready to tell me something, a long story about where he comes from, where he is going. He’s going to tell me why he lied. Technically, not lied, but why he held back on his past. He’s going to tell me the things I wanted to know. His lips are dry, his eyes worried, like he’s sure I’m going to run away.

There’s no guarantee I won’t.

But I don’t want to hear any of that. I grab his face and press my lips to his. I slide my arms around his neck. He gasps, like this was the last thing he was expecting I’d do. But it’s what I’ve wanted to do since our sexy breakfast. His lips give, his tongue searches for mine. I squeeze my eyes shut as if I can freeze how perfect his kiss is.

He picks me up by my waist and presses me against the wall. The noise of the club is a thunderous hum behind the closed door. As if he realizes anyone can just walk in on us, he carries me up the flight of stairs so we’re out of sight. The stairwell is dark except for a flickering light above us.

James presses me against the wall. I reach out and feel the hard bulge in his pants.

“Lucky, I really want to talk to you.”

“Nope.” I say. “Talk later.”

He pulls down my tight black leggings and places his hand against my wetness. He groans into my ear and pushes aside my thong. He rubs circles that send sparks through my veins.

I grind my hips so he can feel my urgency, feel how badly I want him. When his fingers slide in, I gasp loudly. He presses his palm against my center and my knees want to buckle.

“Wait,” I say. He withdraws his hand right away, kissing my temple, my cheek, my mouth.

I undo his fly and yank down his pants. If I take my pants off it’ll eliminate a speedy getaway should someone walk in. So turn around. I press my hands against the wall. He pushes my hair to the side. I press my ass against his rock hard dick.

“Lucky, I don’t—“

I twist my body so I can kiss him. I look deep into his eyes. “James, I want you. I want
you
.”

He presses me hard against the wall, like my words fuel his need. I can feel him enter me from the back. It’s an entirely new sensation. The pressure in my belly tightens. He presses a hand on my lower back, and one around my front. He massages my clit just as he thrusts inside me. He kisses my neck, resting his head in the nook of my shoulder. I can feel my body shake as the pressure is too much and is released is pulsing waves.

He moans hard and pulls out. I turn around kneel. I grab his long, thick hardness and press it against my lips. I can feel him shiver as he finishes. His sweet, wet, warmth fills my mouth.

Before we have time to nuzzle each other romantically, the door below us is pushed open. I nearly choke as I pull up my pants and he buttons his fly. He grabs me and we carefully step one floor up.

My thrill of being adventurous vanishes as I recognize the voices in the same stairwell as us.

“But baby,” Bradley says. “Come on. It’s been like a whole week. Did I do something wrong?”

I can hear her push him aside. There’s a pause, a silence, and bodies shoving against the wall to kiss. Bradley growls, then sighs.

“Shit. Give me a second for it to kick in.”

“I don’t have time for this.” Her heels click. He pulls her back and they keep kissing.

“She’s right outside, Bradley,” Stella says. “She’ll notice.”

Bradley mumbles something. “I promise I’ll end it tonight.”

“You said that months ago.”

Months ago?

“I promise.”

“Promises are for children. You think a little champagne is going to make things better?” Then she really leaves. Bradley punches the wall before exiting.

“Whoa,” James mutters.

I slump down and he sits beside me.

Whoa
doesn’t even begin to cover it. My mother is sleeping with my best friend.

“That’s fucked up,” James says.

His voice echoes in the stairwell. When the music vibrates against the walls, his voice rings that much clearer. His hand massages my neck.

“How did I not see?” I’m frozen on the steps. I should have seen it. The watch. The way my mom wanted to know if Bradley and I were fooling around when I first got into town. Growing up, all the guys at school wanted to bang my mom. I never thought to consider Bradley was one of them. How did I not
see
it? “Am I so wrapped up in my own world that I couldn’t realize what was directly in front of me? Oh my god… It was Bradley. Bradley was the guy who left in the morning the other day. I
knew
his dad would never get him a watch like that. He said they’d been together for
months
. This is horrible. What if Bradley ends up being her fifth husband? Oh my—Sky. Sky doesn’t even know she’s getting dumped!”

I think of the way she was acting at the bar. How they are clearly always fighting. How she left during the tasting. She
knows
. Of course she knows. Call it a sixth sense, but women always know.

James squeezes the back of my neck. I relax into his grip. It’s amazing how with only his touch I feel so relaxed. Granted with just a little bit of his silence I can also feel so
crazed
.

“I don’t know what to do.”

James puts his arm across my shoulder and brings me closer to him. I look up at his face and he kisses my lips. “There’s nothing for you to do.”

I make a face. “She’s my mother. He’s my best friend. It’s just too weird.”

“Have you and Bradley ever—”

“Really?” I smack his thigh. “That’s what you want to ask me?”

He laughs. “Humor me.”

“Almost. It was always an almost. Something wasn’t right every time. We’ve always been friends. It’s the kind of friendship that’s so old you almost don’t realize you’re both changing until you wonder why you’re still friends.”

He’s quiet for a bit. His eyes are covered in shadow, but I can still make out the trace of a frown. “How does this make you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Uh—yeah? Am I allowed to ask you that?” He nuzzles my hair.

“I guess.” My brain is fried and I want more champagne. “What better place to talk about feelings than post-coital in a dark stairwell in a shitty club.”

“Hey, this is the busiest club Downtown this week. But whatever. Tell me, how do you feel?”

I shrug. “The only person who has ever asked me how I feel is my pediatrician. That and my shrink in high school. He’d go, ‘Hello, Lucky. How do we feel today?’ He always said ‘we’ as if there was more than me living inside of me. I feel like, when it comes to young girls, grown-ups see the people we are, and the people they want us to be. They’re not the same person. I never managed to fit into the girl they—my mother, my teachers, my stepdads, my shrinks—thought I should be. I was always just me. I’ve known
me
my whole life, and my inability to compromise with that is why I keep running.”

His thumb draws circles on the back of my neck as I lean on him. I’ve never been this open to anyone before. Not guys I’ve dated for months. Not even Bradley.

“I feel like I don’t even know the people around me. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know Felicity. I don’t know Bradley. I thought I did. I thought that he was my perfect best friend. He was the guy my mother always told me to aspire to have.”

I can feel James flinch when I say that.

“I wonder if she did that because she wanted him,” I continue. “Or I don’t know. I could never see myself with anyone.”

“Because you don’t want to compromise who you are.” He says it as a question.

“I’m pretty selfish.”

“Yep.”

I elbow him.

“You wanted to know who I am? For starters, my real name is James. My full name is Francis James Murphy.” He sighs. “When I was sixteen. I made friends with these skeezers that moved in across the street. They threw all kinds of parties. Drugs, girls, booze, you name it. My Ma hated it when I came home late because she knew I was over there. She’d tell me there was nothing good for me in that place, but I wouldn’t listen. I told her it was better than being at home with my dad drunk and screaming all the time.

“One night she decided to come and get me. I don’t remember what I was doing. Maybe I was drunk or high. All I remember was hearing shots. Five of them. I remember everyone screaming and ducking. But something inside of me hurt, you know. So I went outside and the oldest guy, they called him Kid, was slumped down on the porch with a bullet in his arm.

“My Ma, she was on the sidewalk. I didn’t realize it was her at first. She was in her nightgown. I just stood there as the blood pooled out from the back of her head. Boom. Single shot to the back of the head. One though her shoulder. Another through her chest. I still didn’t know it was her as people started coming out, the sirens heading our way.

“I knew it was her when my dad ran screaming up the street. And I just stood there as he screamed louder and harder than any of the sirens driving up the block. I just turned around and grabbed the first thing I could and started bashing Kid on his face. No one came to his rescue. No one cheered or helped. They just watched. Even the police. They stopped me short of killing him though.”

I place my hand on his face, urging him to look at me. What do you say to that? I know that when my dad died, all the “I’m sorrys” in the world made me feel even worse. I know that’s not what James wants to hear. Instead, I kiss his face. His eyelashes tickle my cheek. I wanted all of James and here he is. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Is he still in Boston?”

James nods. “My Pa lost the house but kept the bar. Lives in the office upstairs. After my mom was killed, he just lost it. He blamed me. I blamed me too. So my Pa just treated me like shit after that. And I believe it. I believed I was shit. I dropped out of high school when I was seventeen. I got picked up for disorderly conduct a lot. Then, a few weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday, I got bagged for dealing. I went to juvie for two years. My probation officer was the security guard from Fenway. When I got out my older brother got me a job washing dishes at his friend’s diner. Then they put me on the line. Now I’m here, with you.”

“I saw your brother in the back alley the other say,” I admit. If we’re going to come clean, I’m going to have to tell him sooner or later.

James sighs. “You think I’m a drug dealer, don’t you?”

“If you won’t tell me, my imagination will just get out of hand.”

“My brother Michael is really proud. He came to see me after Clarissa called him. So we fought because he’s afraid I might lose a good thing. Then we fought because I wanted to give him money to help Pa pay the bills. The old man won’t take my money, but if it comes from Michael he will. We fight a lot, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You have to invite your family to the restaurant. They have to see everything you’ve accomplished.”

“They won’t come.”

I don’t lift my head from his shoulder. I let his hand brush up and down my back.

“Look,” he says. “There’s no rule that says you have to know everyone 100% because we are never going to be the same person our whole lives. You’re not the girl you were yesterday, or two years before that, or two weeks ago. I’m not the guy I was when I was seventeen, thank God for the world. We change, every single day, for better or worse. That doesn’t mean that you have to keep running just because you’re afraid someone won’t love you.”

“I don’t know, James. I’m so confused. You’re playing these games. You’re hot and cold and hotter—”

“They’re not games! I’m just as confused as you are.”

I shake my head, but don’t let go of his hand. “I don’t even know where I’ll be next week. Just know that everything you just told me, it doesn’t make you a bad person. Terrible things happen. You didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Sometimes I feel like I did.”

Now it’s my turn to come clean. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“To be with me?”

My laugh echoes. “Once a year my mom and I have a deal. We get dinner on the anniversary of my dad’s death. Then I leave again the next day.”