Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone (19 page)

I take the phone out nervously, peering down at Jags’s number that I saved in my phone after Tango used him to call me the other day. I click “
read
”.

Jags:
I’m sorry you got put on the spot like that. Wasn’t sure what to say either.

Stop acting so sweet, Jags. You’re messing with my head.
How can someone with such a dirty mouth and mind also possibly be the sweetest person I have ever met? It hurts my head to try and figure it out.

Me:
Thanks, I’m okay.

I drop my phone back into my purse, telling myself I’m done with the conversation. I need to figure out where my head is before I say anymore to him. It’s just not a good situation.

Stepping out of the hospital, I walk along the sidewalk and over to the parking lot, where I find Jags leaning up against my car.
He is not giving up, is he?

I unlock my car with my clicker, trying to ignore his presence. He’s leaning against the back passenger door, and I’m hoping he just leaves when he sees me get into my car.
Time to take a hint
.

I reach for my door handle, and his hand wraps around my elbow, stopping me from going any further. “Stop, please.”

“Oh, you’re being sweet again? It’s hard to tell when you’re going to start acting like the dirtiest pig in the world versus acting like this charming person I think we both know you’re not. You’re confusing me, and I don’t like it.”

“Maybe I don’t know who I am. Would that be a good explanation?” he asks, tugging me away from the car door.

“No, it’s not a good explanation at all. I think most people in their late twenties know who they are.”

“Does that include people who cover up their pain with a smile? Or people who say anything they’re thinking because it’s better than speaking the truth? I know I’m brash and ‘
rough around the edges
’ as you put it, but I still have a heart.”

“I didn’t say you were rough around the edges,” I argue.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I laugh because he has no idea what I’m thinking. “No, you don’t.”

“I like you, Sasha.” There is sincerity in his eyes, and he’s looking right at me with a stabbing emotion. “I know you don’t like
me
, though, and I’m okay with that. I just wanted you to know how I felt.” His hand releases from my elbow and I’m free to get into my car now.

“Oh,” is all I can think of to say.

He looks down at his watch as I’m opening the door. “We’re getting more nasty storms within the next couple of hours. Make sure you’re inside somewhere safe, okay?” he says.

I haven’t heard anything about storms rolling in, but I haven’t watched the weather today, either. “I’ll be fine,” I tell him.

“Also, your back tire looks like it needs air. You should get that taken care of today. Bring it by the shop I’m working at if you want me to take a quick look at it.”

“Oh right, I forgot you got a job.”

“It’s just down the road near Stanley Park.”

“Thanks,” I tell him. “It’ll be fine.” Everything is going to be fine. Everything.

“Later, doll,” he says without a smile. He can’t be seriously upset with me. He’s been a total dirtbag, a dirtbag I gave in to last night. A dirtbag who bandaged up my knee this morning.

Feeling infuriated that I’m partly to blame for this situation, due to my actions last night in the dark, I take off down the street, heading toward Dad’s office. I hate that I have to do this. I’ve been so good at taking care of myself since I moved out after college, and now I feel like I’m taking gigantic steps backward. Dad’s offered me jobs a number of times over the years, but I enjoyed working at the restaurant. I realize it had nothing to do with my fifty-thousand-dollar business management degree, but it made me happy. Plus, why bother starting a career if I’m just…if I was just planning to end up being a stay-at-home wife and mom some day in the near future. Maybe now I should be regretting that thought since it doesn’t look like a reality I’m going to take part in.

I pull up to the business suite and reapply my lipstick that has long worn off since this morning. With my white blazer pulled tightly over my chest, I fluff my hair a bit and check my reflection in the mirror. The second I take one step out of the car, my stomach sinks a little more. I hate this.

It takes everything I have to make it up to the ninth floor and knock on my dad’s office door after the numerous polite hellos, fake smiles, and explanations of my disappearing act for the past two years to all of the people who work in cubes outside of his office. I used to come in to visit Dad all of the time, but things changed as I became more aware of who he was and how he treated Mom. Mom may not appear to care about her apron wearing, feather-dusting life, but I care for her. She deserves more. Despite the fact that I live only a few miles away, I’ve diligently avoided this place.

“Come in,” Dad says. He doesn’t know it’s me, though. I didn’t give him a heads up that I was coming down here. He’d want to know why. He’d want to know if something was wrong and where I’d been staying for the past couple of weeks, and what I plan on doing for the rest of my life. Ironically, he doesn’t want my life to mirror Mom’s, and Mom wants for me what she has. I don’t get it. Because of this, it’s taken me a few days to prepare answers for it all, and it’s better to just get it over with at a public place that I can leave, knowing he won’t cause a scene.

I open the door and find he’s not alone in his office. His secretary, who I don’t think I’ve met before, is sitting on the edge of his desk with a short pencil skirt and a blouse that looks like it’s missing a couple of buttons. The look on my face must reflect whatever Dad is thinking because it isn’t good, but my mind has been known to go places it shouldn’t be going these past few days, so I clear my throat and approach his desk.

“Baby, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Dad asks.

The secretary, or whoever she is, stands from the desk and straightens her skirt out over her hips, and she looks far more uncomfortable than I feel right now. Still, I can’t help but narrow my eyes at Dad for a second, waiting to see what his reaction will be. He wouldn’t do anything like that to Mom. He needs her too much. That and they’ve done a good job at putting on the appearance of this perfect—sickeningly perfect— marriage for as long as I can remember. Nothing about it has ever seemed perfect to me, but they could at least fool me with their contentment for each other. My family was a replica of
Leave it to Beaver
, the show from the 1950s that showcased a typical housewife and mother working her butt off to keep the house clean, the family fed, and most importantly her husband happy, all while the husband’s only job was to work and come home to a hot meal. That’s how our house was—is.

“Everything is fine,” I assure him. Kind of. “Can we have a minute?” I ask, looking over at the weird elephant in the room. That’s a nice name for this hussy-looking woman.

“We’ll finish our conversation in just a bit,” Dad tells her with a nod and a wink.
Okay, that’s not weird or anything
.

The woman slips out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. “Is she new?” I ask.

“Tatiana? Oh, no, she’s been here for a good six months now,” he replies, brushing my question off.

“So as much as this kills me to ask,” I say, pausing, needing this pause, wishing there was another option. “I could use a job.”

Dad leans back in his chair and the coils beneath him whine in response. In his relaxed position, he lifts his freshly shined penny-loafered feet up onto his mahogany desk. With his hands perched behind his head, he raises one brow. “What happened to the restaurant?”

“It’s a long story, and I’d rather not get into it right now. I just…I need a job, that’s all.”

“What kind of job would you like?” he continues.

Dad runs the largest head-hunter organization in southern Texas. It’s so big, he employs over 60 percent of the residents in this town. Dad’s always been a business mogul, but moving from an overly populated area to a smaller county has given him the opportunity to make big moves—or take over an entire area as it seems. I know the business has several different departments, branches, and dozens of job openings, but I didn’t consider he’d give me an option. “I guess whatever you think I’d be best doing.”

Dad removes his feet from his desk and leans forward, pressing his elbows down onto his desk. He looks somewhat amused by this conversation, and it annoys me. He likes to be needed. I’m pretty sure he wishes I was still a child that he could control, and now I’m giving him a little piece of that back.

“How about you do what your friend, Cali, is doing. She runs the construction job-placement office downtown. We have another office for administration job-placements and the manager of that one is about to go on a permanent maternity leave. She’s not due for a few more weeks so there would be time to train you.” Part of me was hoping he’d just stick me in Cali’s office and have me work with her, but I know he only has one manager in each location. She runs that office and has a couple of younger assistants helping her out. “You’ll have a couple of people working below you, and the pay starts at fifty-five thousand a year. Will that work?”

Holy cow. I haven’t ever made that much money. I was making eighteen dollars an hour working at the restaurant, this is like a doubled raise. “That will work. When can I start?”

“Tomorrow or anytime in the next few days is fine. Just let me know what you decide. The office opens at eight-thirty.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking the deep breath I’ve needed to take since I stepped inside.

“By the way, will Carolina be back to work soon? I heard her husband was in an accident.”

“I’m sure it will be soon.” I don’t know exactly what her plans are right now. She needs someone to care for Tango all day, and there’s no one to do that.

I lift my purse from the chair I had placed it down on and pull it over my shoulder. “You know, your mother and I drove by your house the other night, and it looked like you weren’t home. Is everything okay?”

I hate that they still check up on me like I’m a child. They know I broke up with Landon but they don’t know any of the reasons behind it, and I’m pretty sure they’d rather figure it out on their own rather than pry more than they already have. Not to mention, how would they know if I was home or not? Maybe I went to bed early, and the lights were just off?

“I was helping Cali out since her husband is still in the hospital,” I tell him, hoping to avoid more questions. “Thanks again for this opportunity. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure, baby. I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses about a career. It’s important for you to have your own two feet to stand on. You shouldn’t have to depend on a man for that.” And there it is. The line I’ve been waiting for. “I want you to have a successful career, you know. That’s why I sent you to college. I want more for you, Sasha.” More for me?

“I got it, Dad.”

I turn for the door, but he clears his throat, which he often does when he wants my attention without saying so. “No hug for your dad?”

I shouldn’t feel this way about the man who participated in giving me a life, but this is how things have been between us. So, really, this is business as usual. I walk around the desk and wrap my arms around his neck. With his embrace held tightly, my focus falls upon his trash can and a neon piece of paper sticking out of it. Laying on the top of the filled trash is a used condom.

Instinctively, I pull away from him, feeling sick, sad, hurt, and lied to. “Is everything okay with you and Mom?” I ask. I talk to mom almost every other day. Our relationship is nothing like my relationship with Dad. The two of them haven’t shown an issue with each other, nor made me think things weren’t as picture perfect as they have appeared to be. However, I have many times wondered how fake Mom’s smile was when Dad would come home late at night as she was reheating dinner and pouring him his strong drink, all while he never even offered her so much as a thank you.

“Of course it is, sweetheart,” he laments. “Why wouldn’t it be?” It wasn’t intentional, but my focus visibly shifts back to the trashcan, and he follows my gaze. Another clearing of his throat answers my question. “That’s not what you think it is.”

“Okay,” I say quietly, making my way back toward the door.

“Sasha,” he says. “Please don’t mention this to your mother.” Final nail in the coffin, I suppose. Just what I needed, more added stress.

I neither agree nor disagree, when I leave his office. I was expecting this encounter to go much differently. Is there no one in my life I can trust? Everyone just keeps turning on me or proving they aren’t who they have pretended to be. This is why I don’t want to rely on anyone. This is why I should consider remaining single for the rest of my life; although, the thought of that hurts almost as much as finding out someone I love has lied to me.

The hallways are a blur as I walk through them, and the goodbyes sound muffled as I ignore everyone, not even feigning interest in those around me this time. As I make my way to the car, I notice the clouds are darker than I want to believe they are. If this moment isn’t defining my life right now, I don’t know what will. It’s as if a dark cloud has settled over my entire life. I just want to go back to bed—the bed I’m sleeping in at Cali’s house—and make this day go away.

I turn the key in the ignition, and I’m immediately greeted with the darn tire light, repeating what Jags told me two hours ago. Of course, just what I need right now. I press a few buttons, looking for the tire gauge numbers, not that I really know what I’m looking for, but when I get to the picture with the tires, it shows that all of the numbers are the same except one number that’s at least fifteen less than the others. That can’t be good.

I head out of the lot and pull onto the street, not feeling much of a difference with my tire pressure being low, so I consider heading back and dealing with it at lunchtime tomorrow. Plus, it really does look like the sky is about to fall.