Whiskey Kisses (6 page)

“Oh, I’ve definitely engaged in mortal combat a time or two.” My eighteenth birthday comes to me like the lash of a whip, and I close my eyes a moment.

“You okay?” He places his hand gently over my arm and leans in just enough. I can tell Holt really does care.

“I’m fine. Let’s talk about you. So what did you major in?”

“Life.” He takes a huge bite of his sandwich then polishes off half his soda. “I didn’t go the college route.”

“Oh, but I thought— I just assumed because Bryson went…”

“I know. It’s okay. It’s something I couldn’t wrap my head around at the time. I had some things I needed to sort out. Anyway, I think I’m okay without it.”

“It’s not for everybody,” I offer a little too quick. “I mean, I didn’t go.”

“You didn’t go?” His forehead wrinkles as if this somehow takes the sheen off who he thinks I am, and it should. I’m a far cry from this teen idol he’s painted me out to be.

“I didn’t. And I certainly don’t judge anyone who chooses not to. I promise, there’s life outside those ivy-covered walls. I’m living proof.” Sort of.

He gives a slow nod. His eyes ride up and down my body with that elevator stare, and, I can’t help think any moment now he’s going to realize what a mistake this is and show me the door.

“So, tell me”—he starts—“why aren’t you out there breaking hearts like you’re supposed to?”

I finish off my sandwich and wash it down with my Cherry Coke, trying to find just the right lie to feed him.

“I’m…really busy. I’ve all but taken over the studio.” The truth lingers just beyond my touch like a fur-lined beast waiting to devour me. But that’s as close as I can get. Besides, Holt fed me the best damn grilled cheese sandwich I could ever hope to put in my stomach. There’s no way I could ever lie to him.

“Busy, huh?” He tips his head back, eyeing me through heavily slotted lids. “So you’re up for some pointers?”

“From you?” I sketch his mouth out into my memory. Holt has lush, full lips that you would never think a man would have, and I savor their effigy for later. “I’ll take them all night long.” Crap. Did I just say that? My eyes widen then retract. I try to play it off as if it’s no big thing—but, God, I’m going to give him the wrong idea. He’s going to think I’m some kind of a predator who tricked him into taking me to his sexual lair and demanded grilled cheese sandwiches in exchange for lewd acts. At least that’s what Jemma would do.

He bears into me with his eyes slit with desire. That intense gaze of his burns through me like acid, and my cheeks catch fire from the inside. Holt is a master at what he does, and, any moment now, I’m going to voluntarily get in that line of girls just waiting to jump into his bed. My breathing becomes erratic. I lean in on impulse then straighten. What am I thinking? This is Holt. This is
me
. Me, the virgin. I don’t jump in beds. I’m not just some girl he’s picked up at a party. I’m a certifiable mess, and if he knew how truly deformed I was on the inside, he wouldn’t be eyeing me as if he’d like a bite.

“When was the last time you kissed anybody?” He asks point blank. My entire body flushes with heat. My toes curl without meaning to, and I can’t catch my breath. “I think we should start there.”

“Holt?” I swallow hard, trying to ignore the boulder lodging in my throat. “Would you mind giving me a ride back to my car?”

Holt

Sunday night, Mom invites us all to dinner. Baya and Bryson are hanging out on the couch watching some old flick. Annie is in the kitchen with Mom. Here I am alone, wondering what the fuck happened last night and how the hell to fix it.

Nitro, my mother’s black lab, hops up and nestles next to me. Why do I get the feeling there’s something allegorical happening here.

“So, what gives?” Bryson knocks my leg off the coffee table with his foot. “I asked you a half hour ago how it went with Iz.”

I take a hard sniff trying to come up with something that won’t make me feel like an ass. “Just hung out. Took her to my place and had a quick bite.”

“A quick bite?” Baya looks to Bryson before breaking out in giggles. “That’s a new way to put it.”

“It wasn’t that kind of bite. It was completely platonic.” The last thing I need is Izzy thinking I’m spreading rumors. It’s obvious she’s got some issues when it comes to men. Either that or I make one hell of a lousy grilled cheese sandwich. “You know anything about her?” I nod over to Baya. I know for a fact Baya is tight with Laney. She might be able to add a little clarity to the mystery.

“Just met her. Well, I met her once before when Roxy puked on her shoes, but that lasted about five seconds.”

Much like our non-date.

“I know Laney’s been actively looking for someone to set her up with,” she continues. “In fact, she mentioned she had next Friday night all mapped out for her.”

“Nice.” And there you go.

Bryson pulls Baya in tight, and a wave of jealousy prickles through me. A part of me wishes it were me and Izzy sitting on that couch. Funny thing is she’s the only girl I’ve ever wanted that with.

“You know”—my brother holds up a finger—“Ryder mentioned something once about her having a cat collection. He said if ever there was a crazy cat lady in the making it was Izzy.”

“No shit. Cats?” Not that it’s any crime, but it’s painting a picture. I shake my head stumped as hell. Izzy is a goddess that deserves to be worshipped nightly. I wonder what’s really eating at her. I don’t buy for a second that she’s more interested in cats than men. Then it hits me like a ton of shit bricks. What if she’s into chicks? A cloud of grief lays over me. That’s one bill I can’t fill. Crap. I don’t even want to go there.

“Dinner,” Mom sings from the dining room, and we head over. There’s a man by her side and a woman by his, and it takes a second to register exactly who he is because I haven’t seen his face in this house since I was in high school.

“Dad?” Annie says without hesitating. It’s so rare she vocalizes anymore. A few kids made fun of her a couple times, and she’s been nothing but whispers and sign language ever since.

We head over and crowd our father with a good old-fashioned group hug. It takes a second for it to sink in that he’s brought a plus one. A thin, exceptionally young brunette stands sheepishly off to the side, and I’m assuming she’s Dad’s new main squeeze even though we haven’t formally been introduced.

“Look who’s back.” I motion with my hand a little more aggressively than necessary. At the house we sign as much as possible. It’s natural as breathing, not to mention we’d never want Annie to feel left out. “What’s going on?” I give his arm a light swat as we make our way to our seats.

“Does something need to happen for me to have a nice Sunday dinner with my family?” He offers that signature politician grin he’s famous for—lying through his teeth while mugging for the camera, or, in this case, our attention.

“Traditionally.” Mom averts her eyes before offering her own signature grin, the one she throws out like a barb when she’s good and pissed—like now.

“Let’s hold off on the sarcasm, Miranda. You mind?” He gives her a slimy wink. “Just one night.” He glances around the table. “Everyone, I’d like for you to meet Jenny. Jenny and I have been seeing one another for a while, and I thought it would be good for us all to sit down and get acquainted.” He nods over at Baya. “And I see there are some people I’ve yet to meet, myself.”

Bryson segues into the intros, and we start in on dinner. Twice I catch Jenny checking out my brother and me. I know that look. She likes what she sees. Swear to God, I’ve got a couple years on her. Mom said she was a little older than me, but it’s obvious Jenny, here, is barely street legal. What the hell does she want with someone like my dad anyway? It’s obvious she thinks the bars are some giant cash cow that will pave her closet with designer handbags and shoes. I’ve got news for her. The bars aren’t oozing money. Actually, that’s spot on. They’re hemorrhaging like there’s no tomorrow. It’s a fucking sieve, and if we don’t take care of things soon, we’ll all be out on the streets looking for a sugar daddy.

Mom touches her hand to mine while Bryson and Baya carry on a full-blown conversation with Dad.

“You okay?” She mouths.

“I’m fine.”

I can see the hurt in her eyes. The betrayal is still as fresh as the day he left. My appetite cuts out, and I think I’m next. I push my plate back, and Dad is quick to eye it.

“Before we lose anyone,” he clears his throat—“Jenny and I have an announcement.”

Crap. I shoot a look to Mom, and her jaw clenches. Her hands knot up in fists. I’ve done this to her. You can place the blame of what comes next right on my fucked-up shoulders.

“We’re going to make it official.” Jenny squeals like one of Nitro’s chew toys before holding up the rock on her hand.

“And there it is,” Bryson whispers just under his breath.

Nice to know we think alike, too.

The rest of the night goes off like a bomb, and even Annie looks as if she’s ready to slaughter our father with a butter knife.

Yup, all my fault.

After the fuck fest that was dinner, I take off and head for the hills, otherwise known as anywhere but here. That night from long ago comes to the surface, and I try to push it away, submerge it right back down where it belongs, in the filth and the mire, the forever castoff of my mind. I’ve done some stupid shit in my day, but that night—that damn night changed the way I breathe. It took what my parents once had and flushed it down the toilet—flushed my future right along with it.

Izzy pops back into my mind and a flood of relief fills me. It’s funny because all these years I’ve held onto her like some sort of life raft, and now she’s really in it—sort of. Not that she’ll most likely ever speak to me again after what happened at my apartment, but, thanks to Baya, I know just where to find her next Friday night—at the Black Bear on her first blind date. I’d love to take her out myself sometime—maybe take her for a ride on the boat.

I drive through downtown Jepson on my way home. I know for a fact Laney and Ryder live here somewhere in one of these high-rises. Wish I knew which one. I’d swing by and see if I can get anything out of them about Izzy without being too obvious.

A dull laugh rattles through me as I make my way home. I’m not sure I can hide my feelings for Iz much longer.

Sooner than later it’ll be apparent to everyone how I feel about Izzy Sawyer. But I don’t think anyone gives a rat’s ass one way or the other.

I just hope Izzy does.

At the end of the day, she’s the only one that matters.

That’s been true since the first day I laid eyes on her.

Izzy

Hey Dad,

How’s it going?

Me? I’m still royally goofing up my life. It’s called paralysis by analysis. Sometimes I want to move in a different direction, but then I start to overthink things and my brain gets fried. Has that ever happened to you? I guess I’ll never know. I have so many questions for you with nothing but blank space on the other side of them. You would think I’d be used to the nothingness of it all by now, but my heart has foolishly saved a place for you, and all I have to fill it is grief. For the record, I don’t believe in “good” grief. It’s all bad—right down the very last drop. I should know, I’m still grieving for you.

~Izzy