Nightshade
Chapter 7 | Chapter 9
Chapter 8: Flambe
TW: panic attacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, confrontations, allusion/brief mentions of grooming, light make out session, Simone & Olive suck, language, smoking, mentions of drug use (past and present), some heavy topics (mentions of suicide, near death experiences), obvious tension, slight mention of tattooing, a strip club/strippers/partial nudity, drinking, mild implied violence
The hazy outline of her face was all he could see as the world around him threatened to fade into the dark edges of black that lined his vision. Lena filled the space between his legs, sitting on the floor with him. Parts of her face would come into view, more clear and vivid than they usually were… she looked like an angel. “Can you tell me what you need?”
You, he thought as his chest tightened. It was an odd admission for him. Usually, in times like this, all he could think of was Simone and what she’d tell him he needed to do. Slow your breathing. Just push through it. Just breathe. But at that moment, all he could think of was her and how her presence alone made the tightness in his chest ease. He shook his head quickly, afraid he’d reveal too much to her if he spoke now.
“That’s okay,” she said softly, moving to settle in closer. “Let’s just focus on breathing.” She reached down and carefully took hold of his hand, pressing it to her chest. Her eyes became clear. A pair of glowing emeralds looking at him like she cared… like this wasn’t a massive waste of her time. “Can you feel my heartbeat?”
For a minute, all he could feel was the coolness of her skin, soft as silk beneath his palm. Then the steady thumping of her heart echoed through his hand, seemingly filling his chest with its power. Then, nodding, he watched her lips lift into a relieved smile. “Can you feel my breaths?”
A flash of her head dipping below the dark waters in The Cape filled his head. He remembered how she’d nearly stopped breathing in his arms… the way her chest stuttered and her heartbeat felt bolder, wilder against his chest. His head ticked as he forced himself to focus on her now. On the steady motion of her chest falling and rising with each deep and slow breath she took. He nodded again.
“Good,” she whispered. “Now, just try and breathe with me, okay?” She pressed her hand to the back of his, a gesture that made him feel fuzzy, uncertain of what the lifting feeling was, as she counted softly. Jake could feel his body reacting, calming to her within minutes. Usually, he would have to force it all down, push what he felt back into the confines of the cage he kept it all locked away in until he could trick himself into thinking he was fine.
This was different. Lena squeezed his hand, her thumb stroking along the back for a second as she held his gaze, unflinching and unjudging. “You’re here. You’re safe with me.”
Safe? As though he was some scared child? Jake tore his eyes away from her, anger, embarrassment, and shame boiling inside his chest as he pulled his hand away and settled onto the floor, trying to put space between her body and his. “You can go now. I’m fine.”
“It’s okay not to be okay sometimes,” she replied as sweetly as she retook hold of his hand.
“Not for me.” He forced a chuckle from his throat, trying to clear the tightness that lingered there.
“Why not?” She asked. He almost answered her on instinct… some bizarre instinct that only grew stronger daily, threatening to have him spilling every detail of himself and his life to Lena Harrow like some stupid puppy desperate for her love. When he didn’t reply, she said, “You’re human too, Jake. And after everything that’s happened… That biker asshole punching you and my shit in Cape Cod combined with your Cape-related stuff. So understandably, you’d be feeling overwhelmed.”
“It’s so fucking stupid. All this over a dumb arcade game.” Why does this feel so easy?
Lena shook her head, that damn thumb stroking the back of his hand again, sending a wave of calm through him. “It’s not stupid. It took me years to get over that shitty fake drowning animation. I still can’t go swimming. No matter how shallow the water is, I always feel like I’m going to sink.” That’s why. Lena understood… she knew what it felt like in a way no one else had. It was scary to think of all the ways they’d suffered alike throughout their fucked up lives. “We don’t get to choose what affects us. We just have to do our best to get through it.”
She got him through it, he realized. He forced all expression from his face as he once again shoved everything to fade away. “Thank you.”
“That’s what friends are for.” She pulled back, and he had to physically refrain from moving to stop her. “I’ll give you a few minutes to yourself.”
Jake watched her go, silently cursing himself for having this public outburst… for letting her, of all people, see him like this. He waited in the bathroom for a few minutes, looking into the mirror's reflection and berating himself for being so weak and annoying. Finally, he left, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone, not bothering to pretend like they’d care if he just disappeared. Catching a cab, he went straight home. Home where he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him hit this low point. Home where he could open up the first beer he could get his hands on and the seven after that.
Standing in the doorway of his bathroom, his eyes glued to the tub. Echoes of distant waves filled his ears, images of him looking up from beneath the water… his mother's voice assuring him that everything would be okay. He stepped forward, drawn to the idea of filling the tub up and slipping beneath the water to force himself to face that breathlessness that still seemed to haunt him. As he shrugged off his jacket, the sound of it hitting the floor, heavier than it should have been, pulled him from his drunken fixation.
He fell to his knees, having to steady himself against the doorframe as he bent over to pull his jacket into his lap and fish through the pockets. Then, pulling out the fluffy green frog with starry eyes and big red lips, Jake smiled. “I think I’ll call him Jake.” He chuckled at her voice, the image of her holding up the hideous little grumpy-faced frog to show him etched in his mind like it was the most important thing he’d ever seen. “He even looks like you.”
“Lena,” he whispered, rubbing his fingers over the long-limbed stuffed animal. His phone lit up beside him, Simone most likely calling or texting to nag him about not being late for his shift tomorrow.
Goodnight, Jake. He didn’t recognize the number at first, but after a minute of thought, he smiled, sad and happy simultaneously. Jake honestly hadn’t expected her to ever use the number he’d put into her phone, but for that moment, he was glad she did.
Goodnight, Lena.After he sent the simple message, a wave of calm washed over him. He half expected her to text him again with the dozens of questions she no doubt had; Simone would have, but after a few minutes of silence, he decided she’d fallen asleep. Leaning back into the doorway, Jake held onto the little frog and closed his eyes.
*
A heavyweight dipped the side of my bed, and the smell of Irish whiskey and hair gel filled my nose. The featherlight tapping of something fuzzy to my cheek made me groan. Opening my eyes to find Patrick poorly hiding behind the stuffed frog I'd won at the arcade. "Better wake up, sleepyhead!" He sang in a Kermit the Frog voice. "Don't want to miss breakfast. It's the most important meal of the - OW!"
I pinched his arm harder, pulling the grumpy frog from his hands and shoving him off the bed with my legs. "Don't you have places to be?"
"Not really," he answered from the floor. "I got my shit done hours ago."
Turning to look at the clock, I groaned even louder. "Seven o'clock? How dare you."
Peter emerged in the doorway, leaning against it with a bowl of cereal. "Morning, sleeping beauty!"
Pulling the frog close, I rolled over, flopping the pillow over my head. "Go away and let me sleep."
"This is my room, you know."
I swung my feet over the side of Peter's bed, stepping on Patrick's back to slide through the doorway, and headed to my room. Pausing, I smiled back at them. "Now, keep the noise down so I can go back to sleep."
They chuckled as I shut my door and flopped onto my bed. I wasn't expecting to be able to fall back asleep, but getting the time to relax in my bed holding the soft grumpy frog named Jake made this small moment enough. I listened to my two brothers wreak havoc in the small kitchen, blaring Irish folk music and loudly dancing to the jaunty tune. For this one moment, life felt slow and steady. It felt like it had before our dad died.
My brothers and I ate breakfast together an hour later, then we took turns showering in the shared bathroom and settled around the table, drinking coffee and picking at our plates as Ozzy slid through the front door and smiled. "Ah, it's so nice seeing all my little troublemakers at this table again." He kissed Peter's head and pinched Patrick's cheek before wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "How was the rest of your homecoming night?"
"Very fun," Peter said with a smile. "I do appreciate it."
"No more thank yous or I appreciate its. Welcome home, big brother." I replied.
Patrick checked his watch. "You need to be at the hospital at one, right?"
"Yeah." Sensing my nervous confusion, Peter continued quickly, "They want me to check in. You know, make sure I'm doing well at home."
"I can come with you," I offered. "I don't have to be at work till three."
"Sounds good," Peter agreed.
My phone buzzed a few times in my pocket.
I apologize for the last-minute notice. I need you to come in early tonight. You'll be working the bar. - Howard
Hey Red, it looks like it's gonna be you tonight and me. Come in early so I can go over the basics with you (Howard's orders) - Nicky.
Holy shit. I gulped down the rest of my orange juice and quickly set my dishes in the sink. "Change of plans. Looks like tonight is going to be an absolute shitstorm. Pat, can you make sure Pete gets to his appointment?"
"Sure thing, sis."
"Is everything alright?" Ozzy asked.
Sighing, I answered, "I guess I'll find out."
"Call if you need anything."
"Aye, aye, Captain Oz!" I hollered, shutting the apartment door behind me and moving down the stairs and through the gym. Dom leaned against the wall in front of the alley as I walked closer. "Dom! Got time to give me a ride to work?"
He tossed the cigarette to the side and swung his leg over his bike. "Sure thing, kid, let's go." Then, lifting the helmet, he smirked. “Newbies get the helmet.”
“I’m hardly a newbie.”
“Alright, passengers, get the helmet. Better?” He asked.
I grumbled, pulling the bulky helmet over my head and curling around Dom’s back as he wove through traffic effortlessly. Riding with Dom was always relaxing. I knew he’d get us to where we were going without issues, and listening to him bitch about every traffic inconvenience was always entertaining. Through the slight tint of the visor, I watched as the city lights streaked by, and for a quick moment, I felt like I was somewhere else. Somewhere that reeked of expensive cologne and finely polished leather. For a moment, I was in the dark car, fingers digging into my thighs to keep myself from shaking as the lights and snow flew by at a startling speed, and a cold sting bit into my neck, threatening to cut with each bump and turn.
My fingers curled into Dom’s shirt as I pressed my head to his back and breathed in the way the helmet smelled like cigarette smoke with a mild tint of Dom’s weed. I wasn’t there. I would never be there again, not with Dom around. He pulled into the alleyway and held his hand out for his helmet. “Thanks, Dom,” I said, handing it to him.
“Busy day?” He nodded to the clamoring of people that became visible when a few guys from the back opened the alley door to take the trash out.
“Yeah, it’s looking like it’s gonna be crazy.”
“Well, call if you need anything,” he reminded. “See you at Ozzy’s later?”
“See you later. Try to stay out of jail.” Dom scoffed as he pulled the bike out of the alley and waved back at me before flying off.
The kitchen was an absolute nightmare. Bodies of people were moving around like their lives depended on it as they frantically moved dishes around and hunted for bar mops and prepped. Scott quickly tasted every sauce, muttering more or less when he looked up at me and shook his head. “Fuckin ridiculous.”
I looked around for a minute, whistling lowly. “What the fuck is going on here today?”
“We got slammed with four last-minute VIP reservations.” He shook his head. “The kind of VIP that requires all hands on deck.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“No fucking clue. Howard’s pissed.”
I moved out of Santos’ way as he slid past with a rack of dishes to polish. “Doesn’t Howard have all this shit written out in some book or something, so we don’t get surprised with things like this?”
“Yeah, he does,” Scott answered, tasting another sauce. “Less.” He tossed his spoon to the side and ran a rag over his head, collecting the sweat accumulated. “He says there must've been some mix-up when whoever scheduled their parties wrote it down. It’s a load of fuckin bullshit.”
“You think he did it on purpose?” I asked with furrowed brows.
“I think someone did,” Scott answered. “Doesn’t matter. We’re still fucked. You’re at the bar tonight, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Howard said there was a last-minute change or something.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“Do you know exactly why we’ll need three bartenders tonight?”
“Two. Jake didn’t show up for his shift.” Oh fuck. “He’s usually pretty late, but no one’s been able to get a hold of him, not even Simone.”
“He just didn’t show?”
“Yep,” Scott nodded toward the kitchen doors. “Howard and Simone have been going at it for almost an hour now.”
Great, I cursed to myself. “Thanks, Chef.”
I hurried up the stairs and changed into my work clothes as fast as possible, throwing my hair into a messy bun before tying on the shiny black work shoes. Jake was usually late, a habit he’d been notorious for even before I arrived, but he’d never just skipped work. As I laced up my shoes, I tried not to think about what that meant… on what had happened last night after he left the arcade. Was he just too hung over, or did he do something stupid? My hands shook as I recalled all the times I’d been half-dead in alleyways after taking too many pills and how I would've died if someone hadn’t found me. I closed my eyes tightly. Jake wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t do that, not when he had no one to help him if he needed it.
Will smiled at me as he entered the locker room, changing out his suit jacket for a clean one. “I set my arm in one of the sauces.”
“I’m surprised Scott let you live,” I replied, breathing out my anxiety.
“Me too.” Will looked at me carefully for a minute before he sighed. “Are you okay? I know today’s been… hell, but you look pale.”
“I’m okay,” I assured him. “Just kind of worried that Jake didn’t even call.”
Will shrugged, doing up the button on his jacket. “I’m sure he’s fine. Jake’s like a cockroach. Nothing can get rid of him.”
I bit my cheek to avoid snapping at him for the crude analogy and nodded. “You’re right. He probably just had a long night or something. I better check in with Howard. Let him know I’m here, so he’ll relax a bit.”
“Good idea, though I’d be careful. When I passed the office a minute ago, it sounded like things were getting pretty heated between him and Simone.”
Downstairs I waved to Nicky, quietly gesturing toward Howard’s office to let him know I’d be right there to help him prep. The dark wooden door was slightly open when I turned down the hall, making every harsh word he and Simone traded even louder. “You’re not firing Jake,” Simone said sternly. “He’s-”
“He’s a liability.” Howard sighed. “First, he was making threats to people from behind the bar-”
“That was one time,” Simone cut off. “To one person who we can both agree deserved it.”
“It doesn’t matter how many times it happened or to who, Simone. The fact that it happened at all with this blatant disregard for procedure and, let’s face it, professionalism is more than enough grounds for termination.”
Simone made a soft, seething noise as she scoffed. “This is ridiculous even for you.”
I knocked on the door, cutting into their conversation. Howard smiled tensely as I entered the office. “Lena, thank you for coming in early so last minute.”
“It’s no problem,” I assured him, glancing at Simone’s tight, angry face. “I just wanted to let you know I was here, and uh, it’s probably a bad time, but… I was hoping I could reserve a table for next week, Friday, if possible?” I smiled, a gesture meant to soothe Howard's anger hopefully. “Figured I’d ask you personally, given the scheduling mishaps that have been going on.”
His gaze shifted to a book in front of him, eyes scanning along the page before he nodded and picked up a pen, writing something down. “Done.”
“Thank you,” I responded, taking a deep breath. I’d be the worst friend in the world if I just stood there and acted like Jake’s job wasn’t on the line. "And… I don't think you should fire Jake.”
"Lena-"
"You said this place was as much mine as it was yours," I pointed out, ignoring how Simone's lips tightened. "Well, it's just as much theirs as it is ours, including Jake."
"He no call-"
"No show, I know. But how many times have I done that in the past?"
Howard’s head tilted as he sighed, "That's different."
“Only because of my name. And nepotism isn’t exactly considered professional,” I pointed out.
Howard clenched his jaw as he nodded stiffly. “Nicky’s agreed to go over some things with you. I know you don’t exactly need it, but I need service to go smoothly tonight. After that, I’ll think about what course of action Jake deserves.”
“Thanks, Howard.”
Nicky smiled when he saw me and patted me on the back as I joined him behind the bar. “How bad do you think tonight’s gonna be?”
I laughed as I grabbed a knife and cut the fruit we’d need. “If Howard and Simone’s moods are any indicator, I’d say pretty fucking bad.”
He shook his head. “Well, Howard told me to show you the basics, but I think we both know you don’t need it, so if you don’t say anything, I won’t either.”
“Sounds like a good deal. Thanks, Nicky.”
Simone stormed out of Howard's office, a deep scowl on her face as she regarded me with a heated look of bitterness that made her look like my mother. Nicky’s eyebrows shot up as he mouthed ‘wow’ to me. I couldn’t have agreed more. Simone was a textbook narcissist, someone who reminded me of all the people who made my life a living hell throughout the first fifteen years.
The way she held herself higher than everyone else with that air of superiority and the honeyed words that, more often than not, extended far beyond the surface level of things was my mother. Her inability to embrace change and stubborn insistence that her way was the only way was aunt Maddie. And then there was that which was hidden far beneath the surface. That hideous thing that I only caught in glimpses, fractions of a second, where she’d let that pretty mask of hers drop to reveal what was beneath. That was him. The cursed name still brought a foul taste to my mouth whenever I felt brave enough to speak it.
I watched her prepare the dining room with Olive stuck to her side. They said little to one another, but I noted that Simone seemed to be the only person the new girl didn’t look nervous around. Instead, she held herself differently when she stood beside the blonde woman, higher in a way that made my gut tighten with the sensation that told me I shouldn’t trust her.
Service began with a rush of people flooding the front door. The poor hostess did her best to smile through the chaos and overlapping voices. Howard played the guests like a finely tuned violin, using just the right amount of flattery and bribery. He was undoubtedly in his element as a manager, more so than when I first met him. Back then, he was little more than a young man bumbling around at aunt Maddie’s every request and demand. He didn't have the spine to speak to the guests like he did now and even less charisma.
Howard stood by the bar for a while, looking out at the room full of people and the line of those waiting with grim expressions. Every few minutes, I could feel the familiar weight of his eyes watching me, a sensation that wasn’t uncomfortable but still made me feel weird. Peter had commented on his habit of watching others, particularly me, back when I was younger and timider. He made it clear that he, my dad, and even Patrick weren’t fooled by Howard’s seemingly peaceful and meek demeanor. And after everything that had happened under aunt Maddie’s nose and, in turn, Howard’s, I couldn’t exactly blame him for holding a grudge.
Olive made small talk to Nicky every few minutes as she restocked the bar, but she’d said nothing to me all night. Of course, I didn’t mind that. It wasn’t like I was dying to make conversation with her, but what did get on my nerves was the way she blatantly ignored me. “Olive, we need more ice.”
I hadn’t said it in any tone that would prompt her to ignore me, but she did anyway. Her big eyes watched the dining room, full of a sparkling wonder that, to me at least, made her look like an idiot. Nicky glanced at me and then cleared his throat. “Olive, we need more ice.”
She turned and smiled at him. “Of course! I’ll be right back!”
Scoffing, I shook it off, trying to get through the hectic night without getting dragged into whatever drama she was trying to incite. I’d been helping Ozzy run things behind the bar for years, but tonight was one of the worst nights I’d ever seen behind a bartop. Every seat at the bar was packed, which wasn’t too odd. What made it terrible was that every free inch of space around the bar was also full. Bodies stood smushed together, ordering drinks in frustrated tones and with holier-than-thou looks. Rich people suck, I reminded myself after every fake smile and over-exaggeratedly made drink. They’d put a dollar in the tip jar, and I’d want to pull all my hair out. And they’re terrible tippers.
“Olive,” I called out. “The bar needs more Opus.” The brown-haired girl didn’t pause as she walked past the bar entirely and back into the kitchen. I turned to Nicky with wide eyes that conveyed my frustration well. “Guess I’m getting it.”
He shook his head, refocusing on his drink. “Don’t sweat it. I’ve got the bar covered, Red.”
I felt somewhat relieved by the coolness of the wine cellar and the momentary freedom of fake smiles and shitty people. Scanning the shelves, I didn’t hear her steps until she cleared her throat and smiled thinly at me. “Simone,” I addressed in a bland voice. “Something I can help you with?”
“Where’s Jake?” She asked, her voice not even attempting to sound sweet or friendly anymore.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
Her red lips pursed as she let out a breath. “He was with you last night, wasn’t he?”
I nodded. “For a while, yeah. He left before everyone else. That was the last I saw of him.”
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Simone. I don’t know where he is.” Shrugging my shoulders, I returned my gaze to the racks of wine. “If anything, I would have figured you’d know.”
Simone made a sound that resembled a hissing snake as she spat the words out, "I knew I was right about you. Selfish, manipulative, and dangerous."
That was enough. Fuck this. "Projecting your own shortcomings onto me isn't going to help you." Cold rage seethed from her as she straightened her back. "Just because you're feeling bitter and abandoned doesn't mean it has anything to do with me."
"Oh, but it has everything to do with you. Jake was perfectly happy before you showed up."
"Ahh, yes, because spending every night drowning out mountains of trauma with alcohol and drugs and casual sex is what all happy people do."
Her lips thinned into a tight line as she laughed. "You think you know him? You don't. I know him. I am the only one that knows him." Shaking her head, she looked me up and down. "He doesn’t care about you.” My teeth ground together as she smiled. “You aren't the first new girl Jake has gotten himself caught up in, and you certainly won't be the last. He'll get what he wants and be done with you just like all the others." She raised her hand to her chest. "I am the only person Jake would never leave."
I raised a brow, unbothered and unphased by her long-winded but ultimately meaningless words. This was a tantrum, nothing more. "I see," I started. "I wonder which one burns you most. The fact that he's giving me more attention than you or the fact that I didn't have to manipulate him when he was a child to get it."
There it was. The chip in her perfect porcelain mask shattered everything in the blink of an eye. Simone's face dropped into a dead stare, filled with every lie she told him and every excuse she made to justify what she'd done. The dead stare I’d seen before in someone else's eyes. "You don't know a goddamn thing about Jake and I. You don't know what he's been through, what I've had to sacrifice-"
"And what about him?" I demanded angrily. "What did Jake have to sacrifice to appease you? What price did you force him to pay for your so-called love?"
Her smile was deadly. Teeth bared and poison dripping from her ruby lips as she spoke her following words carefully, "You don't know anything about love, you ungrateful disappointment."
I took a step closer, the old anger I’d usually kept held back by thick restraints … a fragile thread now held that rage back. "You're the one that doesn't know anything about love. A monster like you could never even fucking imagine what it's like to actually care… To actually love someone other than yourself." I smiled one void of all joy and filled only with a promise. A promise not just on Jake’s behalf but on my own… one my monster wouldn’t ever hear. "You've read my file, but do not make the mistake of thinking you know me. All of that is surface level. Every fucked up thing you’ve read about in Howard's stupid little papers is nothing compared to the shit that’s not there. You don't know the lengths I'll go to to protect the ones I care about."
Simone laughed, baring her teeth slightly. "Is that a threat?"
"Threat, promise, it's all the same to predators like you." I grabbed the bottle of Opus off the rack next to her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a bar to tend to."
All the way up the stairs, I could feel Simone’s hatred grow. There was no going back now, not that I’d ever want to. But, at least I could take some comfort in knowing I wouldn’t have to deal with the awkward small talk and fake requests of friendship anymore. I set the Opus next to Nicky and practically shoved my way past Olive. “I could have gotten that,” she said snarkily.
“Oh fuck off!” I shouted in the lowest tone I could, quickly shaking off the anger and returning to kissing the asses of the increasingly drunk patrons surrounding the bar.
When things finally began to slow, Nicky and I started closing down the bar, bidding our rich parasites guests farewell. I returned to the kitchen with a few plates and kindly handed them to Santos. "Crazy night, huh?"
"Yeah," I agreed, looking around at the drained faces in the kitchen. Even Isaac looked tired.
"Last desert, and then we're done!" Scott announced, reading off the final ticket and leading each area that wasn't needed in closing down for the night.
The light aroma of sweet peaches and fresh berries filled the air as they braised in the pan. Scott reached over and added a decent amount of rich amber liquor over the top of them, and the pan was set ablaze. A classic flambe. Rich, sweet, tart, everything that made a simple slice of plain cake taste heavenly.
Closing was one filled with tempered silence. Everyone was still on edge and thoroughly done with every minuscule amount of drama the night had been orchestrated with. Howard said nothing, and as soon as the dining room cleared of guests and the kitchen was shut down for the night, he walked into his office and closed the door. Simone left without a word to anyone, and with her gone, everyone else seemed to breathe a breath of fresh air. The locker room was packed with employees who all gossiped about the awful night.
Heather shook her head as she threw her shirt on. “Jake had the right idea skipping out tonight.”
Ari scoffed. “An idea that cost him his job.”
“Howard won’t fire him,” Heather argued. “Simone would raise hell if he even tried.”
“I don’t know,” Will interjected. “Did you see Howard tonight? I’ve never seen him that angry.”
I tried to drown them out, trying not to focus on anything that would potentially drag me down into the twisted thoughts that made me worry about Jake. Then, in the corner of my eye, I saw Ari handing out little pills. Sasha held out his hand, and she paused. “Thought you were done with these.”
The man rolled his eyes and plucked the pill out of her fingers with a bitter phrase in Russian. Everyone filed out, heading down to the bar to drown the night out in booze, everyone but Sasha. He sat on the old couch, holding the little pink pill between his fingers with a contemplating look.
“Want some company?” I asked, leaning against my locker.
He sighed and patted the seat next to him. “It’s a generous offer, little Tiger. But I don’t know if it’ll help now.”
It wasn’t the best idea, but it could help. I moved to Jake’s locker and opened it, pulling out his extra stash of cigarettes. “Wanna share one?”
Sasha smiled. “Of course.”
He lit the cigarette, taking a deep breath of the smoke as he set the pill down on the uneven coffee table in front of him. “You okay?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I have to be.”
“You don’t have to be right now,” I answered. “For the duration of this cigarette, I give you permission not to be okay.”
"I am homesick." He shook his head. "It feels like everyone I love there is sick or dying or being carted off to prison, and I…" He wiped away his tears. "I cannot go home."
"I'm sorry, Sasha." I sighed. "When my dad died, I felt like life was going to explode. I still feel that way sometimes. I know it can never compare to what you're going through, but I'm here whenever you need someone to not be okay with."
He chuckled and nodded to the pill. "So, what was it that got you into the filthy habit?"
"Well, I started with Adderall to try and achieve my mother's impossible standards."
Sasha nodded, breathing out the smoke and handing me the cigarette. "And then? How'd you go from the little babies to the big boys?"
I took a long drag, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the burn of the smoke in my lungs. "Oh, come on, baby girl, you know you want to try it." Then, with a shaky exhale, I shook my head, staring at the embers sparking in the burning edge with a tiny hope that the smoke would help keep the bitter taste out of my mouth as I answered, "His name was Tony."
"Ahh, I should have guessed it was a boy." Sasha breathed, wiggling his fingers for the cigarette again. "Was it love at first sight?"
My jaw clenched, and a wave of disgust and shame hit me in the chest. "Not for me."
The Russian tilted his head, taking in my stiffness. With a soft noise, he carefully stroked my cheek. "Well, if I know one thing from our time together, it is this; he did not deserve you, Tiger Bitch."
"Thank you," I whispered. "So, are you gonna take it?"
"No," he sighed, looking at the little pill. "I don't need it anymore." He flicked it into the sink and took hold of my hand, pressing a smokey kiss to my knuckles. "Thank you, my tiger."
"Thank you, my little Russian prince," I responded.
"So, tell me what happened between you and blondie."
"God, you guys are the worst gossip."
He shrugged. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll make up a story I think is fun.”
I laughed, the tension slowly easing out of my shoulders. “I don’t know which is worse.”
“My version,” he replied with a wicked grin. “Obviously.”
“You guys want to come to the bar tonight?” I asked, standing up and smiling down at him. “Ozzy’s pulling out the big gun tonight.”
“What is the big gun?”
“Karaoke machine.”
Sasha’s face gleamed as he jumped off the couch laughing. “You save us seats! I will rally the people!”
*
Jake downed the shot like his life depended on it, and the irrational part of him that the alcohol seemed to make louder argued that it did rely on it. After waking up on the bathroom floor and having another panic attack, clutching onto some stupid frog, he’d started drinking again. Once he ran out of beer at home and received more messages and calls from Simone, all pissed off and saying she’d had enough of his shit, he migrated to Home Bar, where he sat in front of the busty bartender and drank everything she put in front of him. Vivian smiled as she set down another drink. “Take it easy, tiger.”
He chuckled, giving her a nice view of his flirtatious smile, the one he’d used to sleep with her the first time, while he admired the way her boobs spilled out of her corset top. Tiger. The word rolled around in his head, conjuring up the image of Lena’s tattoo and bringing a genuine smile to his face. He swallowed the second shot, shaking his head as if the alcohol swishing around in his mouth would clear away the fond thoughts of the redheaded woman.
Someone gently tapped on his shoulder, drawing his blurry vision to the side where Tess stood. Jake blinked a few times, the image slowly becoming clearer and clearer until Olive’s stupid smile and big eyes looked at him with glee. “Hey,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”
“Well, here I am,” he replied, stretching his arms out with a tight grin.
“Everyone seemed to miss you at work today,” she continued.
He scoffed. “Yeah, right. You want me to fuck you, Olive?”
She looked taken aback for a second, her innocent little brain reeling at his forwardness. “I-I…” she stammered before taking a minute to regain her composure. She nodded. “Yeah… I do…”
Jake stood up, using the bar to steady himself as he grabbed her hand and pushed through the crowd toward the back booth. He sat down, adjusting himself in the poorly cushioned seat and looking at her. “Well, come on then.”
For a minute, he thought that would be the end of it. She certainly looked like she was going to turn tail and run, but for once since he’d met her, she’d surprised him. Olive straddled his lap and nervously looked down at him. “You don’t-”
“Just don’t talk,” he bit out, pulling her head down with one of his hands and messily pressing his lips to hers.
As he kissed her, Jake found himself thinking about Tess… the way she looked and even the way she sounded as she responded to his kiss and touch was too much like her. Tess had been one of the few people he didn’t plan on sleeping with when he’d rejected her the first time. That should have been the end of it, but then he’d gotten a call from Simone. Beneath Olive’s hand on his cheek, his jaw clenched. Simone had not so subtly told him to sleep with her. “She just needs to get it out of her system,” she’d said. “And maybe you need to get it out of yours.”
Jake approached the back waiter the next night, took her out to some shitty diner, and took her home. What was surprising was how much he enjoyed it. Tess was sweet and soft and everything he thought he wanted when he actually let himself imagine a future outside of 22West… and outside of Simone. He’d taken it more seriously than Simone had anticipated, which sent her into a spiral of worry. With Etienne and his bullshit, as well as Tess’ behavior toward her behind his back, Simone had turned to drinking all the time, even at work, something she still occasionally did but had improved since Tess’ departure.
That unsettled feeling began to drown out the buzz of the alcohol as Olive’s hands ran down his chest. The realization came a moment later. When he’d brought up the similarities to Tess, Simone's tone yesterday was the same one she’d had when she told him to sleep with her. That was what he’d seen and felt when she’d spoken to him at the bar. Simone wanted him to sleep with Olive… but why?
He pulled back and sucked in a deep breath of air as Olive’s dainty hands began undoing his belt. Jake tried to forget about Simone and everything else… tried to give in and let this happen. Maybe he did need this? Maybe that’s what Simone had been trying to tell him. His fingers ran through her hair, and his heart dropped. Brown, not red. Jake looked down at her round brown eyes as Olive tried to kiss him again. He grabbed her arms and not so nicely shoved her off of him into the booth before he stood, grabbed his cigarettes, and headed toward the door.
Olive yelled after him, but Jake's mind was made up. He didn't want brown hair between his fingers. He wanted red. He didn't want cold, pale, or dark eyes looking up at him, pupils blown wide with lust… He wanted that vibrant green that filled with every emotion she felt at any given moment. Jake didn't want to listen to Simone. He didn't want Tess or Olive. Jake wanted Lena.
*
Karaoke night at Ozzy’s was exactly what everyone needed after the night of god-awful service. Sasha and Ari commanded the stage as they belted out the words to some popular song and danced around on the stage. Quinn cheered Ari on at the front of the stage, looking up at her with a big smile, not-so-subtle kisses, and winks. Prue and Will bobbed along with the terrible rendition of the song, making plans to go see a movie. He blushed whenever she complimented his sign language. Everyone else was scattered around, standing at the bar for drinks or mingling in the crowd of people all here to have a good time.
I sat down in our booth and watched the front door, hopefully expecting Jake to come strolling in with his stupid hat and stupid face and stupid everything. But the longer I watched, the more obvious it became that he wasn’t coming, and that only made me feel more nervous about how I hadn’t heard from him since last night. Then, finally, Sasha and Ari finished their song and were met with boisterous cheers from the crowd. They hurried over to our table and sat down, chugging the glasses of water Ozzy had brought.
“Are you going to participate in the fun, Tiger Bitch?” Sasha asked with an arched brow.
“No,” I answered.
Quinn pulled herself away from Ari’s lips to boo at me. “Come on. You’re so good at it, though!”
Will leaned his head on top of Prue’s and smiled. “You a performer?”
“No.”
Quinn rolled her eyes and pulled Ari’s lips back to hers. Prue shook her head a little, pulling back to talk to Will. “She’s just being modest.”
"You should go on," he encouraged. "I'm sure Sasha would join you!"
Sasha grinned. "I would if our tiger is content to play second fiddle!"
Heather laughed. "I think you'd be second fiddle in that match-up."
"I am always the star," Sasah replied, giving Heather a look. "Russians don't play second fiddle."
As I watched my newly grown group of friends argue over who was born for stardom, I couldn't help but focus on how my oldest friends quickly lost themselves in their newfound love. I couldn't help but feel that little green monster bite me again. I wanted that. I wanted the sweet puppy love that Prue and Will had and the passionate one Quinn and Ari shared. It had been years since I'd felt the softness of romantic love. Sex had been fine, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't what they had. Dom tapped my shoulder, pulling my attention back from the short pity party, and leaned down. “Hey, one of my boys just told me your guy was outside making a scene.”
“Jake?” I asked a dumb sense of relief washing over me.
He nodded. “I figured I’d let you handle it rather than me or my boys. You know, spare the kid a black eye.”
“Thanks, Dom,” I said, standing up and quickly approaching the front door. The bikers were crowded around two people facing each other, one of them being Jake. He was clearly not himself as he egged on the biker, trying to get him to fight him by the look of it. Finally, the biker stepped out of the way of Jake’s sluggish hit, and he fell to the ground, laughing.
“This guy’s fucking nuts,” one of them said as I pushed through the crowd.
"Hey, tough guy," I said, kneeling to get a better look at him.
Jake smiled widely, his hand reaching out to run up my arms. "Lena," he breathed out. "I was lookin’ for you."
"I heard," I said, pressing a hand to his face. He was hot, leaning into my chilled touch with a content sigh.
"You're so soft."
Looking up at the bikers, I waved off their concern. "I've got him. Thank you, guys." I grabbed Jake's arm and carefully started pulling him to his feet. "Let's take a quick walk."
He walked as much as he could but leaned heavily on me as we headed toward The Ring. The abrasive smell of booze, cocaine, and throw-up burnt my nose. “I threw up on my shirt,” he mumbled.
“I see that,” I answered, struggling with the door. “Are you feeling a little better, though?”
“Yeah,” he said, curling a finger around my hair. “You’re here.”
Patrick’s eyebrows shot up as I pulled him into the building. “A little help?”
He wrapped Jake’s arm around his shoulders and took most of the weight. “Taking him upstairs?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty out of it.”
“Pete’s gonna love this.”
The stairs leading to the apartment were the hardest part as Jake seemingly decided he was done with our walk and stopped moving his feet. Patrick had to grab hold of him and hoist him up each step, nearly falling through the door as I opened it. Peter sat at the table, sipping a mug of tea or something hot with a book in his free hand as we clamored around each other and Jake.
Patrick hit his knee on the side of the doorframe and abruptly dropped his hold of Jake, sending the half-coherent man falling forward into my chest. Jake rubbed his cheek against my skin and hummed, perfectly content. Peter slowly set his cup down and leaned back in his chair. “How was Ozzy’s?”
“Good,” Patrick answered after letting loose a slew of curse words. “Picked up a friend.”
“I see that.”
“Can we not do this right now?” I huffed out, slowly tilting back beneath Jake’s weight. “He’s about to take me down.”
Peter smirked. “I think he’d enjoy that.”
“Peter!”
Between the three of us, we managed to drag Jake to my room and flop him down on my bed, where he curled his face into a pillow and breathed in deeply, mumbling something about cherries. I sucked in a breath of air. “I’ll go get the extra blankets,” Peter offered.
“I’ve got the upchuck bowl,” Patrick followed.
I carefully helped Jake lean forward to slip his jacket off and take hold of the bottom of his shirt. “Hey, I’m gonna take your shirt off, okay?”
He smirked. “You can do whatever you want to me, princess.”
“Okay…” I slid his shirt up, carefully avoiding the splotches of throw-up that would no doubt stain the material. Jake sucked in a deep breath every time my skin brushed against his. His hands slid down to my hips, holding me against him as his eyes trailed down my face before I moved the shirt over his head. “There. Now let’s get your shoes off.”
He reluctantly let go of my hips so I could turn around and try tugging the shoes off his heavy feet. His fingers ran through my hair. "Mmm, red…" he mumbled. "That's better." I giggled, tugging off his shoes, pausing slightly when his fingers trailed down, lazily dragging along the curve of my tattoo. I turned my head, and he looked up at me, moving his fingers to my cheek. "You're beautiful."
“And you’re really, really out of it,” I said, desperately trying to ignore how his words… his soft eyes made my heart flutter. Jake smiled, soft and full of admiration, ultimately forcing me to clear my throat and stand up. “I’ll have the guys toss this in the wash.”
My brothers were already by the door, holding two thick blankets and a giant bowl our family used when someone got sick. They shoved the things into my arms and peeked into my room. "Are you okay with this?" Peter asked softly. "Patrick, or I can take care of him."
"I've got it, Pete," I assured him with a smile.
Patrick ruffled my hair. "We're one holler away if you need us, little sister."
I tossed the blankets in my armchair by the door and set the bowl on top of them, combing my hair down and lovingly flipping them off before turning and closing the door. My bed was empty. "Jake?" The bathroom door creaked slightly, and a light commotion echoed in the bathroom. I carefully pushed it open to find Jake lying shirtless in the bathtub. His eyes screwed shut as he tried to steady his breathing. "Jake?"
"I just need a minute," he said breathlessly. Then, frustrated and embarrassed, his face tightened.
"That's okay," I said slowly, standing next to the tub. "There any room for one more?"
Jake looked up at me for a minute before silently sitting up and making space for me to climb into the tub with him. It was tight and uncomfortable, but I could tell that having me close helped him relax. "This is fucking ridiculous."
"Yeah, I've always said they need to make bathtubs bigger."
He chuckled. "Not that." Gesturing to himself, he scoffed. "Me. I'm… I'm being fucking stupid."
"No, you aren't," I assured him, resting my chin on my knees. "If it works, it's not stupid."
I thought he was going to laugh again, but instead, he made a strange noise. "You know, I used to lay in the bathtub at Simone's parent's house and hold my breath until I felt like I was going to pass out." The confession was quiet but focused. His tense posture didn't shift as he continued, "I wanted to feel what she did… Wanted to know if my mom suffered when she drowned." He shook his head as if he was trying to keep certain memories from taking root. "When I was a bit older, I added water - almost accidentally drowned myself before Simone found me. She was livid. Dragged me out of the bath and screamed at me for being selfish and stupid. And that was when she told me the truth." He took deep breaths as his face twisted into an expression of anger and guilt. "It wasn't an accident. My mom… She walked into the water, and she chose to die."
I forced myself to stay calm, though the new information made my own guilt about Jake's involvement with my trauma rage inside me. This isn't about me. This is about him. I reminded myself. I wouldn't force my guilt on him, not when it wasn't his fault I felt that way, not when he needed me at this moment. "I'm sorry, Jake. That… That doesn't sound like it was easy."
His eyes met mine as a tear escaped his tight hold. "What did I do? What did I do to make her do that?" Oh, Jake… He shook his head, laughing quietly. "I know I'm an insufferable asshole… I know I'm annoying, selfish, and manipulative… But I just…." All I could hear was Simone. This was her voice in his head, her voice telling him it was his fault, that he was the problem.
"Listen to me," I instructed softly as I moved in the small tub, practically laying on top of him as I took hold of his face. "It wasn't your fault. None of it." He started to shake his head again, but I held firm. "You are not annoying or selfish or manipulative. You are a human being… One that is an asshole sometimes, but you just so happen to be one of the nicest assholes I've ever met."
"You don't really think that," he insisted.
"I told you about my mom," I countered. "I told you about my very impressive criminal record. If I wanted to lie to you, Jake, I would've done it by now."
He closed his eyes, leaning into my hands for a minute before quietly asking, "Why is it so easy with you?"
"Must be my unparalleled charisma."
Jake laughed, bright blue eyes staring up at me, free of his usual restrictions. I could see everything he felt and realized why he always forced himself to look so grumpy. Those blue eyes studied my face before moving to my hair as he lifted a hand to run his fingers through it. "I never thought I'd get this attached to you." He shook his head. "You were supposed to be easy… A quick fling to make me feel better."
I refrained from laughing. "Do I not make you feel better?"
"You do," he admitted. "You make me feel like myself."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?"
Another tear rolled down his cheek. "It's been a long time since I've been me."
I brushed it away with my thumbs and smiled. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I really like you. The real you.”
With a smile, he nodded. “I really like you too.”
“Come on,” I gestured toward my room. “Let’s get you back in bed so you can sleep this off and wake up to that hangover.” With some help, he was back on his feet, and clumsily we made it back to my room, where he collapsed on my bed and watched me as I moved around the room to grab the blankets and bowl. I set it down on his side and smiled. “Just in case you can’t reach the bathroom again.”
Unfolding the blanket, I spread it out over the top of him before grabbing my pajamas and changing quickly in the bathroom. Jake was still awake when I got back, watching the door for me. I sat on the empty side of the bed, gathered my pillow, and got ready to head to Patrick or Peter’s room for the night. Jake turned to look at me over his shoulder, and quietly he said, "You still owe me one.”
"I'm not kissing you," I replied with a shake of my head. "Especially not when you're this fucked up."
Jake looked nervous as he turned his head to look at me with those big watery eyes. "I wasn't gonna ask for that."
I finished taking my shoes off, tossing them in the far corner of my room. "What then?"
"Will you…" He paused. "Will you just… Hold me?"
It was such a simple request, one that was filled with years of vulnerable needs that had been pushed aside or ignored. I could see the doubt in his eyes as he waited for me to deny him this comfort as everyone else had before. He wouldn't get that denial tonight, not from me. I readjusted on the bed, fluffing my pillow before turning on my side toward him, carefully wrapping my arms around his bare, tense back. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah…" He whispered, reaching up to gently hold my hand, pressing it to the heartbeat that pounded in his chest. "It's perfect."
I leaned over and kissed his cheek before I curled up again and set my forehead between his shoulder blades. “Goodnight, Jake.”
He didn’t say it back, just yawned and mumbled my name as he slowly relaxed into the soft bedding. The longer I lay there, pressed up against his warm skin, the more unavoidable the truth became. I was comfortable… I felt happy and safe alone in a room with Jake. My fingers gently traced the dark ink around his lower bicep, a thick band of black, before moving to the long-stemmed flowers that intricately lined the skin of his upper arm. As I traced the lines of his tattoos, I quietly admitted to myself that I liked Jake… Liked him more than I anticipated.
"I never thought I'd get this attached to you either,” I whispered before closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep, holding onto Jake with the silent promise that I’d still be there when he woke up.
*
Irish folk music blared through the walls, pulling me out of my blissful sleep, curled into the warmth on the right-hand side of the bed. With a frustrated groan, I rolled over and walked to the door, opening it to peek out at the two shirtless idiots that were arguing over who got the shower first. “TURN THE MUSIC DOWN!”
“JESUS!” Patrick yelled back. “Don’t gotta yell, girly.”
“Turn. It. Down.” I pointed my finger at Peter. “Don’t make me get my gloves.”
Peter chuckled. “Relax, sis, I’ll have him turn it down.”
Turning back, I slammed my door and flopped back onto my bed, resting my head against the lean muscle of Jake’s chest. My eyes shot open. Jake's chest? I lifted my head and looked down at him, those blue eyes shining in the sunlight as he looked up at me with a smirk. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I said, still slightly dazed as the events of last night came back to me in a rush. “How are you feeling?”
“Good, all things considered,” he answered, eyes drifting down to look at my sleepwear. “I’ve got a few questions, though.”
I scratched my head, sitting up to give him some space. “I’m guessing the first one is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck am I doing in your bed’?”
He nodded. “Something like that, yeah.”
“Well, I don’t have a full account of where you were yesterday, but at around ten, you showed up outside Ozzy’s and tried to fight a biker. So I brought you up to Patrick and Peter’s - my dad’s old place - and put you to bed.”
“Where’d my shirt go?”
“In the wash,” I answered with a smirk. “You threw up on it somewhere along your journey.”
He sighed. “That’s a new low, even for me.”
I shrugged. “Eh, it could’ve been worse.” After a minute of Irish folk music playing in the background, I picked at my nails. “So… how much do you remember about last night?”
“Not a lot,” he said. “Why? Did I do something embarrassing?”
“Depends on what you consider embarrassing.”
“Well, my pants are still on, so that’s a good sign.”
I met his curious gaze. “Do you remember climbing into my bathtub?”
Jake’s smile faded as he nodded. “I remember that yeah.”
Good, I breathed a sigh of relief and nudged him. “Do you remember practically inhaling my pillows and calling me beautiful?”
He rolled his eyes. “You can’t blame me for the pillows. They’re soft, and they…” Then, pausing, he shook his head, committing to whatever words he held back. “They smell like you.”
“I smell like me, too,” I retorted. “And you’re not constantly trying to inhale me.”
“I would,” he replied, pulling his arms behind his head to lounge. “That cherry vibe you’ve got really does it for me.”
I shoved his knee. “Weirdo.”
“As for calling you beautiful, I hardly think that’s a surprise.” His eyes looked me up and down. “You are beautiful. And you know it, which is kind of hot.”
Standing, I shook my head at him. “Shower’s through there, though my idiot brothers will likely be hogging all the hot water. Any preferences for breakfast?”
Jake sat up fully, eyes glued to my exposed legs. “I believe I was promised shitty eggs a while ago.”
“Shitty eggs it is,” I replied. “I’ll grab your shirt for you and leave it on my bed.”
Patrick and Peter turned to look at me when I closed my bedroom door. Peter nodded to the full coffee pot and smiled. “Figured you’d be out here pretty quick this morning.”
Patrick sipped at his mug. “How’s your little boyfriend?”
“He’s fine,” I answered, grabbing a pan and the eggs out of the fridge.
“Ohhh making him breakfast too?” Patrick added. “How domestic!”
I slapped his back with the spatula. “Shut up and behave yourself! He had a rough night. The last thing he needs is you two morons making this weird.”
Peter looked up from the paper. “We’ll be perfect, gentlemen.”
Patrick stood next to the bathroom door. “Oi! Don’t run the sink while the showers on, or you’ll be tapping ice off that pecker!”
My head hit the dryer as I groaned. “I fucking hate you two.” I grabbed Jake’s shirt out of the dryer and put it on my bed.
Cooking was the only part of the morning I enjoyed. It was simple and straightforward, with the room to be as good as you made it. Breakfast was something I could control, one of the few things in life that only changed when I did so. The eggs were simple enough, an old staple from living with my dad and brothers before going back to my mom. Dad always called them "shitty eggs" though it was arguable that they only tasted shitty when he cooked them.
Having a background in food, I took on most meals after I came to live here permanently. That was when "shitty eggs" turned into "omelets". Dad still cooked his horrible breakfast for me when I'd drained myself on a bender or just had a bad night. Shitty eggs came back into use after he died, and Patrick and I had to keep things afloat while Peter went through chemo.
The shower turned off, and a few moments later, Jake came out of my room, fixing his shirt and jacket with a blank expression I now saw through. He was nervous. Clearing his throat, he looked around, taking in the small space of bright colors and thrifted furniture. Patrick broke the silence, lifting his mug, "Good morning."
"Morning," Jake replied stiffly.
Peter smiled from behind his book and gestured to the seat across from him. "Breakfast should be ready any minute."
Jake sat down, setting his hands on top of the table and tapping his fingers against the old wood. “This is a nice place.”
“It’s small,” Patrick said. “But it’s got a lot of history.”
“I can imagine. How long have you all lived here?”
“It’s been in the family for years, so pretty much forever,” Peter answered. “Well, except for Patrick. He came to live with us when we were… I don’t know… eight, nine, maybe?”
Jake’s brows furrowed slightly. “You’re not related?”
Patrick shook his head, his face tighter as he worked past the slightly uncomfortable question. “Nah, I lived on the street before Jack found me. The orphanage didn’t exactly appeal to my tastes.”
“Both your parents died then?”
“Don’t know,” Patrick admitted quietly, looking down at the coffee swirling in his mug. “Never asked.”
Sensing the rising tension in the burly man, I turned the stovetop off and plated the eggs, serving them quickly and clapping my hand on his shoulder. “Family ain’t always blood.”
That brought a smile to his face as he looked up at me and nodded. “Family’s more than blood.”
“Alright, enough talking. Eat before your food gets cold,” I instructed everyone, taking my seat across from Patrick beside Jake.
He looked at the plate of eggs and then at me, “These are supposed to be shitty?”
I laughed. “It’s just what we call eggs around here.”
“Shitty eggs were dad's specialty,” Peter mused with a grin. “Man could cook any meat you gave him but would always manage to fuck up the eggs.”
“I liked his eggs,” Patrick insisted.
“Yeah, well, you were a kiss ass.”
He flipped me off and used his fork to shovel the food into his mouth as quickly as possible. Patrick was a notorious inhaler of anything edible. It was most likely a residual habit from his time living on the streets, but it became rather endearing. Finally, he gulped down his coffee and stood, clearing his dishes and giving me a kiss on the head. “You’re on Ozzy duty today. Try and be quick. He’s getting sneaky about showing up early.”
“Stubborn old goat,” I replied into my eggs.
Patrick gave Jake a pat on the arm as he passed and rubbed Peter’s bald head. “Have a good day, misfits!”
Jake ate slowly, being far quieter than I expected him to be. Peter kept looking up at him every few minutes, watchful and a little bit amused. “What are your plans for today, Pete?”
“A whole lot of nothing,” he answered. “I gotta feed the alley cats in a few minutes, though.”
“You and your strays,” I mumbled. “How many came last time?”
“Twenty-three.”
I smiled. “Maybe you can start your own show. The Cat Man.”
He laughed. “You’re hilarious.” Then, gathering his dishes and disappearing into his room to get the bag of cat goodies he’d kept on hand, he stole a chunk of my eggs off my plate and headed toward the door, “Thanks for breakfast, sis!”
“You’re welcome, asshole!”
The door closed, and the quiet buzz of the city waking up outside was all that remained. When Jake and I had finished our food, I took our dishes and started washing them while he looked around the apartment more carefully than he had before. He picked up picture frames and leafed through books left lying around. It was weird having him here, a place that had been - and still was - one of my safe havens from the world outside. But as weird as it was, it felt… natural… like Jake belonged here just as much as I did.
I was surprised when he didn’t ask any questions, though maybe he wasn’t feeling particularly curious after the night he had. “So…” I started, “What happened yesterday?”
He shrugged. “It’s a bit of a blur, to be honest.”
“I… I was worried about you.” He turned his head, eyes meeting mine for only a moment before he looked away. “We all were.”
With a scoff, he plucked a book off a table. “I doubt that.”
“So it may have mainly been me, but still.” I refocused on the dishes as I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” Jake answered. “I think I did enough whining last night.”
I turned to him and shook my head. “That’s not what that was.”
His smile wasn’t real but rather a visual defense he put up to try and breeze past the uncomfortable topic. “Crying in your bathtub over my dead mom sounds an awful lot like whining to me.”
“Then you need a new definition of whining.” I placed the dishes on the rack to dry and leaned back against the counter. “It was brave of you to admit all of that to me. Even if you don’t think so.”
"I'm sorry for putting all this on you," he said after a long moment of silence. The shame and guilt lace his words as well as his eyes.
"Don't apologize for that. Not to me."
He smiled a little at my use of his own words against him. “Thanks.”
“So… you have plans today?” I asked.
“Not really,” he admitted. “Unless avoiding Simone’s phone calls counts as plans.”
“Is she that upset?” Part of me felt gladdened by that fact… glad that he’d sought me out and not her, but I forced myself to let that go as Jake looked up worriedly.
“She’s livid. I haven’t pulled something like this in a while, and let’s just say, after everything I put her through a few months ago, this is kind of the last straw with her. Howard too.” He looked back down at his hands as he shrugged. “Apparently, I have behavioral issues.”
With a laugh, I made a face. “Behavioral issues? That doesn’t sound like you at all!” Jake only rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Well, I’ve got some errands to run today, but you’re more than welcome to tag along.”
He considered my offer for a minute. “You sure I won’t annoy you?”
“Oh, I’m positive you will,” I answered with a smirk. “But I don’t mind.”
“Okay,” he said. “What’s first?”
“I’m going to get dressed, so why don’t you head down to the gym and wait? Patrick will probably keep you pretty entertained.”
He nodded, following my advice and heading down the narrow steps to The Ring while I headed back to my room. I washed my face and brushed my teeth before digging through my drawers to find the right size of clothes. I really need to clean in here. Pulling a pair of jeans on and throwing on the first t-shirt I could find, I moved back to the bathroom to quickly pull my messy hair into two simple braids on either side of my head, combing down the shorter strands that refused to cooperate with a bit of water.
The lights in the gym flipped on as I descended the steps. I could hear Patrick’s loud voice coaching, and as I rounded the corner, I could see Jake standing in front of a punching bag with a pair of gloves on and a curious glint in his eyes. Leaning back against the wall, I watched the two of them for a minute. Pat showed him a few practice punches, moving through each step slowly so Jake could watch and learn the proper technique. His fists hit the bag in quick strikes, landing exactly where intended in seconds.
Jake did his best, throwing out slower punches and focusing more on the technique behind them rather than hitting as hard as possible. The last hit rattled the chains holding the bag in place. Patrick hummed. “Not bad. If you’re really lookin to learn a thing or two, Lil miss Leanin’ Lena could surely teach you.”
I scrunched up my nose and stepped toward them. “I hate it when you call me that.”
“It’s cute,” Patrick insisted.
“Not as cute as Prancin’ Pattie.”
He pointed at me with a deep glare. “It’s Powerful Pattie, now!”
I nudged Jake. “Come on, tough guy, we’ve got work to do.” He gave his gloves back to Patrick and followed me toward the alley door. “See you later, Prancin’!”
Dodging the rag he tossed my way, I pulled the old door open and led Jake out to the alley. Peter was a way down, sitting on the ground with bowls of cat food neatly lined up along the wall and about thirty cats purring and rubbing themselves on him. He waved to us as we made our way across the alley to Jack and Ozzy’s back door.
“Isn’t it a bit early to be opening the bar?” He asked as we moved down the stairs into the dark space.
Flipping on the lights, I answered, “We’re not opening it. Patrick and I alternate helping Oz every morning. He doesn’t know, so keep it quiet, but he’s not getting any younger, and he gets messier every day, so we organize the ledgers and make sure he can find everything he needs to and move some boxes around, and unpack some things. You know, the usual.”
Jake chuckled, sitting and watching me as I moved around behind the bar. “That sounds like a lot of work.”
“It’s not so bad,” I assured him. “Besides, I know Oz would do it for me if the roles were reversed.”
“I’m pretty sure you could get a homeless person to do this for you if you really wanted.”
I grinned at him. “Because I’m so lovable?”
“I was gonna say convincing,” he replied. “But lovable works too, I guess.”
“Well, get up and help me unbox these cases,” I replied, nodding to the boxes shoved off to the far end of the bar.
He stepped around, taking my place as I moved to the back office and flipped the light on. Ozzy’s office was always a mess, but it was more organized chaos than anything. He had specific stacks of papers dedicated to bills and health inspections, and inventory. The one thing he always seemed to lose track of was his reading glasses, so Patrick and I got him a container to put them in and painted it the ugliest, brightest yellow we could find. He still lost them, but it wasn’t as often now.
I could hear Jake unboxing and stacking the alcohol while I tidied a space in the center of Ozzy’s things and staged everything he’d need to look over for the day so he’d find it easily but not suspect mine or Patrick’s involvement. Ozzy loved having us help out around the bar, but when it came to the little things like bills and paperwork, things he contributed to his share of work within our odd little family, he was insistent on doing it himself. Hence the sneaking in and secrecy.
After the office looked just right, I rejoined Jake in the front. His eyes lit up as he admired the back wall of every alcohol Ozzy kept on the shelf. He’d gotten through one case and had just opened the other that was filled with more glassware. Side by side, we polished the glasses when Jake suddenly chuckled. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” he replied with a huge grin. “Just remembering that night you stayed late so Nicky could go to his kid's recital or whatever.”
“Oh god,” I grumbled.
“What was it you said?” He asked through his laughter. “You can flirt with me all you want, but that’s as far as you’re gonna get?”
I bit my lip and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
He set his glass up, leaning against the bar. “And here we are. Having shared a bed not once but twice. Having seen each other half naked and at our lowest.” With a thoughtful hum, he looked around the empty bar. “Who would’ve thought?”
“Not me,” I answered, turning to grab another glass to hide the blush that crept up my neck. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t exactly take that well.”
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “Can’t blame me, though.” He gestured to me. “Look at you. Anyone would be a bit grumpy after getting rejected by you.”
“I hardly rejected you.” I shook my head and watched him polish the last glass, focusing far too closely on his fingers and the way his muscles moved when he held the glass just a little tighter. “I just didn’t want you to think your hard work flirting with me was going to get you anywhere.”
He narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “It got me pretty far.”
I grabbed hold of the empty boxes and rolled my eyes at him. “Whatever you say, grump.”
*
After finishing up at Ozzy’s, Jake went to the store with me. It was not at all how I’d imagined my day going, but there we were, walking side by side down the isles working through the list Peter had given me. Placing the cat food in our small cart, Jake looked up at me and asked, “So Patrick really lived on the streets?”
“Yeah,” I answered, dropping another item into the cart. “He doesn’t like to talk about it much, but from what I know, his parents dropped him off at the fire station and just vanished. He was in the orphanage for a while, and then he moved to foster care, but you’ve met Pat he’s… he’s a lot. After another family ditched him, he just kind of ran away.”
“And your dad just took him in?”
I nodded. “Pat would use the gym to sleep during the winters. My dad caught him a few times before he finally got the chance to invite him upstairs for a warm meal. After that, he just kind of… stayed. My dad adopted him when he was thirteen.”
Jake shook his head. “I never would’ve guessed it. The two of you look related, and you certainly act like you are.”
“Family’s more than blood,” I repeated. “Patrick might not be my blood, but he’s my family. We bicker, fight, and poke fun at each other, but we also help each other with anything and everything without judgment.”
That last bit made Jake’s eyes scrunch up. It shouldn’t have surprised me that the notion of no judgments was something he’d have a hard time believing. After all, he grew up with Simone, the queen of judging. “Oh, pass me a thing of mustard,” he said after checking the list again. I leaned back and grabbed one of the bottles, handing it to him so he could toss it in the cart. “Thanks.”
We got back to the apartment around noon, and the gym was in full swing. Patrick coached from the side of one of the rings, holding his hand out to give me the money for his share of the groceries and taking a water bottle from one of the bags. While Jake and I put things away, my stomach growled. “Hey, do you like middle eastern food?”
“I guess,” he replied, shutting the fridge. “Don’t think I’ve had much of it.”
“Wanna grab some lunch? I know a pretty good spot.”
Nana’s wasn’t too busy when we walked across the street and into the front door. Her place was small and only really well known among the locals of the neighborhood, which was another reason we all loved it so much. The first person I saw was Dom, sitting in his corner with a few of his boys talking business. The second was Nana, though I didn’t see her so much as the headscarf covering my eyes as she tugged me into her tight embrace.
“Habibi!” she cheered as she pulled back, smiling warmly, and she pinched my cheeks, fussing over my thin frame before finally taking notice of Jake. Her eyes grew nearly as wide as the rims of her glasses as she looked back at me with a raised brow. “And who might this strapping young man be?”
I smiled, carefully pulling Jake forward so Nana could devour him. “Nana, this is Jake. Jake, this is Aya Nazari.”
“Please call me Nana!” The old woman insisted. With raised brows, she turned back to me and whispered, too loudly, “He’s very handsome.”
Jake smirked as he pretended not to hear her. “Think you can squeeze us in for lunch?”
“Of course!” She shouted, shoving both of us toward a table closest to the front. “How hungry are you? Just a little or a lot?” I opened my mouth to answer, but she waved me off, “I’ll just bring you all your favorites!”
“Nana!” I tried, but the old woman was already gone to the back of the kitchen.
Jake settled into his seat with raised brows. “Your grandma is quick.”
I sighed. “Yeah, prepare yourself for at least five full meals.”
“I knew I shoulda worn my sweat pants,” he teased, eyes turning to the diner to look around.
“You do that everywhere you go?” I asked, finally letting my curiosity win out.
“What?”
“That serious study you do of every new place.” I did my best to recreate it. “You do it everywhere, or are the places I bring you just really interesting?”
Jake shrugged, looking around with a smile. “You do bring me to some pretty interesting places. But, yeah, I do it everywhere. You can get a lot of information from people’s spaces. It helps me get a sense of what to expect.”
“Not a surprise guy, I take it?”
“No,” he chuckled. “I hate surprises.”
I nodded in agreeance. “Agreed. Surprises suck.”
Nana brought water to our table with a bright smile. “Abdul is working on your food.” She pulled up a chair and settled in next to us. “So, tell me about yourself, Jake.”
“There’s not much to tell,” he answered.
“Nonsense!” Nana insisted. “If my Lena is with you, you must be special!” She pinched my cheek. “She has an eye for good souls.”
Abdul shouted from the back, and Nana sighed, standing up to shout back at him. I cleared my throat with a sip of water. “Sorry about her. She’s kind of nosey.”
He kept looking around with a faint smile on his lips. “Old people usually are.”
Lunch with Jake proved to be an interesting thing. He didn’t open up much more about his night or what led him to try to fight the gang outside of Jack and Ozzy’s, but he opened up about small things. He loved food and art and collecting things like rocks. So when he brought up his photography, I leaned forward, practically landing in the food Nana put in front of me. “You have a camera?”
“Yeah,” he said, taking another bite of his food. “Is that impressive?”
“Yes!” I smiled wider. “You’ll have to show me some of your pictures sometime.”
Jake leaned forward, cocky attitude and wicked gleaming eyes watching me with glee. “What’s in it for me?”
I shrugged. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“You’re into photography?”
“Painting,” I corrected.
He laughed. “A cook, a boxer, and an artist? You, Lena Harrow, are probably the most confusing and contradictory woman I’ve ever met.”
Raising my brows, I tilted my head, mulling over the title with joy. “I like the sound of that.”
When we finally gathered our things to go, Nana slid a pile of boxes onto the counter. “You are out and about, yes?”
“Yeah, what do you need, Nana?”
“Will you take these to Prue and Quinn?” She asked. “Abdul’s back is flaring up again, so he cannot walk all that way.”
Grabbing the boxes, I nodded. “Say no more. We’ve got good backs, so it should be pretty easy.”
The old woman wove around the boxes Jake now held, hugged him tightly, and said a few words in Arabic before pulling back and squeezing his cheek. "Don't be a stranger!" She turned to me and patted my cheek. "You bring him back next time! Both of you are so thin, wasting away!"
“Have a good night, Nana!” I replied, quickly moving through the door Jake held open for me. “Alright. Prue’s this way, and Quinn will be a street or so down from her.”
The sky had turned a beautiful shade of light orange as the sun had just started to disappear behind the tall buildings. Jake and I walked the block and a half to the small tattoo shop where Prue worked. “Didn’t know Prue was a tattoo artist,” Jake mused, admiring the neon signs.
“Where do you think I got all my ink?” I asked, pushing the door open with my hip. “Prue’s the only one I trust to get a tattoo from around here.”
Jake’s eyes skimmed down to my arm. “Well, if you’re an example of her talent, I’d say it's safe to assume she's the best in the business.”
I beamed at the compliment and smiled even wider. Prue’s chair was in the back, where she sat leaning over one of Dom’s boys, focused on his leg. Katie, the apprentice that ran the front desk, smiled at me.“Nana’s?” I nodded, and she extended her hands over the counter. “Gimmegimmegimme!”
She took her box and groaned at the full aroma of spices. “Does Prue have time to eat?”
“She should,” the girl replied, ripping open the plastic holding her silverware. “Last I checked, she only had a few more spots to finish, so she should be on touch-ups right now.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Katie.”
Katie looked back up, this time her eyes meeting Jakes as she swallowed a large bite of food and cleared her throat. A blush tinted her cheeks as she smiled sheepishly at him. “Uhh… Hi…”
Jake ate it up, smiling with a tilt of his head. “Hey.”
She looked away, holding in a giggle. “Make yourselves comfortable, I guess.” Once Jake turned away from her, she looked at me with wide eyes and a not-at-all-subtle whisper, “Oh my god, I think I’m pregnant now!” Jake glanced over his shoulder, and she squeaked, closing her mouth tightly. “Are you and him…?” She signed, making a crude gesture for fucking.
“No.” I signed back.
Katie raised her eyebrows. “Are you planning on…?” She made the same gesture again.
I rolled my eyes and turned away from her, heading down toward Prue’s station. Jake followed close behind as I stopped short of her to make sure I didn’t startle her and mess her up. Ryker, the man in the chair and one of Dom’s most trusted “employees,” smiled and nodded to me. “Lena! Long time no see!”
“Good to see you’re tastes,” I gestured to the skull tattoo, “Havent changed, Ry.”
He shrugged. “You know me, all about that hardcore shit.”
I laughed. “Yeah. Hows the pain compare to the mommy tattoo you have on your ass?”
“Oh fuck you!”
Prue looked up, taking note of Ryker’s mouth moving before she turned and smiled up at me. “LENA!” She shouted, setting her tools down to free her hands. “What’s up?”
“Lunch.” I nodded to Jake, who held the other containers of food in his hands with an awkward smile.
She made a sound of glee, hopping up out of her chair and giving Jake only seconds to resituate the food before she wrapped her arms around his middle, holding her gloved hands away from him with an equally loud, “JAKE!”
He glanced at me with a chuckle as he gave her a pat on the back. “Hey… how’s it goin’?”
Reading his lips, she smiled wider. “Good,” she said, pulling back. “He’s running errands with you?”
I shrugged. “It’s been a weird morning.”
“That’s so fucking cute!” She scrunched up her nose and squealed. “Give me one second. I just need to clean him up and wrap his knee.”
As she turned back to her work, Jake smiled at me with a raised brow. “Seems like she likes me.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “You tend to have that effect on people when you’re not being a dick.”
“Good to know,” he replied, clearly pleased with my answer and the way Katie kept leaning over the counter to admire his ass.
Once Prue finished, she sat behind the counter and dug into her food. “Are you guys staying?”
“We’ve gotta get this food to Quinn.”
“Tell that bitch I said hi!” She replied with a big grin. “Oh, and ask her what time we’re going dress shopping.”
“Oh god, that’s right,” I whined. “I’ll ask.”
Prue swallowed her food, wiped her mouth, and gave Jake another hug. “Bye, Jake.”
He waved, already migrating toward the door. “See ya.”
“God, he’s cute when he’s nervous!” Prue giggled. “I’ll be expecting a full rundown of what the hell you two have been getting up to today.”
“Whatever. Enjoy your food.” I signed back following Jake. “Sorry about her. She’s a very touchy person.”
Jake agreed, his hands hanging closer to his sides as he walked. “It’s alright. I was more concerned with her assistant.”
I laughed. “Katie’s sweet, but she’s not very good at the whole admiring from afar thing.”
“Admiring?” He raised his brows and grinned.
“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t notice her checking you out.”
He made a noise, slowly drifting closer to me until our shoulders pressed together as we walked, his blue eyes boring down into mine. “Are you jealous, princess?”
I scoffed. “I hardly need to be.”
“Oh?”
“Admit it, I could have you anytime I wanted you,” I answered, eyes instinctually looking away from his to focus on his soft lips.
“You think it’d be that easy?”
“Well, wouldn’t it?” I asked, batting my eyelashes as I looked back up at him.
Jake shook his head, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment. “I like to think I’d give you a little trouble.”
Tilting my head, I smiled. “Only a little?”
He cursed under his breath as I stepped ahead, leaving him behind me to check out my ass as I walked. The strip club wasn’t far from Prue’s shop, and it was always a place people could find fairly easily due to the intensely bright lights and the thumping music. Once we got close enough, I slowed down to let Jake catch up to me and advised, “Keep your hands in your pockets.”
Jake scoffed. “Think I can’t control myself around a few strippers?”
“No,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m more concerned you’ll lose your wallet. Half of the girls working here around lunchtime are some of the best pickpockets in the city.”
“I mean, a nice pair of tits to the face would be quite the distraction.” He agreed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.
The club, called Busty's, bumped with lively music as we entered. It was relatively quiet. Daytime wasn't exactly when the stripping business was booming. Quinn would be in the dressing room, doing her extensive routine to get ready for her shift tonight. I nodded to the bouncer up front by the counter, and he nodded back. "Quinn's in the back. Any of that for me?"
I pulled the smallest box from Jake's hand. "Nana said this one has extra love in it."
"That woman is a saint!" He cried, accepting the food with a smile. Pointing his fork at Jake, his eyes narrowed. "This one with you?"
"Yep," I looked back at Jake with a smile. "I know he looks like trouble, but I promise he'll behave."
Shaking his head, Jake flipped me off. "If you say he's cool, then he's cool. Try not to let him near Crystal, though. Bitch is on one hell of a streak with wallets."
Linking my arm with Jakes, I pulled him forward. "Thanks for the heads up!"
"I look like trouble?" Jane questioned as we moved through the dimly lit main room.
"Yeah. Don't pretend you don't know exactly what I'm talking about." I gestured to his outfit. "The black clothes, leather, piercings, chains. You just scream bad boy, bartender."
"So I just scream I'm your type?"
"I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"
Jake leaned in as the music got louder. "Not on my watch, princess."
Past the hideous carpet and the multiple stages filled with varying light colors was the golden sign that said dressing room, staff only. I hurried up the stairs and knocked on the door. “Quinn, are you at least somewhat decent?”
“Not at all,” she answered. “But you can’t see my tits, so come on in.”
The dressing room was bright, far brighter than the actual club was. Everything was pink and gold, with sparkles embedded into every surface. Quinn sat at a little desk with her name written on the mirror in lipstick. She wore a lacy black, mostly sheer outfit and was just finishing up her eyelashes when Jake and I walked in. Through the mirror, she saw him and smirked. “Jake? Now, what is a fine gentleman like you doing with our little troublemaker?”
“Just running a few errands.”
Quinn practically groaned. “You have him running errands with you?” She purred, turning to look up at me as I moved to set her food down. “How cute.”
I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at her. “Nana sends her love.”
“Perfect timing!” She said, tearing into the food. “If you’d have brought me this after I did my lips, I would have killed you.”
Jake awkwardly looked around, trying not to pry into the more intimate things thrown about the room while still trying to satisfy his curiosity. “Prue wants a time for dress shopping.”
“I was thinking day of at like six?”
“In the morning?” I groaned. “I hate you two.”
She shook her head. “So, what have you two been up to today?”
“Like he said, errands,” I replied quickly.
“Errands or,” she raised her hands to do air quotes as she sensually whispered, “Errands?”
“Don’t trip on the stage,” I teased, grabbing Jake by the hand and leading him out of the dressing room.
She waved. “Bye bitch! Bye, Jake!”
We walked out of the club and back into the chilling air. Jake and I walked closer together, our hands still linked for a moment before I pulled my fingers free of his. For a while, we just walked, the quiet that had settled between us comfortable and free. It felt nice to spend time with him outside of the group, where he felt less inclined to hide away his every thought. As we grew closer to the apartment, Jake sighed. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“Thanks for tagging along,” I replied. “It was weirdly fun.”
He kept his eyes trained ahead of us as he asked, “So, you think I’m gonna get fired?”
I watched his face and saw the worry and the fear that lingered in his furrowed brows and tight eyes. “I don’t know. Howard was pretty pissed.”
“What’d Simone say?” I knew what he meant by asking. Knew he wanted to know if the hundreds of messages he’d gotten full of her anger… of her threatening to leave him behind, were true.
“She told him not to,” I said honestly. I was no fan of Simone and never would be, but Jake cared deeply for her, and I couldn’t bare to hurt him more than he already had been.
He nodded, breathing out a stressed breath and taking in a new, relieved one. “I’d say it’s about fifty-fifty then.”
“Oi!” Patrick hollered from across the street. He waved us over with wide arm gestures and flamboyant movements. “Come on!”
Jake and I crossed the street and fell into step behind my brothers as they began to walk. “Where are we going?”
Peter wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “To get that drink we owe you too, and that moon-eyed bitch.”
I gave him a glare. “Pete-”
“Relax, I’m not partaking.”
“Not even a sip.”
“You’re no fun.”
The sun finally set, and blue hues filled the city's skyline. All the bright signs kicked on and lit up the streets with that glow I loved so much. Walking through the neighborhood at night always made me feel like I was a kid again, sitting on my dad's shoulders as he pointed out his favorite spots and greeted everyone that passed with a fond hello. I looked over at Jake, slightly breathless at the way the colors illuminated him. Was he always so handsome? I wondered as his smile nearly made my heart burst. Oh my god, pull it together! I turned back around at the large crowd spilling out the doors of the old Irish pub.
“Here?” I asked.
Patrick smirked. “The bet was we bought drinks, didn’t ever say you got to choose where.”
The old pub was always packed, loud, and filled with drunken Irish men looking for a good drink and maybe a good fight if the mood struck. Wooden walls were lined with every type of whiskey and rum and Irish-made beer. Hanging from the ceiling, old streamers of green four-leaf clovers hung, likely from some old celebration of Saint Patrick’s Day.
We all sat down at the first table we could find, Jake and I on one side and Pat and Pete on the other, grinning like fools. They loved this place, not just because of the drinks and the loud people but because of how much it reminded them of our dad. I saw the appeal but found comfort in dads memory in smaller, less chaotic locations. Patrick left the table to get the drinks, and Peter leaned forward. “So, how was your day?”
“Good,” I answered, glancing at Jake. “We just ran errands.”
Jake shrugged. “It beats getting my ass chewed out at work, so I’d say it was good.”
Peter nodded, eyes glued to my face and the expression or lack thereof. He saw right through me. Saw into my very mind and ate up all the thoughts of Jake that weren’t friend specific. He’d always been able to do that with every boy I liked since the dawn of time. It was frustrating to no end, but this was particularly so. After all the fuss I’d made over Jake being a friend, Peter would never let me live it down, and Patrick… God, Patrick would be the worst of them.
When Patrick returned, sliding each of us our drinks and setting a tiny shot glass of whiskey down in front of Peter, the crowd began to pull their attention to our table. Jake and Peter stood out like sore thumbs in the sea of red hair and rich browns. Jake, clad in all black and leather with chains and earrings and everything that screamed city boy and Peter, bald and thin and not drinking. Patrick sent as many dirty glares as he could to try and get them to get the message, but it seemed like tonight was not the night for silent deterring.
We drank and conversed, but Patrick’s tenseness only seemed to grow as the crowd began whispering about our brother and my friend Jake. It only took one pointed comment to blow his top, but what surprised me was that it wasn’t a comment about Peter that did it in… but about Jake. I hadn’t heard the full thing, but whatever they’d said had Patrick on his feet in a manner of seconds, with Peter closely moving behind him.
Jake watched the fight break out with wide eyes and a quiet fuck. “Your brothers work quickly to defend your honor.”
“Oh, they didn’t say anything about me,” I assured him. “I look Irish enough for them.”
"Then what was all that about?"
"They insulted you."
I watched Jake's face shift. That strong mask of disinterest and uncaring fell and exposed the disbelief that lay beneath it. "Why would they do that?"
"You're part of the group now, aren't you?" I asked. A hopeful look shined in his eyes as he shrugged. "Patrick's protective. He can insult you all night, but god help anyone else who does it." After a minute, I bumped his shoulder. "You said a mob was better than nothing. So... Welcome to the mob, Jake."
Patrick dropped himself back into his chair, and Peter laughed as he followed. "Those FUCKING CUNTS," Patrick yelled, causing more shots and curses to fly from the bar. Then, he smiled smugly, "Won't be botherin' ya again, little brother."
"Little brother?" Jake asked.
"Sorry," Peter said. "Copperhead calls everyone brother or sister. He's a big family guy."
"Don't mean nothin' by it," he said. "If it bothers you."
For a second, I worried that Jake would take offense to my brother's too-intimate gestures. But, instead, he shook his head and cleared his throat. "No, it's fine. It doesn't bother me."
Patrick smiled. "Good. Now, I believe we were discussing drinks before we were so rudely interrupted."
As the night dragged on the more Jake seemed to relax. My brothers were idiots the majority of the time, but they did a hell of a job making lost people feel found. The bar started to close down by the time we gathered our things, paid our tab, and started home. Patrick and Peter took the front, loudly singing Irish folk music as they walked back toward the apartment. Jake and I hung back, enjoying the quiet, crisp midnight air.
Somewhere up the road, a car engine revved, the sound making me turn my head and nearly trip over my own feet as I searched the street for that flash of red and white. Jake set a hand on my lower back, steadying me as he looked at the road. "It's just someone's old junker."
Patrick and Peter had stopped walking, too, both of them looking back at me, ready and willing to come rushing in if I needed them. I shook my head, and we started walking again. They waited until we were a little closer to do the same. Then, after taking a minute to get my heart to stop beating wildly, I spoke, nudging Jake’s shoulder, “I just realized you’ve gone all day without trying to play 20 questions.”
Jake chuckled. “I did, didn’t I?”
“I’ll give you a freebie if you want,” I offered.
"You still haven't told me about this,” he said, brushing my hair off my shoulder to trace the long scar that peeked out from beneath the collar of my shirt.
"It's not something I like to talk about," I answered, our pace slowing until we weren't even walking anymore.
"Is it worse than all the shit with your mom?"
Worse. That was a mild way to put it. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, smoothing his thumb over the jagged edge of the skin. "I just want you to know you can trust me when, if, you're ready to talk about it."
I set my hand over his and looked up into his eyes. "I do trust you, Jake."
He smiled, looking up the street at Patrick and Peter as they waited for us. "I better go home. Wouldn't want Lena to miss me too much."
I rolled my eyes and smiled, the nervous tension from his question vanishing. "Yeah, she can be kind of clingy."
Jake shrugged. "I don't mind."
"See you at work tomorrow?" I asked as he took a step back.
"Depends on if I still have a job or not."
"I told Howard he should let it slide, but I don't know how much influence I have in managerial affairs."
He smiled, waving the concern away, and wrapped his jacket around my shoulders. "Don't worry about it, princess. I'm sure I'll be fine either way."
“Goodnight, Jake," I said, taking hold of the leather to pull it tighter around myself.
“Goodnight, Lena," he replied, looking at me for a minute before he turned toward the street to call a cab.
I rejoined Patrick and Peter, ignoring how both gave me that look. Patrick opened his mouth. "Don't say a word," I warned.
He put his hands up, innocently smiling. "I was just gonna say tonight was fun." There was a long pause. "And ask how long you're gonna wait to fuck him, you know, now that you're being realistic with yourself."
Raising my hand, I chased after him. "Stop running, and let me slap you!"
38 notes
·
View notes