Callous Page 4

  Am I that transparent?

  Maxx moves her face back to me. “So, what is his name? John? Jacob?”

  “Jinglehemiersmit...,” Luke inserts.

  “I don’t know who is the bigger nerd at this moment, which is something I never thought I’d say with Maxx in the room,” my jab at her is followed with me sipping my coffee and Luke snickering.

  “Well you did have a date with C.J. last night...”

  “Exactly, so why didn’t you start there?” I toss my hand in the air.

  “Because any time C.J. is involved, you puss out and find the nearest one-nighter in your cell phone to make out with to bury the fact that you have actual feelings for him.”

  I hate when she goes all Oprah on me. I feel like if she’s gonna do that the least she could do is pass out cars afterwards.

  “Yeah what’s that about?” Luke leans forward. “You clearly like the guy. He...in the words of the Kid worships the ground you walk on. What’s the problem sis?”

  Is it gang up on Erin day? Did I miss that memo? Did you receive it?

  “I don’t have a problem. I’m 25 and life is about having fun. I don’t need attachments.”

  You buy that bullshit, right?

  “Did you hear that?” Luke leans a hand against his ear and looks at Maxx. “Does that sound like bullshit to you, too?”

  And this is my brother....

  “Life is about being happy. And the truth of the matter is you’re just like Kellar. You fuck to forget the things that cause you pain. You bury yourself in your job so you don’t have to deal with the emotions you don’t know how to stomach. You can’t run from the past forever, Erin. You’re going to have to deal with their death eventually.”

  “Could you close the lecture box until I’ve at least gotten to enjoy one cup of coffee?”

  Luke stands and adjusts his salmon colored polo shirt. “I’ll do you one better; I’ll leave.”

  “Where are you going?” Maxx questions.

  “Brunch.”

  Curiosity pushes me, “With?”

  “A friend.”

  “Oh you can pry into my love life but I can’t pry into yours?”

  “I’m not the one who had the ‘O’ face when she walked into the room this morning. Besides we’re just work friends. I’m meeting with him and his fiancé.” Before I have a chance to say anything else, he turns on the water to rinse out his coffee cup. “And I’m doing it because it looks good for my job. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Movies tonight?” Maxx rubs her pregnant stomach softly. “The boys are doing a boys’ night out.”

  “Only if we get to watch the Notebook.”

  “Boo....” Maxx and I yell at him at the same time.

  Really? You’re on his side with this one?

  Luke folds his arms. “What?”

  “Come on, Luke. We watched that last girl’s night,” Maxx explains. “And you and I watched it again last Sunday with Logan when I couldn’t sleep because the baby thought my stomach was some sort of Dance Dance Revolution Game.”

  “Only you,” I mutter. “Only you...”

  “Fine,” he surrenders. “Anything other than Molly Ringwald, I’ve had enough of the redhead 80’s queen, thank you both very much.”

  We giggle and Luke makes his exit. The moment the door shuts, Maxx says, “Your brother’s right ya know.”

  “Thank God you didn’t let him hear you say that.”

  “Erin, we all have pasts that we aren’t the best at dealing with, but take a note from Logan and me. It’s not worth it to bury it forever. And more importantly, the sooner you start to deal with it, the happier you’ll be.”

  “I am plenty happy,” I mutter and stand up going to dump my coffee cup out. “I style people for a living. I’ve got more money than I can possibly spend. A brand new Range Rover in my driveway...best friends who are annoying albeit wonderful—”

  “Thanks.”

  “I am happy.”

  “Who are you trying to convince at this point? You, or me?”

  You didn’t not just hear me growl in irritation that I don’t know the answer to that question.

  ***

  Pulling into C.J.’s driveway I turn the engine off and close my eyes.

  Here’s the thing. I know last night I agreed to give this a go, but I can’t. I just can’t do this to myself. I can’t get involved with someone like C.J. Someone who actually cares about more than what is under my dress. Someone who actually wants something from me like....lo—lo—lo—I can’t even finish that fucking word let alone give it. He deserves better than that. Better than someone who hasn’t really opened up in 8 years. Better than me. But I swear if you mention that out loud, I will deny it and then smack you.

  Quickly I stomp up the stairs and knock on his door. When it opens C.J. is standing in front of me shirtless in a pair of red baggy gym shorts. My jaw drops as do my eyes to the v that is making a perfect ab-arrow to his pierced cock that I want to see. And feel again.

  Oh like you’re not a little curious about how good that thing feels inside.

  “Eyes up,” he chuckles. Glaring I lift my eyes back to him and fold my arms across my black button up shirt. “Need something, babe?”

  “Don’t call me that,” my voice growls. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure,” he opens the door for me to slip in.

  The second I’m on the other side, he presses my back up against the door, wraps a hand around the back of my neck, and presses his lips fiercely against mine, until I submit to him.

  You try fighting the feeling of pure pleasure.

  A small whimper comes out of me and C.J. runs his hand down the front of my shirt and cups my boob giving it a hard squeeze. When I gasp at the pain mixed with total bliss his tongue presses against mine tightly, drawing me further into him, further into the kiss that I shouldn’t be doing.

  Right, I shouldn’t be doing this.

  His lips fall off of mine and he whispers, “God, I missed your tongue.”

  Instantly I smile and reach out for him again, tossing my arms around his neck desperate to taste him just one more second. C.J. rolls his tongue back against mine while my fingers tug at his hair. The pull ignites something inside of him and he yanks me away from the door, twirls me around, and pushes my ass against the side table next to the love-seat, knocking the lamp on the floor.

  I pull away to question about the broken lamp. “You think we should—”

  “Fuck it.” His lips press on mine once more, this time tugging at my skirt as well.

  Remind me why I thought wearing the world’s tightest fucking skirt was a good idea.

  C.J. growls in frustration. However, somehow between his determination and my excitement, my skirt gets unzipped and rolled up. When the only thing left between me being completely exposed on the lower half of my body is my black thong, he rips it.

  Quickly I snap, “Those are fucking expensive!”

  Two fingers plunge inside of me at the same time he groans in my ear, “I’ll buy you the whole fucking store.”

  A mewl crawls out of me as a response. My head falls back in delight, my nails digging into his bulging biceps, the moans increasing as does C.J.’s rapid rate of pumping inside me. Like some sort of finger banging wizard, he casts a spell on my orgasm that demands it come much faster than it should. My thighs try to close to hold the orgasm at bay, which is when he uses his free hand to keep them apart, the pressure being enough to bruise and that thought excites me more.

  My teeth bite my bottom lip before C.J. leans down to tug it free into his own mouth, his teeth instantly nibbling on it. The aching sensation coerces my orgasm to break free on a loud and full of life moan of his name, “C.J.!”

  I tremble and shake as I try to come down, his fingers slowly drawing out of me. Once they’re free, he lets my lip go. Appeased he cocks a crooked grin with a glint in his eyes. “You wanted to talk?”

  My eyebrows dart down in confusion. “I d
id?”

  “Must’ve not been that important, babe.”

  “Ugh.” I push him away from me, hop up and shimmy my skirt down. The irritation of broken panties causes me to growl at him again as I yank them off. Once they’re dangling from my fingertips I hold them up in front of his face, “These were one hundred-fifty dollars from a French collection. I’m expecting you to replace them in black.”

  C.J. snatches them and leans down closer to my face. “I’ll buy them in Every. Fucking. Color.” His lips fall to my ear, “And then I’ll rip them off of you all over again.”

  Well...so much for that fucking plan. Okay so maybe spending the next twenty-nine days with C.J. blowing my brains out in bed won’t be so bad, as long as I can make him fall out of love with me in the process. Please help me remember that....no seriously. Please.

  Chapter 6

  C.J.

  Lacing up my bowling shoes, I roll my eyes at Dean who’s hitting on the waitress that came to take our drink orders.

  “I swear if I thought there was any possibility that the Kid could possibly be yours, I would’ve forced you to get a DNA test.” I look over my shoulder as Dean types her phone number in his phone. “Seriously?”

  Logan looks over and tosses his head back in laughter.

  Ladies fucking flock to Kellar like horny moths to some sort of sex flame. I mean I get it. He’s a MMA fighter. Chicks dig the bad boy who can knock someone out. Not to say I don’t do well with women myself. I’ve had my fair share of chances to get my tip wet. I choose not to. What can I say? When I want something, I want something.

  “Worst parent ever,” I declare.

  “I highly doubt ever,” Stuart speaks up and gives me a raised eyebrow look.

  Logan stands up for his adopted son, “Oh it’s a little harmless flirting. The Kid is sixteen. Do you remember how fucking horny you were at sixteen?”

  The thought of a blonde girl begging me to take her virginity flashes through my head. “Fine. Valid point. I’ll co-sign. But could you get his ass over here so we can get the game going?”

  “Casanova,” Kellar calls to him. “Grab some balls and not the ones between your legs!”

  We all laugh and Dean jogs over to us, a shit eating grin on his face. He places his two neon yellow balls down on the ball carousel next to the rest of ours before he flops down next to his father.

  Innocently, he shrugs, “She was hot.”

  “Everything in a short skirt and tight top is hot to you,” Kellar says.

  “Wonder where he got that from,” I mutter and Stuart laughs again.

  “Hey,” Logan states quickly. “For the record, that’s not me anymore.”

  “I will give you that, Kellar.” Stuart nods. “Ever since you and Maxx got together, you’ve done a good job keeping it in your pants.”

  “The things we do for love.” Logan stands up to bowl first.

  “On the subject of Maxx already?” Tony, one of our other best friends, strolls up late, shedding his coat. “How long did it take this time?”

  We laugh but Logan grunts, “I don’t always turn the subject to Maxx. She’s not all I talk about.”

  “Most of the time.” Tony starts switching shoes.

  Kellar glares and turns around to take his turn.

  Over the past year, Tony and Logan have basically become family to me and Stuart. While Logan is like the arrogant younger brother, Tony is like the younger nerdy one. In ways a carbon copy of Logan’s wife, but rather than being a book nerd, he’s a tech nerd. And a damn good one! He makes hacking look like something he learned to do in diapers. Before you ask me if I’ve ever used his services to dodge my father, remember he’s on my side of this....and you...well you’re just one click away, aren’t you?

  “Leave him alone,” Stuart defends. “Guy’s in love. Happily newly wed.”

  “Speaking of new relationships,” Kellar sits down since it’s Stuarts turn to bowl. “How are things with Erin? Heard through the grapevine she was quite happy this morning.”

  I try not to let my chest swell with pride, but fail.

  What do you want? This woman rarely gives most guys who walk into her life more than a quick lay let alone an afterthought. I’m finally making progress. Don’t rain on my damn moment.

  “By happy you mean like a sex high?” Dean leans forward on his elbows entering the conversation.

  “What do you know about sex highs?” Tony gives him a look of disbelief.

  “I always leave the ladies with an ‘O’ face,” he responds arrogantly.

  “God did you clone like something from Austin Powers?” Tony rises to his feet while shaking his head.

  “You’re the reason Maxx insisted on watching that marathon the other night aren’t you?” Logan accuses.

  “Old movies are the best,” Dean stands now that it’s his turn to bowl.

  Once Dean and Tony’s attention has trailed away from us, Logan repeats, “Are you the reason she was happy this morning?” When I don’t answer Kellar goads again, “Fine. Don’t talk about it. But let me give you a word of advice.”

  “Advice? Seriously?”

  After flipping me off he continues, “She’s gonna try to run and you’re gonna let her.”

  See. This is exactly why he shouldn’t give advice. That was the dumbest fucking thing he’s said. Well today.

  “You’re gonna let her because if you don’t she’s gonna completely shut you out and clam up. She’s going to start avoiding your calls and treating you like every other hit it and quit that’s ever walked into her life. Because if you don’t, she’ll never take the time to realize that she’s as in love with you as you are with her.” He explains as Stuart sits back down. My turn is after Dean’s, which is almost finished.

  With the words rolling around in my head, I get up, grab my ball and prepare to bowl when something stops me. Turning back around I ask, “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Because I’ve been there. And that’s how the game is played.”

  I turn back around unsure what’s worse. The fact that I’m taking advice from someone who tries to avoid getting hit in the head for a living, or the fact that somewhere deep inside I know that he’s right.

  Chapter 7

  C.J.

  Walking into Frank’s office before my shift, I’m not surprised to see him with a cigar dangling from his lips and one of the latest week day bartenders in his lap.

  Frank is one of the sleaziest people you could possibly meet. Jersey Shore, overly gelled black hair, too tanned skin, gold chains lying on top of his too tight t-shirt. The guy is somewhere in his 40s, slight beer belly, and an air of arrogance that makes you want to punch him in the face for standing in the same room too long. And I’m not a violent guy.

  “A word?” I ask bracing my arms against my chest.

  “I’ll catch you after your shift.” Frank pops her on the ass and she giggles bouncing out of the room.

  Once the door is closed behind me, I nod my head towards him, “At least she’s legal.”

  Frank shrugs and leans back in his seat. “You bringing me good news?”

  “Yeah, I helped settle your other issue and had her sign a NDA. So everything is settled, but may I suggest from now on that you make sure they’re legal and preferably not the mayor’s cousin’s daughter.”

  “She was legal—”

  “Not legal enough to be drinking. Point being, how about you make sure you’re a little more careful from now. I don’t enjoy worming you out of these situations any more than I enjoyed worming other scum out of similar ones.”

  “Did you just call me scum?” Frank puts out his cigar.

  See what he takes from the conversation.

  “Yeah, anyway, I’ve only got a couple more weeks left.”

  Confused, Frank questions, “Where are you going?”

  “Apparently I can’t run from my past forever.”

  “That thing will always catch up with you. Like an STD.” The compa
rison makes me wrinkle my face. “So will you be back?”

  The question rings in my ear, the same question I’ve been asking myself for the last three nights, praying the answer is yes, but not sure I even believe it.

  “If I am, it won’t be as a bartender,” I sigh turning on my heels and exiting the room to get ready for my shift.

  It doesn’t take long for the bar to fill up since it’s one of the amateur fight nights we hold weekly. There are two big fights called Fight Night every month with the current running champ and there are two smaller fights just looking to qualify. Fights bring in a huge amount of money; Fight Nights bring in an insane amount, some of it legal, some of it with an insufficient amount of evidence to prove an actual crime is being committed.

  I’m a lawyer and am well aware of which things to not know for my own safety and which to advise him on to help keep him out of a jail cell. If you must know when I started that was part of the deal. I help keep Frank’s ass out of legal trouble, he keeps my secret.

  I’m pouring drinks at a rapid rate, tossing bottles in the air, and spinning them around for show. The mildly attractive college girls in front of me eat it up before tossing back the shots and encouraging me to keep going for their entertainment.

  I’ve been doing it basically since I could walk. Sounds strange, but it’s the truth.

  “Come on, C.J.,” Lynn one of my regulars whines at me, her small tits trying their best to fall out of a sheer see through white top. She bounces. “Do shots with us!”

  “Just one,” I wink and toss out four shot glasses. I pour them three shots of top shelf vodka and myself from a bottle I keep under the bar that’s actually filled with water.

  The ladies raise their glasses and clink with each other while yelling something not completely comprehensible. They down their shots while I toss mine back pretending to feel a burn to help convince them I’m giving them what they want.