She gestures with her chin to the phone. “You’re buggering off aren’t you? To meet up with him?”
“What? No way. I’m all about this girls’ night. Want to go back in and dance?” Miss this moment? Not a chance. This is what I should have done—even occasionally— while in college instead of trying to CLEP courses and outdo my already high marks.
Experiences such as this, well, maybe I should have tried to have them sooner, but I’ll take this one right now and enjoy it for everything it’s worth.
I text McRae. Out with friends. U? Working, aren’t ya? This part of the night may be all about us girls, but the later part can be all about McRae in hopefully all his buff glory.
Jayne slides down the pole, coming to rest against her heels. “For future nights out like this I propose we do something either with less movement or alcohol. The combination of the two aren’t working for me.”
My phone zings in my hand. Lots to do with Mark out of town.
Oh brother. This guy needs a Josie intervention. U+me=sex later?
Yes.
It’s funny how quick his response comes. I’ll text you, I text back and refocus on Jayne.
“Have you had anything to eat? You’re looking a weird shade of...”
“Puce. It doesn’t work with your skin tone,” chimes Pippa, who flips out of a handstand and stares down at Jayne. “I bet she’s had a bag of crisps today and nothing else.”
“You know me so well,” Jayne says.
I stand and Pippa and I offer Jayne a hand. She takes ours and we haul her up.
“Any good restaurants around here?” I ask.
“I’d actually like to go home,” Jayne says. Her hair is loose, sweat-formed strands clumped together, and her lips are devoid of the light pink gloss she favors.
“Home then,” Pippa says and points down the beach toward stairs that I presume will lead up to the garage where we left Jayne’s car.
It’s slow going as Jayne stops to clutch her stomach every few steps.
“She’s a baby,” Pippa says. “Never could hold her drink. It’s the only time she gets impulsive. Jayne lives to be deliberate.”
By the time we climb the stairs and make our way to the parking garage Jayne is several feet behind us and moaning.
“Feeling that bad are you?” To give her a chance to catch her breath, I pull myself up to sit on the ledge of the short wall that was designed to keep people from trampling through the bushes.
“I wish I could toss it up already.”
“Greasy food will soak it up.”
“Ugh.” She’s still leaning forward; I suppose hoping gravity will assist. “Actually, that sounds good.”
Pippa lines up, positioning herself to do another handstand against the wall.
“Fuck all, Pippa, just sit on the wall like a normal person,” I say.
Jayne starts laughing and Pippa suppresses a grin. She doesn’t sit on the wall but she doesn’t do a handstand either.
“Come on,” I say. “You can hang your head out the window if you think you might get sick. I know just the thing you need.”
After driving through a local burger joint, the massacre of three cheeseburgers and several orders of large fries, we arrive at Jayne’s townhouse. She’s caught somewhere between exhausted, too much booze, and a greasy food crash so we help her inside, out of her dress and into her bed. Pippa vanishes into the guest room after blowing me a kiss.
I place a large bowl on Jayne’s night table along with a bottle of water and aspirin.
“Thanks, Josie,” she mumbles.
“Of course.”
“Take my car. I’ll get my mum to come and get me tomorrow.” Her voice is fading as if sleep is soon to claim her. I hear her breath even out and I click off the lights, leave her keys on the table, and pull out my phone.
Ready? I text McRae.
It’s just after midnight on a work night. He’s probably crashed out in some very serious pajamas that cover every inch of his body. But the dancing and pulse of the music still hums through me and I have energy that needs to be spent.
Eleven
I wait what seems like an extraordinarily long time before he replies.
Yeah.
Sleeping? I ask.
Nah. Still Working.
I glance at the time and am willing to bet he was out cold a few minutes ago. I could use a ride. ;-)
Seriously?
Yes. I send my location. If you’re hesitating, remember that you want me to be on time tmrw.
I’ll be there in 10.
I wait outside, leaning against the cool, dewy bricks of Jayne’s townhouse. A beat-up old pickup rumbles into the parking lot and cruises slowly toward me. It’s him, but I look in the passenger window just to make sure.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile and slide in before pulling the door closed. “This truck new?” I tease. “Bench seat. Awesome.”
McRae is all sleep-tousled and sexy with a simple green T-shirt stretching across his divine body. He’s pulled on worn jeans with a hole that gaps by his knee, so sexy I want to crawl across the seat and sit on his lap.
“This is mine; the other is Mark’s company truck. Where’s your biker friend’s motorcycle?” He nods to the townhouse.
“What?”
“The biker. The guy that dropped you off this morning. This his place?” His hand rests on the shifter, as that’s how old this truck is.
I give a short laugh and place my hand on his bicep. “How many guys you think I got on the hook?”
He shrugs.
“You know that bar I work at, the Fox and the Hound? This place belongs to the owners’ daughter, Jayne. She and I went out tonight.”
After a short pause, he shifts the truck into drive and slowly makes tracks toward our neighborhood. He’s not looking at me and is not as excited to see me as I thought he might be.
As I am to see him.
“What’s this about?” I flip off my seatbelt and scoot next to him in the space fondly known as riding bitch. “You jealous, McRae?”
“What? Hell no.” He stares at the road.
“Mm-hmm. I see. This is about wondering if you’re the backup hitter. Relief pitcher.”
When he says nothing, I consider a new tactic, uncertain how to traverse these unfamiliar waters. But because my ponytail is too tight, I don’t bother trying to use brainpower until I set my hair free, which causes the dull ache in my head to ease. I massage the spot and involuntarily moan. McRae shifts in his seat, adjusting his jeans.
“You want to tell me where we’re going?”
I give a few short commands, steering him toward my place. He leaves the engine to idle and stares straight ahead.
I put my hand on his knee, the one exposed from the hole in his jeans.
“You’re the only one I’m doing, McRae. Let’s be honest, I should say you’re the only one I’ve done because we currently aren’t doing anything.”
“So you and that biker guy... I mean, I just need to know because I’m not looking to get into a fight with some dude.” Finally, he looks at me and I see something I recognize but can’t label. Loneliness perhaps?
“There’s nothing going on between Will and me. To do so would be punishable in a court of law, besides being completely disgusting. He’s my brother.”