Chapter Nineteen
–Fletcher–
After rehearsals for tonight, I sat on the couch in the back room and fell asleep. Too much hockey practice, extra running, extra training with Jamie and Leo, plus helping both Haley and Jamie study for Civics has wiped me out. I’m working hard to peel my eyes open when a warm body lands in my lap.
“Rosie or Henrietta?” I say. When there’s no answer, I know I’m supposed to play the guessing game. Henrietta has been on a long no-panty streak, so I could walk a hand up her skirt and find out that way—God knows the other guys would do it—but instead, I go for the hair.
I was wrong on both accounts.
“Brittney.”
She laughs, and I open my eyes and have to endure the sting of hairspray wafting into my breathing space. Brittney ruffles my hair and then slides off my lap. “You look like a little boy when you’re asleep.”
“Thanks?” I stand up to my full height and take in the commotion around me. I must have really been zonked. Angel is seated in a chair nearby—pale and bent over, her head between her knees. Her fiancé, who is one of the club’s bouncers, is cradling their screaming toddler.
Paco walks into the back room and immediately covers his ears. “Hey, Scott! Braden wants you.”
I brush past Angel and give her a pat on the back. She hasn’t said so, but I’m sure she must be pregnant again. She’s been my longest partner, except when she was über-pregnant, so I know the signs. Ricky—the club’s owner—didn’t want any issues, since I was under eighteen when I started, and Angel is very professional and practically married, so that’s why we’ve always been paired up together.
I stumble through the doors and walk across the center-platform stage to where the bar sits. Braden has several shots lined up for the staff. It’s so strange how different it is for me here than at school or any public place in town. All it took was Ricky saying once, “Don’t bring any of these foods in the building, or you’ll kill Baby Scott” (that’s been my nickname for a while, unfortunately. Partly because of my age when I started working here, but mostly because my brother bartends. He’s Big Scott, I’m the baby), and everyone followed Ricky’s orders without question.
“Enjoy your nap?”
I rub my face and debate slapping myself awake. “I need something.”
“Booze or uppers?” Braden asks.
“Uppers,” I say. “Definitely uppers.”
He produces a pot of coffee from under the bar and fills a wineglass. “Sorry, the mug is missing.”
Apparently, mug is singular here. Whatever. I don’t care. Coffee is coffee. I hate it, but I love the side effects. I choke down a long sip and then fall onto the barstool. “I think I might have a problem.”
“You mean Angel?” Braden says, lowering his voice. “She looks…”
“Glowing?” I supply, though it’s quite the opposite from what I saw moments ago. More like about-to-puke.
Braden nods. “Ricky will pair you with Rosie, probably. She says Henrietta will corrupt your innocence.”
I smirk down at my wineglass of coffee.
Braden tosses a dirty wet rag at me, and Ricky emerges from her office and glares at him. “You ruin the talent’s shirt, and you’re fired.”
I look up at Ricky. “I get to wear a shirt tonight?”
She attempts a stern look, but grins anyway. “If you’re good.”
Braden waits for her to go back into her office and then leans in. “Seriously? Henrietta?”
I shrug. It was one time. Several months ago. “Angel isn’t my problem. It’s Haley.”
“Haley Stevenson?” Braden is all ears now. “What about her? She’s not into Cole?”
“No, definitely not into Cole.” I shake my head. “I think I might be into her, though…” I sigh again and wish I were still sleeping on the couch. I don’t know what’s going on with Haley, and that’s the part I can’t handle. I have a handful of people I’m close with who I share shit with, and I have a larger handful of people who I share, um, physical closeness with, but never both. Aside from Angel and her fiancé, I haven’t really even seen both before. I don’t know what it looks like or how it works. And then toss in the Princess-of-Juniper-Falls factor and the gossip circle that comes with that…yeah, I’m a little out of my comfort zone even thinking about it.
“You stay away from that sweet girl,” Braden snaps. “The thought of you and her…I’m getting physically ill here.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I roll my eyes. “She’s not ten or whatever anymore. She’s my age. We grow up. We hook up. It happens.”
Hook up with Haley? Now that’s one option.
“I need to dig up that team photo,” Braden says with a grin. “If you could have seen her then. She was constantly dirty, with the messiest hair I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Her mom chased her around with a hairbrush and kept bedazzling her football socks with pink rhinestones.”
Well, that’s definitely not the Haley Stevenson I know. But then again, she did roll around in my driveway, letting all three dogs cover her in mud.
“You know what?” I force down another big swallow of lukewarm coffee. “I’m gonna forget about that tonight and focus on collecting some more cash.”
“And panties.” My brother flashes a grin that looks way too much like Grandpa Scott’s.
I return the grin. He’s right. All I need is a room full of other women to stop thinking about Haley.