Conleigh
The next morning, I have an email from my advisor. She wants to meet with me to make sure I want to completely withdraw or apply for a deferment. With my grades, I could apply for a grant. Ronald will receive a portion of the tuition back. I schedule an appointment to talk with her and get ready for work. In the kitchen, there is a note from Ezra.
Snookem’s,
I’m sorry about last night. I had too much to drink and I was an insensitive asshole. I should have said, I’m sorry your mom can be overbearing and I love you. Your mom loves you. So does Ronald. We all only want the best for you. We’ll talk later and Holden will bring a key by your work at lunch. I am leaving you the spare key to my car. You can drive it to work today. Holden is giving me a lift to the office and I will get an Uber home. I left you one of my old cell phones on the dresser, I already had it added to my account and programmed important numbers for you.
All my love,
Ezra
I groan. He must have spoken to my mother. I don’t know whether to choke Ezra or forgive him.
When I get to work, I am stuck tagging the sales racks. I hate working retail. I despise all the rude people who shop here, but I guess it pays and I should be happy I’m not working fast-food, yet.
The one perk of working here though is the employee discount. I eye the spring arrivals, daydreaming about being on a beach somewhere with a cocktail and a book while sticking red and green stickers on price tags.
“Excuse me, Miss. Do you have this in an extra-large?” The busty blonde who reminds me a lot of Mimi from The Drew Carey Show questions, her vibrant purple eyeshadow and pink lipstick exaggerating her facial expression holds up an electric blue sequined dress.
“Not in this section. Have you checked in the plus size wear?” I don’t mean my suggestion to come off as rude, but there is always a customer who thinks she can still fit into the junior’s clothing like she did before kids and ten years of marriage.
“I’m not plus-size. I have wide hips.” She twists her nose and mouth up at me.
“Ma’am, this is the junior’s section. The sizes are tailored to fit teen girls.”
“Well, I have never.” She mocks a face of horror as though I have insulted her beyond her belief. “I want to speak to a manager,” she demands, storming off toward the perfume counter.
I sigh and go back to my task. There is no making some people happy.
Moments later, I see the woman fake crying to Ted. He’s the department store manager and I swear the guy hates me. He is always writing me up for something.
He talks with her for a moment and leads her away.
Great.
I don’t see any sign of the crazy lady or Ted before or after I return from my lunch break. Maybe I will get off with a mild warning or escape a talk with Ted completely.
By the end of my shift, there still isn’t any sign of Holden or my new key for the apartment for that matter. At least I was able to drive Ezra’s car today. He had Holden drive him to work and said he’d catch an Uber home, but he took his keys with him. I am using his spare car key. Which means I will have to rely on Holden to let me in.
When I go to clock out Ted calls me into the office. “Please, have a seat.”
“What’s up?”
“You called in Saturday and didn’t file the proper paperwork. You were out of days and today with the customer you upset that’s too many marks against you and I have no choice but to let you go.”
“What? You’re firing me?”
“Afraid so. I’ll need you to turn in your name tag.” He gives me a fake grimace. I know the jerk is enjoying this all too much.
I rip it from my shirt not caring if I tear a hole in it.
——––—
Holden James is a jerk with a capital J. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dude counts the notches on his bedpost by actually carving them in the wood with a knife. I’m not sure what he does when he isn’t driving me mad other than play cards, and shooting pool in the back of some dank bar, Big Mike’s Grill.
I’ve only been here a few times, and the times I was here, I wasn’t impressed. I could’ve sworn a guy was pissing in the corner; it was so gross. A couple was dry humping on a couch, and a huge fight broke out. One night, a guy was stabbed in the parking lot. After that incident, I swore I’d never go back, and Ezra promised me I wouldn’t need to. The only appeal of the place is the Saturday night open mic. It always draws large crowds, or so I have heard. My best friend, Bailey, likes going to the open mic nights. Well she used to until she kept running into Holden.
Anyway, I don’t have a key of my own still, since Holden neglected to bring one to me today. I am technically moving the last of my stuff in tomorrow. Holden was supposed to get a key made for me and bring it to me at lunch. Of course, he was a no show. I should’ve known better than to depend on him. Holden isn’t known for being dependable. I’ve never known him to keep a promise, and I gave up setting him up with my friends forever ago. I set him up with my cousin, Whitney, when she came for a visit and he took her to a strip club. Who does that? Holden James, that’s who. My friend, Carissa went on one double date with us and Holden, and she swore she’d never do it again. She said she wasn’t looking to join the long line of one-night stands that plague that man.
After three ignored text messages and thirty minutes of standing in the cold, I give in and drive to the Grill. It isn’t a shock to my system seeing Holden’s rusty tin can he calls a truck sitting in the lot. Stupid jerkface. I’d kick his ride if I weren’t afraid it’d fall apart on impact. I swear that thing is an accident waiting to happen.
I lock Ezra’s car and head inside. Once I’m through the doors, I’m hit with the wave of stale smoke. I’ll definitely need to wash my hair tonight. There’s no way I can show up to meeting my advisor smelling like ass in the morning. The Grill is your basic rundown bar that has music, cheap beer, and burgers.
As soon as you walk in the bar, there’s an ATM to the right. The middle of the room serves as the seating area and a few booths line the opposite wall of the bar. In the far back corner is a stage and small dance floor. To the left is a hallway that leads to the bathrooms and the pool hall that is in the basement where the poker games happen.
“Welcome to ladies’ night. What’s your pleasure, doll?” The man behind the bar calls in my direction as I scan the room in search of Holden. The Grill is as dirty and crowded as I remember. The appeal is all the cheap drinks. Peanut shells crunch under my heels as I step forward. The bar top is dark and that’s probably a good thing. I don’t want to think about all the germs it holds.
I really don’t want a drink, but find myself in need of one just by being here. A couple of rough looking bikers are eating a pizza, smiling in my direction. I ignore them and search the booths. I still don’t see my roomie.
“Screwdriver,” I shout over the blaring of the jukebox as I Love Rock ‘n Roll starts to play. “Is Holden here?”
The guy shakes his head with a laugh as he pours my drink. “Yeah, he’s here.”
“Thanks.” I don’t bother asking what he finds so amusing. I lay three ones on the bar and take my drink.
With my drink in my hand, I sip it through the tiny red straw and continue to walk further to the back and down the hall to the basement. There’s a game of poker happening but my elusive roommate isn’t sitting in any of the chairs. The guys playing don’t give me a second glance and return to their game. No one is playing pool, so I head back upstairs. I turn toward the stage but that area is empty.
Maybe he isn’t even here. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone home with a stranger. Maybe he is off somewhere getting laid.
I’ve witnessed too many of his walks of shame, especially when we went on spring break together. Cancun was amazing. Other than the girls, Holden was actually kinda fun on that trip. He came to my rescue and took me swimming with the dolphins when Ezra was too hungover to get out of bed. He said it was food poisoning, I beg to differ. Not that it matters now.
I guess Holden has his moments. Right now, however, as I am walking to the bathroom isn’t one of his finest ones. As I am walking toward the ladies, he walks out of the men’s room, zipping his pants with a floozie following close behind him wiping her lips.
He brushes a hand through his sandy hair and smiles at me. Holden is gorgeous in that rough lumberjack way. His hair is never styled, but the chunky pieces that lay in misdirected sections, make it appear as though he puts in a lot of effort to get it that way. He stands over six-feet two-inches tall and is a wall of muscle. He has a face you don’t forget, a strong jaw that is shadowed by his five o’clock shadow. The man looks as if he were carved from stone by the God’s themselves. He’s truly an Adonis, until he opens his mouth.
“Con—lee,” he draws out my name in greeting.
“Key, please.” I hold out my palm only for him to lock his fingers with mine and push me back in the direction of the bar. His white tee stretches across his chest and I have to look away from his brute like muscles as they flex with the movement. I’ve known the man for a few years and still, he makes me flush at times.
“Shit,” he hisses, continuing to walk me backwards, forcing me to bump into strangers like an asshole.
“Yeah, you’re in deep shit. You’ve made my list. I’ve been trying to message you.”
He only looks at me with his steely grey eyes, giving me an apologetic smile.
“I need a key to get in.”
“My phone died.” He grins producing it from his pocket with his other hand instead of the key I desperately want.
I snatch my hand away. “I don’t want your phone. Just a key to get in the apartment.”
Some other overplayed 80’s song starts up and Holden attempts to dance with me, spilling my drink on my shirt. Typical Holden.
“Stop it!” I try to yell at him over the loud music.
“Come on.” He takes my drink from me and downs it.
Jerkface. Gah, he infuriates me.
“I was drinking that.” I nearly stomp at him.
He smirks his signature smirk that gets him his way with all the ladies, but not with me. I don’t fall under his spell. He slowly drags his tongue across his bottom lip to capture the last of my drink. “What kind of friend would I be if I let my best friend’s girl drink and drive.”
I glare at him. “It’s like two blocks.”
“Dance with me, and I’ll buy you another.” He tries to pull me closer. He’s impossible. His thick arm cages around my waist, pulling me into his body. The heat of his body nearly ignites my clothing as he grinds against me.
My attempts to push him away with my palms on his chest go unaffected.
“You remember the first time I danced with you…I told you I wanted to kiss you.” His eyes zero in on my lips.
He wouldn’t dare.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, needing his attention away from my mouth.
“I’ll dance with you.” The floozie from bathroom hallway rubs her hands down his thick arms. Her red nails are chipped and her eyeliner is about an inch thick under her eyes as she peers at me with distaste over his shoulder.
Really Holden. I mentally shake my head. He could do better, but then again, I am sure he’s done worse.
He releases me, as my disgusted expression whips across his face. “See, you have a willing partner.” I try again to get what I came for. “I really need to get home and get dinner started.”
He tugs on a strand of my dark hair. “It’s ladies’ night, Con. Live a little. Big E won’t be home anytime soon. He’s probably fucking that tight ass bitch from his office. What’s her name…June.”
“Judy,” I correct him, hating that his words sting me. Judy is Ezra’s assistant and she’s gorgeous and sophisticated. She fits in perfectly in the corporate world, unlike me with my holey jeans and oversized hoodies. “Fuck you, Holden.”
“I’m game. You might as well have a good time. I’ll even stop drinking and drive you home myself. Cut loose. Get the stick outta your ass.” He smirks, and I shake my head, suppressing the urge to laugh.
Like I’d get in his death on wheels’ mobile.
“I’m going to cut something alright.” I’m about to snap on him.
He’s probably right about Ezra, getting in late. He is always entertaining a new client or working late on a project with Judy, but I trust Ezra. Even around a woman like Judy, but I was looking forward to a bath and my book. I’ve been reading the Game of Thrones books after I got hooked on the TV adaptation.
“You wound me.” He smiles and moves side to side, clutching his chest.
“I’ll just take the key, but thanks for the invitation. I don’t think your friend will like my stealing your attention.” My nose crinkles on the word friend.
“Pfftt.” He rolls his eyes. “Cheryl don’t care, do you?” He nods in her direction as she still grips his arms.
I begin to say of course not, but stop myself. Ezra says I’m too hard on Holden. I don’t know why I let his antics get to me, but he seems to get under my skin. It’s as if he enjoys pushing my buttons.
“I don’t mind.” She smiles anything but friendly at me. She minds a lot, and I don’t care enough to be bothered. She’s another notch on his bedpost, I’m sure. I’ve never known him to have repeats, maybe one or two. But never a real girlfriend.
That along with him having a fling with Bailey is why I started dating Ezra. He’s safe. He won’t hurt me and use me like a guy like Holden would.
Holden begins to move his hips more, thrusting his ass backwards at his friend. It’s almost easy to get swept away by his charm. He has an easiness about him that draws you near, until you get to know him. I know him though and the games he likes to play. So, I shake my head with a frown.
“Stop, I really need to get home.”
Holden pouts like a child.
“I have to see my advisor tomorrow. Early.” I don’t know why I’m explaining or making excuses. This is ridiculous.
“Fine, but you owe me a beer and a dance.”
I raise my brows at him, and he winks as he tucks his own key in my hand. It’s dangling from a bottle opener keyring with a picture of a pinup model on it. He’s such a pig.
Curling my fingers around the keyring, I shake my head and go home to wait for my boyfriend. Tomorrow, I’ll make my own damn key. Ezra should have gotten me one made. I shouldn’t be depending on Holden for a damn thing.
Ezra is my boyfriend, it’s his place to take care of me to an extent. He tries, I mean he did attempt to solve the problem of us not getting enough time together. Tired of hearing me complain about canceled plans, Ezra took the plunge and asked me to move in with him. I was sure we were headed for a break or a break up.
I was taken off guard when he asked, but we were at a crossroad in our relationship—take it to the next level or walk away. I was sure I was prepared to walk away until he got down on one knee and proposed that I live with him.
It seemed romantic at the time and it was, until I found out his best friend, Holden would also be living with us. I thought he meant we’d get an apartment of our own, but he only meant I would move in at Holden’s with him. Ezra and Holden have been roommates since his freshmen year of college.
I don’t know why I got my hopes up, but at least we’ve taken the next step in our relationship. I haven’t told my mom and Ronald that I moved off campus yet. They aren’t in favor of my relationship with Ezra getting serious too fast. It’s not that they don’t like him, but they think I’m too young to be dating seriously. They want me to focus on my degree.
Something else I haven’t told them…I’m not going to pursue teaching anymore, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be a writer. I’m not likely to tell them a damn thing though after the shit with my mother. After this semester, I’m not sure if I’ll return for the next. I have so many ideas and no time to write the stories playing out inside my head.
Going through the motions, I prepare dinner in hopes that Ezra will be hungry when he gets in and appreciate my effort. I never get to cook for him. Living at the dorms, I only had a hot plate and a microwave. There was only so much I could do with the two.
I take a sip of wine, not wanting to tell Ezra I was fired today.
Three hours later, my dinner is cold and untouched. I keep watching out the window for headlights or listening for footsteps…anything to alert me to Ezra’s arrival.
The apartment is spacious, it’s the upstairs of an old store. Holden uses the downstairs for his business. My only complaint would be that there is only one bathroom.
It’s definitely outfitted to be a bachelor pad with a black leather sofa and matching recliner serving as the only seating in the living room. A 60-inch television serves as the focal point of the room. Any gaming console you can think of is housed underneath on an entertainment stand, along with several books full of blue-ray movie discs.
Finally, I hear someone coming up the stairs.