Fear of Falling(16)

I didn’t do drama. Not anymore at least. I had learned to let go of the bullshit and free myself of all emotional baggage a long time ago. So I surely didn’t need her showing up inquiring about a job. And I damn sure didn’t need to be working side by side with her, making the temptation to delve deeper behind those haunting green eyes, to reveal those hidden pains that much stronger…

“Dude, what the fuck? Did you even hear a word I just said? I swear, B, you’ll scrub a fuckin’ hole in the wood if you keep that up.”

My eyes snapped to my cousin, CJ, then down to the area on the bar that I had been mindlessly—yet forcefully—wiping down with a rag. “Uh, my bad,” I stammered, my glazed eyes blinking out of their trance.

CJ shook his head while unraveling his tie. He had rushed here from his day job as a contractor in hopes of seeing Dive’s newest addition. Unfortunately for him, I had sent Kami home an hour ago, when I honestly couldn’t think of another detail to exhaust. I had introduced her to the day staff, shown her the bathrooms, locker rooms, and she had mastered all the signature drinks. There was honestly no other excuse to keep her other than wanting her near me. Even after she had gone all cold and distant, I couldn’t deny my attraction to her. And I could tell that she felt it too. Shit, anyone in a 10-mile radius could feel the sexual tension rolling off of us in heated waves.

“Like I was saying,” CJ started, rolling his eyes at my lack of enthusiasm at whatever idiotic thought had popped into his shallow mind. “Wendy asked about you. You remember, Wendy from high school? With the big titties? Dude, I swear, I would motor boat the shit out of those double-Ds.”

I narrowed my eyes at the Neanderthal known as my cousin, Craig Jacobs. I should have been used to him, being that we had lived together since the 9th grade when I was sent to live with him and my Uncle Mick. Craig and I had become more like brothers, and I was immune to his idiocy. Yet some of the asinine shit that left his mouth still surprised me. If we weren’t related, I would bet money that he was a product of one of those stories you hear about where the teenage, coked-out mom gives birth in the toilet. Something was wrong with him, yet he was the only one who couldn’t see it.

No matter how I felt about CJ and his rude and crude ways, I knew he was a good guy. And he was family. He and Uncle Mick were the only ones there for me when shit had hit the fan, resulting in my return to Charlotte a year ago. I could have gone anywhere else, but I needed to be with the people that knew me…that understood me. And though they were both rough around the edges, they were there for me in my darkest hours. I owed them.

CJ took a long swig of his beer before launching into stories of his latest conquests. As disgusting as he was, he somehow pulled his fair share of women. It was pretty damn surprising. Either they had to have extremely low self-esteem, the IQ of a fruit fly or they had to be deaf and blind. I needed to tell myself that to maintain just an inkling of faith in the opposite sex.

“So I pull up to one of my job sites at some strip mall and there she is, Wendy Tig-o-Bitties Braxton, looking as hot as ever. And I swear her tits got even bigger! Of course, I wanted to hit that, but before I could even grace her with the famous Jacobs charm, she was asking about you.” He downed the remains of his beer and shook his head. “I swear, this whole broken-hearted-puppy-dog shit gets you more pussy than ever. Pisses me off.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his analogy, as I filled an order for a nearby customer. The regulars had grown used to CJ and his mouth. And if they hadn’t, they soon would. He was a permanent fixture at Dive and even filled in on occasion, though he sucked at making drinks.

“Don’t blame me, CJ. Blame these clueless chicks you keep running behind. I don’t ask for their sympathy or their charity.”

“Yeah, but you sure don’t hesitate to take it,” he snorted, just as I placed an ice-cold beer in front of him. “Admit it, the whole Lonely Boy shit is all an act to get easy ass. It is, isn’t it?”

“Lonely Boy?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” CJ replied, embarrassed. “The girl I’ve been banging has some obsession with Gossip Girl. She makes me watch that shit with her to get her in the mood. Fucking irritating at first but it’s a pretty cool show. The chicks are hot as hell, and Chuck Bass is one cool motherfucker. I might start wearing bowties.”

I couldn’t do more than shake my head. Yeah, Craig was family but he had about as much sense as a houseplant.

“The things we do to get laid.”

“The power of the pussy,” he nodded in agreement. I couldn’t argue with him there.